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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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Always Mine-John Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @tommyshhelby)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Can you please do a imagine where y/n and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry esme and even though tommy does feel bad he does it anyway.Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on y/n and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous not sure if it’s a John or Micheal imagine your choice’

Characters: John Shelby x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader (platonic), Michael Gray x Reader (platonic), Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Heartbreak, swearing, mentions/intentions of sex, arguing, violence, slight fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Heartbreak, many people went through it, many people wanted to avoid it. Although your heart wasn’t physically damaged, it felt like it was. Humans often forget how strong their emotions are. Emotions are part of our survival, they determine how we live, it controls our day, what decisions we make. Unfortunately to live, we had to experience sadness. You could turn it around and say that the bad times made the good times stronger, more enjoyable. But it’s hard to think positively when you’re stuck in a terrible situation.

“He....He’s getting married?” I whispered out, clutching onto my dressing gown as the cold air blew into the house.

Tommy was stood outside, I had invited him inside, but I was glad I hadn’t now.“Today/ I’m sorry (Y/N), it has to be done.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“John doesn’t know. And you can’t tell him.”

“Why are you telling me this? I could easily run to him now and tell him.”

“If you do that, you’ll put us all in danger.”

I was growing more angry by the second.“Aren’t you always in danger?”

“This is different. It will benefit the whole family, the Peaky Blinders. He has to do this (Y/N).”

I shook my head at him, crossing my arms over my chest. What with it being so early in the morning, no one else was out in the street, it was slightly dark, with a low fog roaming the streets.“You know I love him. You know how we feel about each other. I’m just confused. Why would you tell me this before they get married? I could go tell him, we could run away together like we said we would since we were fifteen.”

“Because I love you (Y/N). You’re basically family. It felt wrong not to. But I can’t lose you at work either. You need to stay.”

I scoffed.“I can’t believe this! You really think I’m going to stay and see the man I love everyday with a wedding ring on his finger? I can write up my resignation now if you want-”

“(Y/N)-”

“Honestly Tommy, this is taking the piss. You get away with a lot of shit, but this is just fantastic-”

“(Y/N)!”

“Wait here, I’ll get a pen and some paper-”

“(Y/N) would you just listen for a second!?” he yelled, silencing me.“You would be as equally angry with me if I told you after. Just be happy that I mentioned it at all.”

That had been the longest day of my life. Knowing that my worst fear had come true, the man I loved was marrying someone else, made time move at an incredibly slow pace. Part of me pondered crashing the wedding, if I knew where it was or who he was marrying, but I knew that Tommy was partly right. He had a huge responsibility to keep control of his power, but the way he manipulated his family infuriated me.

“John, are you sure you want to marry me?” I said to him as we laid down in a field.

“You’re really asking that after what we just did?” he asked, doing up his trousers.

“Well, Susanne and Jack do the same as us, and he hasn’t asked her.” my (not so) innocent seventeen year old self pointed out.

“Believe me, I would not be suggesting that sort of thing if I didn’t mean it.”

“So you don’t ask every girl you fuck to marry you?” I teased.

He leaned over me.“I haven’t slept with that many.”

I rolled my eyes.“I don’t care how many girls you fucked before me. As long as I’m the one who gets this sort of treatment for the rest of your life, I’m happy.”

He smirked, kissing me.“You’ve been the best out of all of them.”

“Because I do anything you want.”

He leaned down to my ear, whispering,“Because you feel fucking amazing.”

I blushed, wishing I was able to tease him more.“I’m serious John, that’s a serious commitment.”

Although we were being flirty, I knew when he was being truthful.“(Y/N), I don’t want anything else. I want you beside me. My family loves you, you’re already a Shelby in their eyes, and mine. I know they say we’re young, but these feelings I have for you re strong. I wake up thinking about you, I see other women and think, my (Y/N) is so much prettier than you. And yes, thinking about you writhing and moaning beneath me is pleasurable,” I playfully punched his shoulder, which he laughed at,“but imagining you at home with the kids, waiting for me to come back and embracing me as soon as I step foot in our house, that’s all I could ever ask for in life.”

I sobbed as I thought about that memory. We were so happy back then. We were carefree, easily daydreaming about what could have been. Then harsh reality hit us in the face. He was being forced into an arrangement with some wild gypsy girl. We were supposed to be married, I was the one whose last name should have been Shelby.

I didn’t want to hear about the wedding day. I knew that Pol, Ada or any other woman in that betting shop wouldn’t mention it in front of me.Though how was I ever to stop thinking about how the man I loved was married to someone else when I worked with him? And his new wife? Esme also had no say in this, she had been unruly and apparently the only way to sort that was to marry her off. But why did she have to work here too? She hated it here, she could never sit still. It was in her nature to be outside all the time, to run free and wildly along with the horses. Not cramped up in a betting shop counting money, surrounded by the lowest of men. Having to sit across from her as I worked was torture, seeing the wedding band made my stomach turn.

"(Y/N)?" John called me, standing in the doorway of his office.

I caught Esme glancing towards me, though I didn't care. It wasn't as if anything was about to happen, John hadn't even spoken to me since they married, not properly anyway. I had been civil towards his wife, but only speaking to her when I absolutely had to. Quietly sighing, I closed the book I had been writing in, picking up a smaller notebook and pen before entering his office. Some workers were peeking at us, they knew the drama, and it didn't help that his office was basically made of windows, meaning everyone could see us.

"You can sit down, you know you can." John gestured to the chair across from his desk, though he didn't sit.

I said nothing back.He groaned.

"Come on (Y/N), you know I hated when you gave me the silent treatment."

"Is there something you needed from me Mr Shelby?"

"You know, that only sounded nice coming from you when we were in a different environment." he smirked, thinking I would break. He was absolutely wrong.

"I have a lot of work to be getting on with-"

"I don't love her."

My eyes widened, and I kept my voice low."For fucks sake John, we shouldn't be talking about this here."

"You know I don't!" he stood in front of me, but I quickly backed away, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves."She's some random gypsy Tommy picked up on the side of the road. Esme isn't you."

"And yet you're stuck with her. So let bygones be bygones. Did you actually need me?"

"I always need you, and I will always want you."

"Right, thank you for wasting my time sir."

I promptly left, feeling my throat get tight as I pushed back my tears. If I spoke another word, my voice would crack, giving away how I truly felt. Instead of returning to where I was originally sat, I headed to the kitchen, not wanting to see Esme. It was obvious her gaze was on me as I brushed past, though I took no notice. Once there, I made myself busy filling the kettle with water and beginning to make tea, just to distract myself. As it boiled, I gripped onto the edge of the counter, painfully holding back my sobs. I couldn’t do this for the rest of my life, it was emotionally exhausting, it was torturous.

“You can’t keep up this act forever.” Polly appeared.

I didn’t bother facing her.“I know. I already told Tom I would hand him my resignation letter, he refused.”

“No, we can’t lose you, even if we had enough staff. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that. You know what Tommy is like with his ‘big ideas’.”

I finally looked at her.“My worst fear came true. He’s with someone else. He’s married, but not to me. It’s been in our heads for so long, it was all too good to be true.”

Before Polly could speak, I saw her glance behind me. Turning around, I saw Esme standing in the doorway, her usual scowl on her face as she grabbed a mug from a cupboard.

“I’m assuming you brewed a full pot?” she asked.

“Yes.” I replied.

She put her mug beside mine, making sure it thudded against the counter. When she left, I ran my hands down my face, seriously considering walking out. Polly decided to not add anything. We would just go in circles, trying to cheer me up, reassure me, convince me to stay etc.

Managing to get through the rest of the day, I sighed in relief and tiredness as everyone started to pack their things. Putting on my coat, I smiled at one my colleagues who was approaching me.

“John has asked for you.” they warily said.

I rolled my eyes.“Did he say what he wants?”

He shook his head.“Sorry, wants you in there soon as.”

I thanked him as he left, along with everyone else. Esme held back, obviously glaring at me. She disappeared into John’s office for less than a minute before walking out again, leaving without her husband. I watched the door shut, leaving just John and I. My stomach twisted, heart beating incredibly loudly in my ears as I took my first few steps to his office. I stood in the doorway, hating that he was already looking at me, I was incredibly nervous.

He stood from his chair.“(Y/N)-”

“Please tell me this is about work.”

“I need to speak to you.”

“John, I can’t do this. We’re finished now-”

I started to walk away, not surprised when he followed, but shocked when he grabbed me, turning me around to face him.

“I know you feel the same as me. I can’t fucking stand it! I don’t want to be married to her. I don’t want to fuck her in our bed. I’ve only ever imagined coming home to see you there, not her!”

“Well that won’t happen now, will it?!” I snapped back, trying to make him let go of my arms.

As I struggled, John was able to keep a grasp on me.“It can! We’ll figure out a way! But I need to kiss you. I need to be able to hold you in my arms, to really feel you. I want to keep planning our future together.”

“Tommy has made his decision, and with this family, anything he says goes! You really think we could change any of this? Even if we did, imagine the trouble you would all be in.”

“I don’t care. I would take ten bullets to the chest if it meant being with you.”

“You can’t be saying things like that.”

His eyes were crazy, staring into my soul, fingers pressing into my skin. I felt him pull me closer, it was ever so slow, and I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. We cautiously leaned in for a kiss, making memories and feelings flood back. His hands relaxed, moving up to cup my face. The passion didn’t last long, because before I knew it, I was being pushed back against a desk, clumsily lying on my back. John wasted no time to touch my breasts, continuing to kiss me as it slid down my body, disappearing up my skirt. Although it was extremely tempting to carry on, the weighing guilt made me stop him.

“John.” I breathed out, giving him the wrong idea as he kept going, sucking on my neck. I pushed against him.“John, stop.”

He pulled away.“What? What’s wrong?” he went straight back down to my neck, trying to unbutton my blouse.

“Stop!” I said a little louder, managing to sit up and push him away.

“(Y/N), I know it’s been a while but-”

“It’s not that, you idiot! You’re married!”

“To a woman I don’t love!”

I let out a frustrated scream, buttoning up my blouse again as I stood.“I’m not going to be that woman sleeping with married men, I’m not a whore!”

“Why are you denying your feelings? We were supposed to get married.”

“We were kids back then.”

He pointed an accusing finger at me.“I said that to you every year, we were always waiting for the right time!”

“Life doesn’t always work out John!” I yelled.“This is just as agonising to me as it is to you! But if we ruin this, the Lee’s are going to come for you all, and there’s already enough on your plates to deal with them.”

“I don’t give a fuck about them-”

“But I give a fuck about you living!” I snatched up my coat and handbag, pushing past him towards the door. With my hand on the handle, I calmed down before speaking again.“Obviously we weren’t meant to be. Though at least we didn’t take our time together for granted. Don’t try any of that again John, I mean it.”

For the next week, I didn’t utter a word to John, I didn’t even glance in his direction. I considered sending in my resignation. But after thinking about it, I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do it. These people were my family, I grew up in this business. If I left, I had a slim chance of finding a normal job, because everyone knew who I was associated with. Why would anyone risk taking on someone who was involved with the Peaky Blinders? I was paid more than I should have been for my position, and they trusted me with anything; it would be stupid of me to throw that away and lose everything I worked so hard for.

Surprisingly, Esme hadn’t piped up towards me in that time. I thought she might say something, even if she wasn’t triggered, due to her fiery personality. However, John had been relentless with his attempts to make me speak to him, even trying to trap me in the vault with him. I couldn’t break, I couldn’t let him get to me again. As much as my heart ached for him, as much as I wanted him to grab my face and kiss me again, I would never break a marriage. The guilt that would live with me fr the rest of my life was too much to bear.

At the beginning of another day, I had just breezed into the shop when Lizzie approached me.“(Y/N), Tommy wants to see you.”

I sighed.“Did he say why?”

She shook her head.“You know what he’s like. But he’s asking for you now.”

I didn’t bother taking off my coat or setting my bag down, following Lizzie to his office. She knocked before opening the door, letting me walk in before closing it behind me, and I was left with Tommy, who was hunched over his desk as he looked through papers; however, there was also another man, a younger man.

“Come in (Y/N), let me introduce you to someone.” Tommy stood, setting the papers aside.

My steps were slower than they usually would be as I analysed the stranger. He looked younger than me, but not by that many years. His hat was in his hands, and although he wore a suit, it wasn’t like the ones the Shelby boys wore. His hair was slightly curly, not slicked back or short like most men around Small Heath, and he seemed shy, maybe more reclusive.

“I’m Michael.” he offered his hand out which I shook.

“I’m (Y/N).” I politely smiled.

“(Y/N) is basically family and has worked with us from the beginning.” Tommy explained.“This boy here, (Y/N), is Polly’s son.”

My eyes widened at Tommy as I let go of Michael’s hand.“Wait, you mean...the children she was always talking about...?”

“I’ve come back to find out about my real family. And to start working here too.” Michael added.

“So I need you to keep a close eye on him, help him with whatever he needs. (Y/N) knows the ins and outs of this place, she’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

For the rest of the day, Michael shadowed one of the workers that dealt with the winnings, counting money and figuring out how to run the shop floor. I would occasionally pop up when I thought he needed someone kinder and quiet to help, or just to check on him. He was sweet, but that wouldn’t help him in this environment. Luckily, Michael made it hard for John to bother me, he didn’t have the usual opportunities to bombard me with questions about why I didn’t want to fight for what we had. My shift finished quickly, it seemed like I had only been there an hour and we were already leaving.

“Come on Michael, let me take you for a drink. You deserve it after today.” I offered as we walked out of the shop.

He was hesitant before smiling.“Alright then. Where should we go?”

“We’ll go to the Garrison, your cousins are basically royalty there, meaning we are too. And don’t worry about your mum, she would rather you be with me than with the boys.”

Happily greeting Harry as we walked into the pub, he nudged the other bartender to get my usual drink. After asking Michael what he wanted, I called it out to Harry before disappearing into the private room.

“We’re allowed in here?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Like Tommy said, I’m family.” the window opened, a bartender passing us our drinks.“So, how did you end up in a place like this?”

We indulged in a conversation about Michael’s life growing up. It wasn’t a good upbringing, he had been through a lot of hardships as a child, and now being thrown into a completely different life was only adding to the confusion he had growing up, but he wanted to be independent. Get away from the boring country and work in an interesting job.

Michael glanced down at his drink, seeming hesitant to speak.“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there something between you and John? I thought he was married to Esme.”

I scoffed.“He is. Seems to keep forgetting that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-”

“It’s fine. You’re family, you should know what’s going on. We...wow, I’ve never actually spoken about this. John and I developed feelings for each other as we grew up, we became a couple. We always said we would get married, anyone could see we were deeply in love. However, Tommy arranged a marriage between John and Esme, it was to form a truce between the Shelby’s and the Lee family, Esme’s family.”

“That’s horrible. Tommy still did that even though he knew you two were together?”

“Yep.” I downed the rest of my drink.“Welcome to the family business.”

“I understand the need for a truce but...”

“I know what you’re thinking. Although it was heartbreaking, I know nothing can be done about it. And I am not a home wrecker!”

He was shocked by my snappy tone.“I-I didn’t say you were.”

“I know, force of habit.”

The door opened, the Shelby brothers walking in, and only three of them smiled at us, it was obvious who didn’t. They greeted us as they sat, the window opening instantly with their drinks on the tray. Michael and I were still tense from our talk, though tried not to show it as Arthur began rambling on about something stupid Finn had done that day. I tried my hardest to listen, though it was hard to when I could feel John’s eyes on me, and he was angry. Everyone else could tell as well, but they didn’t want to deal with John’s attitude right now. After Arthur finished his story, I excused myself to the ladies room, needing to relax. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even go to the loo without any disruption.

“Why the fuck are you here with him?” John demanded to know as he followed me in.

“John! You can’t be in here!” I snapped.

“There’s no other women here yet! Answer me.”

“He’s a new colleague, someone Tommy told me to look after today. Not to mention he’s your cousin. I was being nice to him.”

“You say you still love me yet here you are with another man.” the rage in his eyes was growing more intense by the second.

“Oh for fucks sake John.” I rolled my eyes.“Why on Earth why I be so stupid to move on with another Shelby?”

“The fuck are you saying?”

“I’ve been battling with myself whether to leave this job because of you! It was terrible enough to be in the same room as you and your wife, but trying to avoid you all day is exhausting. You have to stop trying to make us work.”

His breathing was getting faster, and he hastily grabbed my hands.“But why can’t we just hide it? Maybe after a while I’ll be able to divorce her.”

“I can’t sit around and wait for you! I’ll always love you John, but you can’t expect me to not go on living my life whilst I wait for something that may never happen. And you’re telling me that in that time, you won’t have sex with her, you won’t give her the children she wants? Because I’m not fucking you behind her back.”

He groaned, pulling away from me and turning around, suddenly hitting a stall door, causing me to flinch at the movement and sound. Instinctively, I started backing away, scared that he might flip and accidentally hurt me in his rage.

“It’s not fucking fair!” he yelled.

“John, calm down!” I said, trying not to shout back, needing him to be calm.

“Why was I the one that had to get married?! Why wasn’t it Arthur or even Finn? They know we’re in love! I wanted you to be my fucking wife! And now you’re not even fighting for us!”

I scowled at him, screaming just as loud at him now.“How dare you?! John, there is nothing to fight for anymore! Yes, we still love each other, and I would give anything to be with you again! I would kill for you, you know that. But we need to move on from this. I’m staying at work for now, just until I’ve got enough to move somewhere else, and then I’m gone. I’m not staying where I got my heart broken.”

“You can’t leave.”

“I will. This feels like someone is punishing me for something terrible that I’ve done, but for the life of me I can not think what that could be. I’m done with this John. I don’t want to wake up every morning dreading to go to the shop, being distracted from my work because I’m dreading that you’ll corner me and we’ll get caught doing something we shouldn’t be. I feel like I’ve aged since the day you married, just from the stress.”

“(Y/N), please, just give it more time, we can work something out-”

“No! John just shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying! Leave me alone, leave what we had in the past. You’re married now, and I don’t want to have an affair, not just because of the Lee’s but because of the moral of it all. I...I just need to go home.”

“You’re not leaving-”

He grabbed my arm forcefully, and in defence I slapped him around the face. He recoiled his hand as he went into shock, giving me a chance to escape. However, he kept calling my name as I rushed off, seeing the boys standing at the bar, obviously having heard everything. I pushed past them, bursting into the private room to grab my things before leaving the pub. The others were also telling me to come back, wondering what was wrong.

“Don’t follow me! Leave me alone!” I screeched before turning away from them.

I felt light headed as I stormed home. There was so much to take in, too much had been said in such a short amount of time. Though I knew I had spoken my truth, even if it was the hardest thing I had ever admitted. John and I couldn’t be. Perhaps it was never meant to happen, and we needed to grow up, move on from our childhood dreams of us being together. I couldn’t dwell on it, I was right when I said I couldn’t put my life on pause to wait for him, which I knew would never happen. Until I knew what I could do to move on and away from everyone, I hoped that our argument had sent a message to John, and I wouldn’t have to suffer as much as I had been. Not for much longer, I am going to be happy.

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craomy · 4 years ago

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Genshin Impact: Albedo x Reader (Fluff/Agnst)

Genshin Impact: Albedo x Reader (Agnst)

AN: This is just a little bit of a story idea of what I can imagine for Albedo and with the traveler. This is one of my first times doing something like this and I hope that you’ll enjoy it :)

-=+=-

“Cecilia. A beautiful flower with a name that suits its appearance. It only grows where harsh winds blow, and is just as intangible as the true heart of an unbound soul.” Albedo had held a seedling towards the traveler, (Y/N). She stared carefully in bewilderment as the young alchemist had clenched his fist. A soft glowing light had radiated from his grasp as he slowly opened his hand, revealing an elegant flower that had blossomed from his chalk. The traveler watched in awe when looking at Albedo’s little performance.

(Y/N) was the one to encourage Albedo to take up alchemy from his Master. She’s glad that she was able to give Albedo a push into the direction that his Master would have wanted him to go. Now that he’s been studying and grasping a better understanding of The Art of Khemia, (Y/N) would be the one to listen in on Albedo’s rambles of new concepts of things that would be hard to understand for any ordinary person. Albedo had genuinely enjoyed her company, but he could also feel something else in his chest.

It was a warm feeling. Something that would give him enough energy to stay up countless nights just spending time with the young girl. He couldn’t quite put it into words of what this feeling meant, but Albedo knew that he must hold onto it as long as he can.

Albedo looked back up into (Y/N)’s (E/C) eyes and couldn’t help but appreciate how they glistened underneath the moonlight. Without thinking, Albedo had tucked the Cecilia behind the girl’s ear. “It’s so... heavenly,” The ashy light blonde haired boy had whispered under his breath, too captivated to realize he was staring too long. (Y/N) blushed, hoping that her ears had heard correctly. Seeing her blush had made him grow red, retracting his hand that once traced her cheek, “I-I meant the flower. C-Cecilia’s can also mean heavenly!” the boy had flushed timidly.

He doesn’t usually get embarrassed, but lately, he’s been acting differently towards his beloved friend. (Y/N) had let out her laughter. Seeing his reaction towards her had made her realize how blessed she was to be able to meet such an extraordinary person. Albedo hid behind his sketchbook to hide his face from the (H/C) haired girl to prevent himself from feeling any more embarrassed. After all, they both were just two young kids that could see what others couldn’t see.

(Y/N) had lowered Albedo’s sketchbook to meet his bright teal eyes. He timidly stared back at his friend, his words stuck in his throat with his heart hammering against his chest. She closed the distance between both of them and had placed a soft kiss against Albedo’s forehead.

“Whatever you say, my Chalk Prince.” she caught him off guard with a peck on the head. It took a few seconds for Albedo to register what she had done. As a sign of requited feelings towards each other, he had dropped his sketch onto the soft grass of Starsnatch Cliff. He entwined one hand with (Y/N)’s while the other had been placed behind (Y/N)’s head. Both of them smiled beneath the starry night sky of Mondstadt.

“(Y/N). I don’t understand what you’re doing to me. I lack the knowledge to fully express my feelings towards you. Out of all of the people I’ve ever met, you’ve been the only one that could pique my interest... I don’t ever want to lose you.” Albedo had confessed as he closely watched (Y/N)’s beautiful features. She had let go of his hands and grinned, wrapping her arms around the studious boy. She was delighted. So excited that she had pushed Albedo against the soft grass of the cliffs.

This enchanting atmosphere was enough for Albedo. This is all he could ever ask for. (Y/N) was the perfect person to help him pursue his future career and dreams.

(Y/N)’s laughter filled Albedo’s ears as he put a hand on her back to push her closer to his chest. Holding her against his heartbeat was a brave move, even for him to do. Choosing Starsnatch Cliff as a drawing location was the best option for both of them to enjoy each other’s company.

Young love beneath the captivating moon. There was nothing more to it than two soulmates basking in each other’s presence. Two crystal butterflies fluttered over the both of them, perhaps a symbol of the both of them.

Right now the only thing Albedo could think of was her.

(Y/N).

He studied her (E/C) eyes, so allured, so caught up in the moment. Laying on the patch of grass, he readjusted the Cecilia flower in her hair. She was perfect.

“(Y/N). I want to let you know that I...” he paused.

Albedo noticed twinkling stars that glittered in the sky. Comets and shootings stars had flown over their heads. (Y/N) looked up from Albedo and watched in awe. It wasn’t often that you would see such a sight.

“We should make a wish together.” Albedo had seen how she watched in wonder. That’s right. You two came out here to make a wish.

The traveler had grinned, laying her head back down against the young man’s chest. “If that’s the case then I wish for you to accept the position of Chief Alchemist!” she had said so proudly. He softly chuckled, “You don’t have to use your wish on me for me to do that. I want you to be happy with your wish, (Y/N).” he murmured.

“But it’s true. I think that wish alone will make me happy enough.” (Y/N) spoke confidently. The ash blonde alchemist felt it again. He felt his heart beating faster again. How was it that she could only think about his well being?

“What about you, Albedo? What do you wish for?” she asked with curiosity.

Albedo blinked.

He didn’t know if he had the courage to say it out loud. He gulped, feeling her gaze to be too much for him to handle. “If you’re wishing for me, then I suppose that I have no other option but to also wish for your happiness.” He shyly muttered.

(Y/N) couldn’t stop smiling.

She wished that this moment could last forever.

With that, both of them had embraced each other in this pure moment.

Albedo reached up in the air once again while holding the (H/C) haired girl in his arms. “The universe is the dark essence of the true starry sky, and the earth is the accumulated memories of time and lives. You’ve helped me come along this journey of mine to realize that I shouldn’t keep my distance from everyone anymore,” he spoke.

“You carry the aura of the stars. More beautiful than any other view there is, the liveliest flower in Teyvat, and the greatest thing birthed from chalk. Your serenity is quite enchanting and your laughter is music to my ears, I wouldn’t know what to do if I couldn’t hear it every day. Nothing can compare to you in the universe.” Albedo confessed with sincerity that tugged his heart.

(Y/N) couldn’t have fallen in love with anyone else in the world. Albedo’s charm is what lured the young girl in the most. His search for knowledge and interest in his research is unparalleled to any other.

He sat up, holding dearly onto (Y/N)’s smaller hands.

“In other words, this is my declaration of... love. It’s all so foreign to me so I’d appreciate it if you’re patient with me.” He bashfully told the girl how he felt. (Y/N) smirked, “If that’s how you truly feel, then I’d like you to tell me the special eight letters, three words.” she teased, seeing Albedo’s blush intensify.

Albedo slowly closed the distance between the girl.

“Then if that’s the case...”

“I...”

“I love you.”

Is what Albedo would have said.

Eyes fluttering open, he began to panic in the middle of his bed. Losing the warmth and presence of (Y/N), he came to the realization that...

(Y/N) was no longer there.

Reminiscing in his dreams would brighten his memories of his lover.

That’s right.

He still can’t stop lingering from the past.

Albedo sat up from his bed, the dream feeling too surreal for him to comprehend. (Y/N)’s melodic laughter couldn’t be heard anymore. The vivid dreams he’s been having of the young (H/C) haired girl has been too much for him to handle.

“I have to go back to conducting my research. It’s what (Y/N) would have wanted.” Albedo had to remind himself out loud. If he doesn’t then he would continue to coop himself up in his bed trying to recollect the memories of (Y/N)’s lovely scent.

He slowly got up from his bed and sluggishly walked towards his desk. On his way to his chair, he knocked down a pile of sketchbooks across the floor. Not bothering to pick it up, he began to focus on the sheet of paper in front of him.

“Yes. I have to continue writing this report.” He muttered, all slumped over as he grabbed his pen. The Cecilia flowers on his desk had withered long before he could realize it on his own. Time had seemed to fly past due to his grieving.

At first, it was very... difficult.

(Y/N) never seemed like the type of person to get sick very often. She was always brave and outgoing in the lands of Mondstadt. With her adventurous ambitions, you would think that she had no weaknesses. Of course, that’s what she would show to the others on the outside. Nobody else could know about her illness. The only one she could tell of her little secret was no one other than the Chief Alchemist, her beloved.

Yet, this was the beginning of a burden. Although Albedo enjoyed discovering the truth of the world and jumping into the unknown of unknowns, this was certainly a predicament that stuck a thorn in his thumb. Albedo was able to research and identify nearly any conflict within his path as an alchemist while utilizing his knowledge of what he knew from his Master. There was no way that he wouldn’t be able to find out a cure for her illness, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Albedo snapped out of his thoughts.

Coming back to his senses, it appears that he had unconsciously drawn... her.

Again.

A perfectly sketched portrait of (Y/N). It looked like an exact replica of what (Y/N) had once looked like. Yet again, Albedo knew that nothing else would compare to her beauty. He winced, finding it difficult to rip up the paper that had depicted (Y/N)’s soft features that used to grin back at him. Frustrated, he threw everything off of his desk. All of his testing tubes and glass graduated cylinders had shattered against the cold floor.

Nothing.

None of the drawings he had could compare to her.

No matter how hard he tried to perfectly sketch her entirety, it just wasn’t enough. Albedo couldn’t find any other way to let go of his (Y/N). How else can he get rid of these aching feelings in his chest? Wasn’t he supposed to be the most talented alchemist and a natural-born genius? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to always find a way to get her out of her troubles? Just why in the world did the Archons curse him to lose one of the things that could bring him hope?

Albedo slammed his fist against one of the portraits, accidentally tearing the paper itself. His tantrum stopped as he took a look at what he had done.

There it was.

(Y/N)’s flower had been scratched out of the painting. The beautiful Cecilia flower that Albedo had once placed behind her ear while he cherished her dearly.

He dropped to his knees in defeat.

“Why..? Why did you have to leave me, (Y/N)?” He whispered in distraught. He could feel a lump in his throat as he clenched his fists, “No... I shouldn’t be blaming you for your passing. It is all but my fault for being incompetent.” his voice was saddening. This bitter taste of love was all he had left of (Y/N).

He could no longer look at his paintings and sketches the same now that she was no longer with him. Melancholy was a word that could not measure how much he had missed her. Looking up at the stars can only bring him the painful memory of when he had professed his love to her. Walking through the field of Cecilias can only remind him of how much he had missed what it was like to hold her hand and kiss her on the forehead. The times he stayed up to continue doing his research with (Y/N) on his side would remind him that things will never be the same because she’s gone.

Perhaps his grief has gotten the best of him.

He looked at all of the scattered pages that were ripped out of his notebook. All of the pages had perfect drawings of (Y/N) in her natural state. The bags under Albedo’s teal blue eyes were enough to show anyone how much he stayed up thinking about her.

Albedo walked up to a large canvas that was carefully painted and crafted to be almost flawless. (Y/N)’s body fit the painting and looked as if she could come to life.

It didn’t matter if Albedo broke the natural laws of life.

All he wanted to do was see (Y/N)’s smile once again.

Albedo gripped the portrait in front of him desperately.

If all fails, he’ll just continue to try again.

And again.

That’s what it takes to be an alchemist. It’s all trial and error. Albedo couldn’t leave any more room for doubt. He has to continue persisting to look for her fleeting love. He will face any consequence in order to get her back safely in his arms. He’ll obstruct and rip apart any law of alchemy to even receive another affectionate, “I love you”. He is the only person to understand her weakness, and he continues to walk the path of life to have her as his strength. His azure eyes widened with determination, a surge of light glowing from his hands.

He will continue saying this.

Again.

“Arise, lifeless dust of the universe and that within. Thou art reborn.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #albedo #genshin impact albedo #albedo genshin impact #albedo x reader #reader insert #genshin impact x rea #genshin impact reader #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #albedo chief alchemist #albedo mondstadt #genshin impact albedo x reader

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on-maars · 3 years ago

Text

The Castle Operation

Alright I posted it on AO3 like one hour ago and I’m already overwhelmed by the comments you guys are crazy but I’m so grateful. I was feeling very insecure about my writing and all the comments made me smile like an idiot.

Find it on AO3.

Christopher sighs as he chews on his pencil.

This Math exercise is hard and he’s been working on it for more than half an hour. It’s a long time, and if he gets stuck any longer then he won’t have time to play video games.

Buck is usually the one to help him with his homework. Especially Math. His father is very bad at Math and Buck is not very good at it either but they usually manage to get through it together, as a team.

You and I make a great team – that’s what Buck told him a few weeks ago and Christopher doesn’t understand why he’s not around anymore. He used to be there all the time after his dad got hurt. He used to make breakfast and drive him to school and help him with his homework and read him stories just before nighttime. But that was before.

He’s alone again with his dad now. And Christopher loves his dad. In fact, if you’d ask him he’d say he’s the best dad in the world, for sure. But he thought that maybe this time Buck would have stayed. He thought that maybe his dad would want him to stay.

But his dad never asked.

Christopher presses his small hands over his face and rubs his eyes. He’s tired and he wants to sit on the couch and play video games and talk with his friends but he’s stuck on this chair because of this stupid Math exercise. He doesn’t even like Math.

“What’s going on in there?” Carla asks after a few seconds. She sits down next to him and Christopher drops his pencil on the table.

“I don’t like Math.” Christopher only answers, shrugging his shoulders. He raises his eyes and sighs when he realizes it’s only 5pm. He still has to wait two hours for his dad to come back and maybe then he can ask him if Buck can come too, for a movie night.

“Why do I feel like there’s something more than that?” Carla asks, raising her eyebrows. Christopher doesn’t like it when she does that. She always knows when something is bothering him and he can never lie to her. He tried before but it never worked.

“I miss Bucky.” Christopher says, slowly.

“Oh honey I miss him too.” Carla answers. “But you know he’s not far, right?”

“I know.” Christopher whispers. “But he used to be around all the time. He used to be around all the time and now he’s gone.” Christopher adds, taking the pen to scribble on his notebook. “I don’t understand why Dad didn’t ask him to stay.”

“Did you want him to stay?” Carla asks, smiling.

“Of course I did.” Christopher frowns. “I want him to stay forever.” He clarifies. Because he thinks it’s important, for people to know that Buck belongs here with them. Not in his own flat. Not with anyone else. Here . With him and his dad. “And I know dad wants that, too. He didn’t ask him to stay but I know he wanted to. I’m not stupid. He’s always happy when he’s around. He smiles all the time and sometimes he looks at him the same way he used to look at Mom.”

“Oh, Christopher.” Carla says, wrapping her arms around his back. Christopher sniffles and hides his face on her chest, closing his eyes. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“So you see it too, then?” Christopher moves away from Carla’s embrace and adjusts his glasses on his nose.

“I do.” Carla agrees. “Very much so.” She adds. “But maybe your dad hasn’t seen it yet.”

“But that’s not possible.” Christopher shakes his head. Surely, his dad has seen it, too. His dad notices everything. He always does.

“Maybe it’s easier for us to tell because we can see it from a distance.” Carla explains and Christopher frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember the Lego castle you built with Buck?” Christopher nods and smiles. It was a very big castle and Buck and him had taken an entire afternoon to build it. It was very complicated and messy and his dad had even said they could take some snacks upstairs in his room so that they could be done before diner. But it was a long time ago and Christopher doesn’t understand what it has to do with anything.

“I do.” He says, looking down at his hands.

“And when you stand very close to it, you can’t really see everything all at once, can you?” She asks and Christopher nods again. It’s true – he thinks. He usually has to move his eyes a lot if he wants to see the whole thing. “Maybe you can see one of the windows very well, or even a tower or the drawbridge.” She continues. “But the only way to see it all, the only way to see the whole castle is if you stand a bit further.”

“But I don’t want Buck to go anywhere.” Christopher argues.

“And he’s not.” Carla reassures him, ruffling his hair. “He’s not going anywhere. He’s always gonna be there, Christopher. But maybe that’s why you can see it so clearly and your dad doesn’t.”

“Because I can see the whole castle.” Christopher smiles. “That’s okay, then.” He says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Dad can only see the drawbridge.” He says. “But I’m gonna help him see the whole castle, too.”

---

Christopher spends a lot of time thinking about it. Whether it be in his bed, on the couch, in the play-yard or even in his classroom. He knows he’s supposed to listen to what his teacher is saying but he just can’t help it.

It’s only for a few minutes though, and Buck told him the other day that sometimes it’s important to take small breaks in order to be more focused on the problem at hand afterwards. And that’s what he does, taking small breaks, thinking about something else than what the teacher is saying.

So really, he’d say it’s even a win-win situation. He gets to reflect on the Helping Dad to See the Whole Castle situation and he’s then more concentrated on his exercises.

It’s only two weeks after his conversation that he comes up with a plan. A very good plan – he thinks. He’s not exactly sure it’s going to work out but he owes it to his dad to at least try, right? His dad’s happiness is at stake so the least he can do is give him a little push in the right direction.

The plan comes to him one day when he’s seated at the table inside the fire station, drawing a picture for Buck. Hen and Chim are comfortably seated on the couch next to him and Uncle Bobby and Buck are in the kitchen, cooking mac and cheese for the whole team. Christopher can hear them talking but he’s much more focused on his dad.

Because his dad is leaning against the fridge and he’s looking at Buck again, with the same expression he used to look at his mom with. He’s smiling and his eyes are so bright Christopher honestly thinks the whole thing is ridiculous. Surely his dad must know he’s in love with Bucky.

And that’s when he hears them. Hen and Chim. They probably both think Christopher is too engrossed on his drawing to notice they’re talking but he can hear them loud and clear.

“When do you think he’ll finally realize?” Chim asks, his voice low, almost whispering.

“I have no idea.” Hen answers. “But it better be soon because you and I both know Buck’s never gonna make the first move.”

Christopher frowns. First move? But to do what? He thinks. From the way they’re talking in hushed voices, he knows it must be important and so he keeps on drawing and listens carefully to the rest of the conversation. They seem very serious. Which Christopher decides is weird. They’re usually always laughing and sharing jokes but this time he can feel it’s more important.

“You know for a while I really thought it was one-sided.” Chimney says.

“Well you know Eddie. He’s never been very vocal about these kind of things.”

“I mean does he need to?” Chim asks. “I mean, look at him!” He adds, louder this time.

Christopher turns his head until his eyes fall on his dad again. He’s still in the kitchen but this time he’s whispering something in Buck’s ear, his hand holding Buck’s arm. They’re both laughing, and that makes Christopher smile. No one makes his dad happier than Buck does. Except him, of course.

Then his dad taps Buck on the back of his neck with his hand and Buck only sticks his tongue out.

“Oh come on!” Hen exclaims and Christopher almost jumps in his seat. “I swear to god if they don’t come to their senses soon, I’m locking them in the closet downstairs.” She adds. “They’re literally acting like a married couple, Chim!”

And Christopher’s smile only gets a bit bigger at her words.

They see it too – he realizes.

They see the whole castle.

And maybe that’s what he needs to do. Maybe that’s what his dad needs.

And so he takes another piece of paper his dad brought with them and starts writing:

Castle operation:

Start telling people about it. But who?

My teacher.

The nice lady of the supermarket.

Uncle Bobby and Aunt Athena?

Abuela.

Find out if Bucky knows about the Castle.

Wait for dad to see it too.

---

The first people Christopher tells are Uncle Bobby and Aunt Athena. He’s standing up on a stool and he’s helping Bobby making soup from scratch. Chicken soup. His dad’s favorite because they’re celebrating him coming back to active duty tonight and Christopher wants everything to be perfect.

He stirs the soup with the big spatula Bobby gave him a few minutes ago and smiles at the scent. It smells just like when his Abuela does it. That’s why Christopher knows it’s gonna be good.

“Where’s Bucky?” Christopher eventually asks after a few seconds. He usually always helps in the kitchen and he can’t see him anywhere.

“He’s talking to your dad in the garden.” Bobby answers, pointing at the glass window. “Look, right there.” He adds, making Christopher look up.

And here he is. Buck. He’s standing next to his dad but Christopher can instantly see that something is wrong. He seems sad. His dad seems sad, too. He’s running his hands through his hair and Christopher knows his dad always does that when he’s nervous about something. It doesn’t happen often but he always notices it.

Christopher tries to keep his eyes on the soup but his curiosity eventually gets the best of him. He darts his eyes towards his dad again and that’s when he sees it. His dad takes a few steps backwards but Buck catches his wrist before he has the chance to walk away.

Christopher squints and even from the kitchen, he knows what Buck is saying must be very important because he looks at his dad in the eye and the next second he wraps his arms around his shoulders and gives him a hug. He even kisses him on the hair and Christopher thinks that’s obviously something he needs to write down on his Castle Operation journal tonight.

“My dad and Bucky are in love.�� He only says and doesn’t miss the smile Uncle Bobby shares with Aunt Athena who just joined them in the kitchen.

“You think so?” Uncle Bobby asks, tasting the soup with a spoon.

“I don’t think, I know.” Christopher clarifies. “They just don’t see it yet.” He adds. “But that’s okay. I’ll make sure they do.”

“You do that, kid.” Athena says with a laugh, ruffling his hair.

---

Christopher is lost in the supermarket. It’s a big one and he can’t find Buck. They were doing groceries shopping in order to surprise his dad and cook him his favorite dessert and the next thing Christopher knew he was alone, looking for Buck.

It’s okay, though. Christopher is not scared. It’s not the first time he gets lost in here and it already happened a few times with his dad. He would usually roam around the shelves and look at his right, and then his left, until his eyes fall on Buck but this time, he decides to choose a more direct approach.

He thinks that’s a perfect opportunity to tell the nice lady about Buck. Him and his dad always go to her checkout because she’s always giving him a lollipop. He walks away from the refrigerated shelves and heads for the entrance of the store.

She’s here, at the checkout 6 as always and there’s no-one paying or placing their items on the conveyor belt.

“Christopher!” She exclaims with a smile. “You’re here with your dad again? Where is he?”

“I’m here with Bucky!” Christopher says excitedly. “He’s my second dad. We wanted to buy chocolate chips because we’re going to do a brownie for my dad. It’s his favorite dessert. But I lost Buck. I don’t know where he is.”

“Do you want me to call him with the loudspeaker?” She asks and Christopher nods vigorously. He thinks that’s en excellent idea. Like that, so many people will know that Buck is his dad. It doesn’t matter whether they know him or not. Christopher doesn’t care. In fact, he would happily scream it on the rooftops if it meant his dad would finally realize he’s in love with Buck.

“Christopher Diaz is waiting for his dad next to Checkout six.” She announces and Christopher smiles big at her words. “Alright Christopher, which one do you want today?” She asks, pointing at the bowl filled with lollipops.

“Cherry!”

“Cherry it is, then.” She says, handing it to him. He’s about to thank her when-

“Christopher!” Buck exclaims, rushing towards him, his eyes big, his face wrinkled in concern. “I looked everywhere for you, buddy.” He adds.

“That’s okay Bucky, I was right there.” Christopher says.

“Another lollipop?” He sighs, smiling at the nice lady. “God, you’ve already eaten at least six of these cookies this afternoon, your dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Well he doesn’t need to know… Does he?” Christopher asks cheekily and Buck laughs.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right. Let’s keep it a secret, yeah?” He asks. “Now come on, let’s find these chocolate chips, alright? We don’t wanna be late to surprise your dad.”

---

“Goodnight, superman.” Buck whispers a few hours later, kissing him on his forehead.

It’s late and Christopher is tired but he knows his dad is in the shower and he’s pretty sure now is the best time to figure out if Buck is also seeing the Castle for what it really is. And so he just says it.

“Buck.” He calls him, waiting for him to sit back on his bed to continue. “Do you love my dad?” He asks and watches Buck as he opens his eyes wide, his mouth agape. He seems surprised. But Christopher doesn’t look away.

“Hum I- Of course I love him buddy, he’s my best-friend.” He says. “After you, of course.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Christopher insists, sitting up straight on his bed. He rubs his eyes with his hands and holds back a yawn. “I’m asking you if you’re in love with him.” He clarifies.

Buck doesn’t answer anything. He stays very quiet and for a few seconds Christopher thinks that maybe he didn’t hear him. He’s about to repeat the question but then Buck lets out a small laugh and looks down at his hands, like he’s scared.

“Would-would that be a problem?” Buck asks, meeting his gaze. “If I said that I was?” He asks. “In love with your dad, that is.” He adds. “Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” Christopher only answers, frowning. He doesn’t understand why Buck needs to ask him that question.

“Then I- yeah.” Buck admits. “I am. I’m in love with your dad.” He smiles. That makes Christopher smiles too and he nods as he wraps up warmly in his blanket.

“So you see the castle, too.” Christopher states, his eyes watching the lego set standing in the corner of his room.

“The castle?” Buck tilts his head with a confused smile on his face.

“You and dad.” Christopher explains, his voice tired. “You guys are the Castle.” He says. “Carla said I could see it because I was standing further away.” He adds. “She said my dad was too close and that’s why he couldn’t see it. But I don’t think she was right.”

“No?” Buck encourages him, running his hand through Christopher’s curls.

“No. I think he’s exactly in the right place.” He goes on. “He’s just too scared to see it.” His eyes are closed now. But he pushes through the fatigue and says the next few words anyway. He needs to stay awake. At least only for a few more minutes. Because this conversation is too important.

“And why do you think he’s scared to see it?” Buck asks, curious.

“Because he’s afraid it might break if he gets too close.” He says. “So he doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t touch it either. Maybe he pretends it isn’t there, too. Like that, he’s sure it can’t break.”

Christopher falls asleep. But he stills hears Buck’s answer.

“Or maybe he just thinks there’s no Castle to look at in the first place.”

There are two last thoughts crossing Christopher’s mind before he lets himself fall completely into Morpheus’ arms.

Buck definitely knows about the Castle. He’s just afraid his dad thinks it doesn’t exist.

Adults are too messy and complicated. Being a kid is easier.

---

Christopher is at his Abuela's with his dad. He’s sitting on the carpet in the living-room, his Lego bricks scattered around him. He’s trying to build the fire station but it turns out to be much more complicated than he expected it to be.

His Abuela and his dad are in the kitchen and Christopher isn’t planning on eavesdropping because he knows it’s a bad thing but his name suddenly comes up in the conversation and if what they’re saying concerns him then it must mean he has the right to listen, right? It only makes sense.

“So, is Christopher excited about his summer camp?” His Abuela says.

“Yeah I think so.” His dad answers and Christopher nods vigorously even though they can’t see him. His dad is right. He is very excited. All his friends are going to be there and he knows he’s gonna have the best of time. He’s just afraid not to have the time to make his dad see the Castle before he goes. Because school ends in a week and then it’s only two days before the summer camp starts. It’s not much time and Christopher already tried to make a lot of allusions about the Buck situation in front of his dad but he’s afraid his dad might need a lot more help than he initially thought.

“It’s gonna be good for him.” His abuela answers.

“Who gave you flowers?” His dad asks, pointing at the stargazer bouquet placed on the table.

“Your boy brought them to me this morning.” She says and Christopher frowns. Your boy? Is she maybe talking about B-

“He’s not my-" His dad starts but marks a pause. “Buck brought you flowers?” He asks and Christopher’s smile only gets a bit bigger.

“He did. I needed to change a bulb on my bedroom ceiling light but I didn’t trust myself to do it.” She says and Christopher thinks it’s very nice of Buck to have come help his Abuela, like he does with him every day and like he did with his dad after he got hurt. He’s always taking good care of his family and if you’d ask Christopher, he would say that’s probably the reason why he loves him so much.

“So you called Buck?” His dad asks incredulously. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come.”

“Oh I would you would have, Eddito.” She answers and pats his dad on the cheek a few times. “But you were already busy with Christopher’s medical appointment." She says. "Besides, Buck was already supposed to come so I could give him the tamales recipe.”

Chris opens his eyes wide and whirls his head around towards his Abuela, his Lego set long forgotten.

His Abuela was very secretive about her recipes. Especially the tamales one. Christopher knew her own dad taught her how to cook and she always refuses to share the recipes with anyone who wasn’t family. Even Miss Flores didn’t have the recipes privileges. This was very sacred. And if Buck could have them then it could only mean one thing: His Abuela definitely knows about the Castle too.

“You-” His dad says but stops mid-sentence. He seems very surprised, just as much as Christopher. “You shared that recipe with him?” He asks. “I thought- I thought it was only reserved f-”

“Only reserved for family?” His Abuela cuts in. “Eddie, are you really telling me this boy is not family? After everything he’s done for y-”

“No, no I know.” His dad says. “And he is.” He adds. “I just-”

“You just what?” His abuela asks. “You know, I never really understood why you wasted your time with that girl.” She continues. She’s talking about Miss Flores – Christopher thinks, sticking two Lego bricks together to pretend he’s still very engrossed in what he's doing – but really all his attention is focused on their discussion.

“Ana?” His dad asks, his eyebrows raised. “What about her? I thought you liked h-”

“I did.” His Abuela answers. Christopher did, too. She was very nice, and she was always helping him with his homework. But Buck was Buck. Nobody would ever measure up to him. Nobody could ever measure up to him “She was a very nice woman. But I knew it wouldn’t last. Not as long as Buck was there.”

“Abuela, I-”

“Edmundo, this boy is a ray of sunshine. Agradezco a Jesus que lo encontraste todos los dias.” She says. “Es perfecto para ti y sé que lo amas.”

“He’s too good for me, Abuela.” His dad admits and Christopher frowns.

“That’s not true.” He says in a whisper even if he knows his dad can’t hear him.

“You deserve nice things, Edmundo.” Abuela concludes, patting his dad on the cheek once again. “Don’t forget that.”

“I wish you could see the whole Castle.” Christopher tells him later when his dad tucks him in.

“The whole Castle?” His dad asks, his smile confused. “What do you mean, mijo?”

“I can’t tell you, yet.” Christopher says, closing his eyes. “You need to figure it out on your own."

---

It’s the last day of school and Christopher is running out of time. Buck hasn’t spent a single night with them this week and his dad seems sadder than usual. Or maybe not sad – Christopher thinks, but distracted. He always has this faraway look in his eyes, like he’s thinking of something very important but he can’t make a decision.

Christopher wishes he could help but he knows his dad doesn’t really like to talk about himself and how he feels. And so he observes him quietly from afar, trying to find ways to make him feel better. That’s why he convinced his dad to invite Buck for a movie night after school. Because there’s no one who can cheer him up quite like the way Bucky does.

He’s seated on his chair and he’s drawing a picture of himself with Buck and his dad. He’s been drawing a lot of pictures just like this one for a few weeks because he will be away in that summer camp for Buck’s birthday and so he decided to do a drawing for each day he spends without him to make up for it.

“That’s a nice drawing you did there, Chris.” His teacher says, squatting down next to his table.

“That’s for my second dad.” Christopher nods. “For his birthday.”

“Oh so that’s the famous Buck I keep hearing about.” She says, pointing at the person standing next to his dad.

“Yes, that’s him.” Christopher nods excitedly. “He’s the best.”

“I’m sure he is.” His teacher agrees and turns her head when someone knocks on the door. “Oh, looks like your dad’s here.” She says. Christopher whirls his head around and smiles wildly at his dad who starts conversing with his teacher.

“Are you and your husband going to join us for the end of year picnic tomorrow?” She asks and Christopher smiles cheekily while putting his stuff back in his schoolbag.

“My- my husband?” His dad asks. He sounds very confused.

“Your partner?” His teacher corrects herself. “I’m sorry, from the way Chris talks about his Bucky, I assumed you guys were married.”

“Uh no we’re not- we’re not married. He’s… He’s just my f-” His dad starts but marks a pause. “We’re not married.” He says again.

“My apologies. But you should bring him anyway.” Ms. Walker says. “We’d love to meet him.”

“Uh yeah I- I’m sure he’d like that.” His dad says with a smile.

Christopher follows him out of the classroom and to the car. He fastens his seat-belt and takes the book about space Buck bought for him a few weeks ago. He’s still not done reading it and he really wants to finish it before summer camp so he can discuss it with him.

“Christopher.” His dad calls him from the driver seat. “Why does your teacher think Buck and I are married?” He asks. Christopher was scared his dad would be upset but he only sounds curious. Confused, too.

“Because I told her he was my second dad.” Christopher answers matter-of-factly.

“Why… Why did you do that?”

“Because he is.” Christopher sighs, pressing his hands over his face.

Christopher thinks his dad is going to say something else but he stays very quiet instead. The whole drive is silent until he parks the car on the driveway where Buck is already waiting for them in his truck. He waves at Christopher excitedly and engulfs him into a hug as soon as he’s out of the car.

“Buck!” Christopher exclaims, his smile big. “You’re here early.”

“It’s never too early for my favorite Diaz boy.” He answers, ruffling his hair.

Once inside the house, Christopher lets go of his school bag, takes off his shoes and sits at the table. Buck serves him cereals with milk, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. His dad is seated at the table but he’s still very quiet and for a few seconds Christopher is afraid he might have done something stupid but then Buck slides a second bowl filled with cereals and milk in front of him and his dad smiles softly at him and rolls his eyes.

“What?” Buck defends himself. “I know you’re a sucker for cereals when you’re all cranky.”

“I’m not cranky!”

“Right.” Buck answers, raising his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Eat your cereals, Diaz.”

“Yeah dad.” Christopher repeats. “Eat your cereals.”

Christopher spends the next half hour telling them about his school day and then Buck tells him all about a documentary he saw a few nights ago about the Egyptian Pyramids. Christopher thinks it’s fascinating and after making both his dads promise they would take him in the Egyptian Museum in San Jose, he sits down on the sofa and goes on reading his book about Space.

“Bucky.” He still says after a while.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I have a drawing for you. Wait here.” Christopher answers. He stands up and opens his school bag, taking the drawing he did in class while he was waiting for his dad to pick him up. He wanted to give it to Buck just before leaving for his summer camp but he feels like maybe it needs to be given now. Maybe that’s the only way for his dad to see the Castle.

Because it is . A Castle. Chrstopher drew a big one at the center, with him, his dad and Buck standing next to it, all smiling.

Christopher gives it to him and he can instantly see a soft smile breaking in on Buck’s face. His dad is watching too over his shoulders, and when Buck looks up at him with a knowing look on his face, Christopher smiles too. He knew Buck would understand.

“It’s… It’s the Castle.” Buck says. Christopher can see that his eyes are filled with tears and so he wraps his small arms around Buck’s shoulders.

“You know about this?” His dad asks after a few seconds, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “You know about the Castle metaphors?” He add. “I mean he actually explained it to you?”

“Uh… Maybe?” Buck says, apologetically.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well I’m not sure you’re quite there yet.” Buck answers and Christopher nods sadly.

“What do you mean I’m not quite there yet?” His dad asks, exasperated. “Can you both stop talking in riddle and tell me what’s going on?”

Christopher signs and looks down at his hands. Maybe this has gone off long enough – he thinks. Maybe it’s time to tell him directly. Maybe that’s what his dad needs, for Christopher and Buck to tell him that’s it’s okay, that no Castle is too big for him. And so he takes the sheet of paper and turns it the other way, revealing what’s written on the back.

“Me and my two dads.”

“That’s the castle, dad.” Christopher finally says. “You’re the castle. You and Bucky.”

“And you too.” Buck adds with a smile and Christopher just nods.

“Hum I- I still don’t get it.” His dad admits and Buck lets out a small laugh. But Christopher can see he’s scared too. He knows it because he doesn’t look at his dad in the eye. He looks down at his hands instead.

“Of course you don’t.” Buck still says with a smile.

“It’s our family.” Christopher clarifies. “And Buck is a part of it.”

“Of course he’s a part of it Chris, but what does it have to do with anyt- Oh.”

“Buck’s been inside the Castle for a very long time, dad.” Christopher explains. “I thought you knew it too. But then you started dating Miss Flores and it wasn’t fair to Bucky.” He adds. “I- I’ve never been mad at you for dating again, dad. I was mad at you because I thought that Bucky was the only one with the key to our Castle but then she was there and he was gone. I felt like you were replacing him and I didn’t like that.”

“Christopher, I-” His dad starts but marks a pause, letting his eyes fall on Buck for a few seconds. Buck is still very quiet and his eyes are bright with tears and they’re still fixed on the few words written on the back of the drawing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His dad asks.

“I tried.” Christopher says with a small voice. “And Miss Flores was nice.” He adds. “She was nice and I liked her very much but she was-”

“She was never Buck.” His dad finishes for him and Buck whirls his head around to look at his dad in the eye. “What? He’s a smart kid.” His dad says.

“The smartest.” Buck chokes up and tears are rolling down his face. But that’s okay because his dad places both of his hands on his cheeks and wipes them with his thumbs.

“Buck was scared you thought there was no Castle to see.” Christopher explains but frowns when that only makes Bucky cry harder.

“Of course there’s a Castl- Dios.” His dad says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Buck.” He goes on. “Evan.” He adds, and Buck finally looks up at him. “Of course there’s a Castl- god, I’ve had enough with these Castle references.” He says, and Buck laughs through his tears. “Of course you’re a part of this family, Buck. You always have. Always will.”

“Always.” Christopher agrees, placing his small hand over Buck’s. “You should kiss him now, dad.”

“I should, right?” His dad says cheekily, cradling Buck’s chin with his right hand and pressing their lips together. Only for a few seconds, though. Otherwise that’s just too gross – Christopher thinks. His dad then whispers something along the line of Christopher was right and you do have the keys to my heart and Christopher doesn’t really understand what that means but Bucky throws his head backwards, laughing, so Christopher only guesses his dad must be doing something good.

“You didn’t just say that, Diaz.” Buck says. “That’s sappy as hell, even for you.” He adds and his dad taps him on the back of his neck again, still smiling.

Christopher eventually looks away though and focuses on his book about Space once again because his job here is done:

The Castle Operation is officially a success.

#buddie #buddie fic #buck x eddie #9-1-1 #911 #my writing #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz

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ramen-rambles · 4 years ago

Text

Bottom Bitch

Kinktober Day 1: Sex Toys

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Warnings: 18+, tw: drugs, weed/marijuana, sex toys (double edged dildo, vibrator), scissoring, anal, rimming, spit play

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Quarantine fucking sucks. And unfortunately, your boyfriend’s birthday just so happened to be in right in the middle of this pandemic. With the end of the world seemingly drawing near, you suggest to do something you two have never done before. Who knew that Oikawa would turn into such a needy bitch when he was high?

A/N: Ahahahaha I’m sorry I haven’t written anything since February LOL. And also, I’m sorry for randomly disappearing for literal months. Uh, please accept this as an apology… I feel like I’ve been a little rusty but I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Kinktober!

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

Today was July 20th! Which means that it was Oikawa’s birthday.

Every year, you and your boyfriend usually did what every couple did to celebrate. A cute date, a nice dinner, a rough fucking — you know, the works. But this year you two ran into a bit of a problem. Unfortunately, due to the mandated self quarantine orders, you couldn’t really do that. But you still wanted to make the most of the situation.

Just before all the non-essential shops temporarily closed, you were able to make a stop at your local dispensary. You figured that since it seemed like the end of the world was drawing ever near, why not indulge yourselves in some of mother nature’s best gifts?

The hardest part of this whole thing wasn’t even the fact that you were stuck inside for Oikawa’s special day, no, the hard part was going to be convincing him to get high with you. He knew that you smoked. For fuck’s sake, all of his friends did too. During your high school days, the Seijoh third years were notorious for blazing it up (Matsukawa and Hanamaki, especially). Even as adults, there were times when you would all find some free time just to have a relaxing smoke sesh and catch up on each other’s lives. As they say, old habits die hard.

So, you wanting to get stoned was no surprise to him. He, on the other hand, was not an avid participant.

Currently, the two of you were laying down in bed, watching whatever was on television, not that you two were really paying attention. Your mind was more occupied on how exactly you were supposed to bring up this little idea of yours. Getting Oikawa to agree to anything was hard enough as it is, let alone something that seemed so out of his comfort zone.

“Hey, happy birthday again, Shittykawa. I love you so much, you know that?” You said, looking at him lovingly and nudging him on his side, placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Who are you, Iwa-chan?” He scoffed. “But I love you too, baby. And you know you’ve greeted me almost a million times today, right?”, eagerly returning your gesture.

“I can’t help it! I’m sorry that our usual birthday plans got ruined because of this stupid quarantine. I wish I could make it up to you.” You pouted, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I have a couple of ideas that would more than make up for it,” he teased, grabbing your ass before giving it a loud smack, “but have you got anything in mind, princess?”

“I actually have something in mind that I really wanted to do with you…”

“Oh? And what could that be? You going to let me eat that cake of yours?” He said, sitting up on his elbow, with a shit-eating smirk plastered all over that pretty face of his.

“Well… I was actually hoping that we could get high today… You know, since it seems like the world is ending and all.” You said, nervously scratching the back of your head. “I thought it would be fun to celebrate your birthday in a way we’ve never done before!”

You sounded doubtful. You had a feeling that he was going to refuse, but his answer came as a surprise.

“Okay, deal.”

Did you hear that right? Did he just agree with you? Did your stubborn boyfriend say yes, with absolutely no hesitation?

“R-really!? Wow, I didn’t expect you to be so on board with it! I thought I was going to have to convince you way more.” You cheered, hands wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Whatever, it’s not like we can go anywhere anyways. Might as well go wild!” He said with a smug smirk on his face.

You excitedly hopped off the bed and ran towards your closet, grabbing the goodies you bought. You had bought quite a few products — some edibles, a couple prerolls, and a brand new wax pen.

“Jesus christ, how much shit did you buy? You must have spent a fortune.”

“Money is no object when it comes to you, Tooru. Also, you don’t really do this kind of thing, so I just wanted us to have some options. In all honesty, I didn’t even think you’d say yes to doing this.”

“Well, let’s get this party started, princess.”

You smiled eagerly and laid out all the products in front of him, “So, what do you want to try first? Birthday boy gets to choose.”

He immediately went for the wax pen, taking a long drag and inhaling the smoke, making sure to keep it in his lungs for a bit before grabbing the back of your head, and forcing your lips to part open before he exhales the smoke into your mouth, as if he was an expert at it. For someone who didn’t do this often, he sure as hell didn’t look like it.

“Someone seems a bit excited, huh?” You teased, before crashing your lips together in a heated spit swapping session.

You made your way on top of him, mouth never leaving his, running out of breath as he starts sucking on your tongue, drool spilling out the side of your mouth as it dribbles down onto his face.

“Fuck. You nasty bitch, you just spit all over my fucking face.”

“Oh, shut up,” you breathed, “you act like you practically weren’t drinking out of my mouth just a second ago.”

The both of you consistently took turns taking hits off the pen. Inhaling and exhaling the delicious smoke as if your lives depended on it.

The two of you started feeling the effects of the drugs get to your head. Lightheaded. Spinning. Intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel more. No, you needed to feel more.

You went for the edible and shoved the cookie into your mouth, leaving half of it hanging out. You fed Oikawa the rest of it. He took it willingly, watching a shiver go down his spine as he shuddered from the bitter taste go down his throat when he swallowed. “That tastes like shit. How the fuck do you eat this crap so often?” You let out a small giggle, admiring how cute his inexperience was. “Oh calm down, it shouldn’t take long for you to start feeling it kick in.”

“So, c’mon birthday boy, let me take care of you.”

You started kissing over his jawline, licking and letting your teeth bite down on the soft skin of his neck. You nuzzled your face closer, leaving marks and bruises painted all over him.

You continued straddling his waist, your clothed cunt rubbing ever so slowly against his growing erection. Teasing, dragging out the sensation of his cock throbbing over your slit, feeling yourself get more and more drenched with desire. “Are you doing okay, Tooru?”

“I feel so fucking good. You make me feel so fucking good.” Hearing him sound so desperate and needy caused your cunt to clench. “F-fuck, can you suck my cock, princess? Can you do that for me, please?” You had never really seen this side of him before, but the tables were turning and you were more than willing to give him what he wanted.

You pulled his shirt up, making your way down his torso, licking and kissing all over his toned abs, sucking on his sensitive little nipples. You slipped your hands under the waistband of his underwear, stroking his hardened cock. You quickly rid him of all his remaining clothes. You followed suit. Now, with the both of you completely naked, the fun was just about to start.

Gently, you licked a stripe along his head paying close attention to the prominent veins that adorned his massive length. His cock was already dripping, the head beading with his precum. Spitting on your palm, you languidly stroked him, watching his toes curl and a small moan slip out of his mouth. You looked up at him and his eyes were screwed shut, he used his free hand to find purchase on the back of your head. Fisiting your hair, he moved it to the side to make sure he got a good look at how well you sucked his cock. He pushed you further down his length, causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat.

You could tell he was close, but just before he could finish, you pulled away. “Shit. Fuck. W-why’d you stop?”

Aw. He sounded so disheartened.

“Get on your hands and knees, baby. I want to try something new.” You said with a devilish grin on your face. He looked hesitant at first but his head was spinning so much that he just did it with no resistance.

You roughly pulled his ass up in the air, your small hands spreading his cheeks apart, exposing his tight, puckered asshole. You let your spit pool in your mouth, teasingly letting it string in between your lips before allowing it to drip over his ass. You circled the pad of your tongue around his rim, prodding it slowly in and out of his tightness. Continuing your assault, you sneaked your hand in between his thighs, stroking his cock every time you pressed inside of him. Oikawa’s hands were fisted into the sheets and his face looked hot to the touch, a red tint glazing all over his body.

You bit down on your bottom lip, and rubbed your thighs together at the ideas that were brewing in your mind. You reached underneath your bed and grabbed your box full of sex toys, pulling out lube, two vibrators and a thick, purple, double edged dildo. The look of Oikawa getting off to having his ass ate made your cunt pulsate with lust, and so the mere thought of him having him stuffed with a toy had your head fucking spinning. You wanted nothing more than to make a wreck out of his pretty little ass.

Oikawa was still face down on the bed. His mouth was hanging open, panting heavily as he tried to control his breathing. He was so blissed out, his head seemed to be somewhere in the clouds.

“Tooru, hey, are you okay? Lie down for me.” You squished his face in between your fingers to get his attention. When he finally turned to you, you could tell he was high beyond belief. “Mhm. Just feeling weird. It feels like the room is both spinning and still at the same time.” He huffed, moving onto his back, resting against the soft satin sheets. You giggled at how he turned into such a needy little boy, practically begging to be fucked into absolute senselessness.

“Look at me, baby.” You brought one end of the dildo up to your mouth, slowly sucking it off as if it was Oikawa’s cock fucking your mouth instead. He could feel his dick twitch at the sight in front of him, his asshole involuntary clenching thinking about how it might feel to have it inside him. Inching closer to him, you held the dildo in between the two of you and guided the other end of the toy up to his lips. Parting them slowly, he began copying the same movements that you were doing on the other side. Pulling away momentarily, “Shit. You look so fucking hot when you suck cock, baby” you say, letting your free hand roam down to his hardened nipples, pinching and tweaking them, illiciting small moans to escape his lips while he choked on the toy in his mouth.

“As much as I love seeing you suck on that pretty toy, I know a place to put it that’ll make you feel real fucking good.” Taking the dildo out of his mouth, you slide yourself down towards his lower half, spreading his thighs apart to see his hole that glistened with your spit, and his cock that oozed precum. You pressed wet kisses along his length, tongue stroking his balls, allowing yourself to slither over his perineum, causing him to writhe underneath your touch. You brought your fingers up to his mouth, collecting saliva around your digits before gently pressing them against his tight hole, slowly inching them deeper and deeper inside of him.

He winced at the intrusion, making his face contort in pain. But surely, that burning sensation of you prodding your slim fingers inside his tight hole began morphing into a euphoric pleasure. He let out a small moan, bringing his fingers up to his lips and biting down on them to suppress the noises that were coming out of his mouth. You paused what you were doing to him to look up and whispered “Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that. I want to hear all those pretty noises you’re making while you act like such a little whore.”

“So be louder for me, sweetheart” you snickered sinisterly as you continued your ministrations on his overly sensitive hole.

If you weren’t high earlier, then you definitely were now. The effects of the marijuana elevating your sense of reality as the two of you drift into a state of pure fucking bliss.

You started feeling more impatient, more needy. You needed to get off and you need it now. And Oikawa felt just the same. The look on his face was confirmation of that. Panting heavily, drool escaping the side of his mouth, and wet tears decorating his red cheeks — he looked like he was about to cum without even trying.

With no delay, you grabbed the dildo and the lube from the side of the bed and began to slather the cold fluid over both ends of the toy. You positioned yourself in front of him, placing one end up to his tight rim while you lined the other side against your dripping wet pussy. You hadn’t even realized how wet you had become because you were so focused on Oikawa — you didn’t notice that your cunt was practically leaking all over you.

“Haaah. Look at you, baby. Your pussy is begging to be stuffed. So wet for me. So fucking b-beautiful.” Oikawa shuddered, his speech slurred as he was still utterly fucked out because of your incessant teasing from earlier. His words caused your cunt to clench, your eyes closed as you shakingly breathed out, “Please, T-tooru…”

You started to ease the toy inside of Oikawa — slowly but steadily sliding the thick purple dildo into his stretched out hole. He flinched as you finally got half of the toy into his ass, letting out a sinful moan as the head involuntarily hit against his prostate. “Ah, f-fuck! That felt so fucking good. Baby, please…”

His eagerness sparked a flame within you, and so you hurried to shove the rest of the toy inside of your own hole. You let out a sigh of relief as your pussy was finally getting some much needed attention, after being neglected for so long as you focused on pleasing your boyfriend.

You started to move slowly, rocking back and forth against each other as the two of you got used to the sheer size of the toy that connected the both of you. To help ease the pain, you grabbed one of the vibrators, held it up to Oikawa and said, “Here you go, baby. Put it against your cock and show me how you make yourself feel good.”

He took the vibrator from your hand and followed your instructions like a good boy, letting out a loud whimper as the strong vibrations on his cock made his head spin. As he let his sense of control run loose, he started rutting faster against you as you placed your own vibrator on your sensitive clit. This caused the toy to simultaneously hit your g-spot and Oikawa’s prostate, and so the two of you both let out a loud moan together.

“F-FUCK! Tooru — shit. That feels so fucking good! Go faster, I need it so bad. C’mon baby, please, I need you to make me cum!” You panted, circling the vibrator faster against your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the orgasm that you craved so much.

“Oh fuuuuck, princess.” Oikawa moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he ditched the vibrator and tightly wrapped his hand around himself so he could fist-fuck his weeping cock.

A collective string of “shit” and “oh fuck” escaping your mouths as the two of you rutted against each other faster and faster, the dildo pounding in and out of your tight holes — each thrust causing the tip of the toy to slam against both of your sweet spots at the same time.

“Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” Oikawa groaned as he stroked his cock one final time before he came hard all over himself, his chest painted white as his cum came out in hot spurts.

Seeing your boyfriend’s blissed out face was the final push you needed to set yourself over the edge. Your cunt clenched down on the toy as you came with a loud whine, your juices squirting out of your glistening pussy — making a slick mess all over your thighs and on Oikawa’s lower half.

You were so spent that the whole world felt still, the both of you trying to catch your breath and recover from one of the most intense orgasms you two had ever had.

As you came down from your highs, you slowly pulled the dildo out of your abused cunt and Oikawa’s gaped asshole, lazily leaving the toys on a mess of sheets.

With what little ounce of strength you had left, you got on your knees and crawled up next to your boyfriend. After grabbing a tissue and gently cleaning up the mess you two had made together, you placed gentle kisses along his shoulders and collarbone, wrapping yourself up in his embrace.

Now, whether it was the drugs or the intensity of his orgasm, Oikawa looked like he was about to pass out. And honestly, you felt like you were about to knock out too. Not that you could really blame him.

“Hey, wake up, sleepyhead.” You whispered quietly, gently poking Oikawa on the cheek to nudge him awake. You might have been used to handling your high, but Oikawa was still inexperienced when it came to these kinds of things.

“Did you have a good birthday this year?” You asked him, as if you didn’t already know what he was going to say.

“Hi, baby~ Of course I did! I feel so goooood right now! Best birthday everrrr!” He said sheepishly, a tiny grin spreading across his face as he let out a breathy chuckle.

You decided not to question him anymore, knowing he was too far gone to answer anything coherently.

“I love you so much, Tooru. Happy birthday.” You whispered to him before the two of you began dozing off into dreamland.

♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。. ♡ ⌒*ﾟ.❉・゜・。.

#also i write for haikyuu now LOL #haikyuu!!#hq #hq smut #haikyuu smut #oikawa x y/n #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru #oikawa smut #haikyuu x reader #kinktober 2020 #NOT ME POSTING THIS WITH 14 MINUTES LEFT ON OCTOBER 1ST HDBSHJCB #very sorry #tw: drugs #tw: weed

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amajikilvr · 4 years ago

Text

five times you surprised tamaki amajiki and the one time he surprised you

word count 1.3k

reader type gender-neutral

“Amajiki-Kun?”

Their sweet voice makes his heart jolt, its beating rhythm shifts from a casual jog to a panicked sprint. He squeezes his eyes shut when he takes sight of the cheeky grin that quickly spreads across Mirio’s face. He remains frozen until his friend’s foot swings out and nicks him in the shin underneath their usual shared lunch table.

Tamaki’s eyes fly open and his breath catches on the stale cafeteria air like a bur snagging on an exposed sock when he inevitably sees them standing and gazing down at him. It’s a fleeting look, but it’s enough for him to notice the apples of their cheeks puffing out cutely and their whimsical aura of a smile that’s practically blinding.

His throat is bone-dry, but a single word somehow sneaks past his also withered lips.

“Y-Yes?” He’s still staring down at his half-eaten lunch, but they’re so utterly warm, he can easily feel them beside him.

What could they possibly want from him?

Another gentle kick to his lower leg encourages Tamaki to slowly lift his head and turn to them. He’s glad he did because their bright smile is somehow even brighter than before.

“So, hi, I know this is random but....”

They’re absolutely lovely in every sense of the word; from the way they draw out the last word to the breathy little laugh that punctuates their sentence.

“... I was wondering if you wanted this. I made way too many yesterday, but then I saw you sitting over here and remembered how you said you had a sweet tooth during that icebreaker on the first day of school. I just kinda thought “Oh, that’s perfect”, but you definitely don’t have to take it, okay?”

Amid his first stage cardiac arrest, Tamaki had failed to even see the skewer of delectable glistening Dango they’re holding. They offer it out to him and he manages to accept the dessert with a shaking hand.

“Thank you, Y/L/N.” He feels his face bloom with a rather powerful flush.

They nod and make heart-dropping eye contact for a second. “Of course, Amajiki. You’re very welcome. Have a nice day!”

Mirio starts talking before they’re even completely out of earshot.

“You do realize that they probably made those just for you? Congrats, I think someone has a not-so-secret admirer if you know what I mean.”

“Please not right now, Mirio…” Tamaki whines in embarrassment before taking a huge first bite out of his treat.

It’s one of the best things he’s ever tasted.

Tamaki gingerly tears off the little blue butterfly plush that was tapped to the front of his locker. He squeezes the stuffed animal and resists the sudden urge to hug it to his chest.

A single sheet of paper floats out and to his feet after opening the door. Someone must have put these here not that long ago. The realization gives Tamaki an unnerving chest pain and a fluttering crescendo in his stomach.

He carefully picks it up and a faint gasp escapes him as he examines the sparkly multi-colored butterfly stickers that cover the paper and the single sentence scrawled among them.

“I heard that you liked them <3”

Tamaki wants to shove his head in his locker, but before he does, he sees them out of the corner of his eye at the drinking fountain. He’s never seen them in this hallway before…

They finish and apparently spot him, smiling and waving brightly like it’s something the two of them do every day. Tamaki nearly faints on the spot with his heart pattering up a storm.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I forgot!” Nejire squeals and pushes away the textbook in front of her. It’s clear their weekly “Big Three” studying session is about to take the back burner…

“Amajiki, guess what?”

“What?” Tamaki winces, wondering how this could possibly involve him.

Nejire lets out another excited squawk and spins her decorated pen between her fingers. “Y/L/N was totally talking about you! I heard them! Do you know what they said? They think you’re really cute, Amajiki. Can you believe it?”

He can not.

Usually, hearing that others were talking about him would’ve sent waves of unbearable anxiety rushing over him, drowning him, but this whole thing feels a bit different. Don’t get it twisted, he’s still as anxious as ever clutching his pencil like a lifeline. The difference is that there’s a pleasant kind of flickering deep inside his chest.

“You’re joking…” Tamaki groans and jumps when Mirio slaps his back roughly.

“I knew it!” He makes an enthusiastic ‘whoop’ noise. “I told you that they were into you!”

Nejire clasps her hands together, her flowing mass of hair practically vibrating like the rest of her and her energy. “This is so, so adorable! Look how pink his ears are getting!”

Tamaki doesn’t hesitate to cover his face and hide away from his two well-meaning, but overbearing friends.

His savior comes in the form of a still laughing Mirio. “Hado-san, we’ve got to leave him be before he combusts on the spot.”

Tamaki can’t believe he agreed to this. Well, technically he didn’t have a choice in the matter, but still.

He’s selling t-shirts with his face on them. His face! Why would Fatgum ever think this was a good idea for a fundraiser? It’s horrifying, actually. People have already purchased some and he still can’t fathom it as an actual thing. Why would anyone want that?

And then everything goes into overdrive when they walk up to his stand, practically skipping with a winning smile.

He can’t help but gawk at them.

“What?” They tilt their head, an easy laugh masking any possibility of them being as flustered as him.

“I’m a huge fan of Suneater.”

Their lips are soft and lush when they brush against Tamaki’s burning cheek. He feels so warm, the closest thing that he can compare the feeling to is the sensation of when you dip into a steaming bubble bath. They’re just so close to him and he swears he can hear their heart beating as hard as his.

They pull away, lashes touching their cheekbones and exhaling deeping. Their hand still grips his forearm before that touch leaves him too.

“Bye… Tamaki.” His first name seems to hesitantly seep out and he feels like he’s floating. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s such a good feeling that he can’t even get himself to pay attention to his shock.

“See you tomorrow.”

This is long overdue and Tamaki knows it.

Mirio and Nejire’s encouragement plus his own common sense is pushing him to ask them out right now. It’s just odd that they haven’t done it first already. They were the ones initiating everything, after all. He guesses they’ve just left that up to him for whatever reason.

He’s going to rise to that occasion. He has to.

“I wanted to ask…”

He pauses, taking a deep breath to steady himself. They nod at him to continue. Their smile is gentle, equivalent to a fluffy blanket. Their eyes are sparkling, so glittering and alive. Their hands look soft, tempting to take and squeeze in his own.

“... D-Do you want to go out with me?”

Tamaki glups heavily and forces himself to watch for their reaction.

Those lively eyes go wide and honeyed lips part slightly. Their gaze swiftly falls to the ground and Tamaki’s heart takes a huge drop from several stories. It feels like it’s getting harder to breathe…

Suddenly, they move forward, wrapping their arms around his middle. Their face buries into the crook of his neck. He shivers and embracing them back when he hears, and feels, the words whispered against his exposed skin.

“I would love to.”

────────────────────────

#bnha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha requests #tamaki amajiki x y/n #tamaki amajiki x you #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki #mha tamaki #tamaki x y/n #tamaki x reader #tamaki headcanons #bnha tamaki #tamaki fluff #amajiki x y/n #amajiki headcanons #amajiki x you #bnha amajiki

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5uptic · 3 years ago

Text

crewfu: fanfic spotlight!

We work together by Anonymous (5up & DK, unrated, gen | 248 words)

Summary: One likes plants and baking, the other loves to create and design video games. They stay up and create monstrosities together, it's their fun, it's their favourite game. Aka a 5up and Dk roommate au!

No matter how life tangles, I’m still here with you. by hungryandsleepy (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 279 words)

Summary: 5up has been working so hard on his new map, and of course, he needs someone to give him a motivation to go to sleep.

objectively pretty by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 462 words)

Summary: steve is drunk. he's pretty sure 5up is too. that doesn't mean being called pretty is any less momentuous.

you plus me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 489 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve meet.

he said to me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 656 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve share a moment.

by the snowmen by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 670 words)

Summary: Steve has a moment when it's all over.

today you got to know me (a little bit too slowly) by runninohhoney (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: Steve lights up a cigarette. 5up doesn't smoke.

what would it take by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 787 words)

Summary: It's Steve's first mission. He hecks up. Or does he?

sorta cute by floweruru (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 822 words)

Summary: ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘That’s just disrespectful,’ he said. Yet there was 5up, crushed like a can in Steve’s embrace, feebly kicking at nothing as his feet leave the pavement.

i was gonna kill u, but ur kinda cute?? by Cthulhuer (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas DumbDog: No? I do too. stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight

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scuttling · 4 years ago

Text

Birthday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 2,648 Tags: SFW, Pre-relationship, Drinking, Pre-relationship minor Morgan/Garcia Summary: The team goes out for Sophie's 30th birthday. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! “Time for another shot?” Prentiss asks, dropping two handfuls of glasses onto the table in front of them, and Sophie laughs, shaking her head indulgently.

“No more shots, Em. I’m already feeling the last two.” Her cheeks are slightly flushed, corroborating her comment, but she’s still standing steadily, so she can’t be too far gone.

“Come on, it’s your birthday!” The rest of the team joins in with a chorus of similar comments, but Hotch just smiles at their happiness and lets them battle it out amongst themselves.

“You only turn 30 once, you know,” Morgan reminds her, a hand casually thrown over her shoulder, and Reid frowns.

“You only turn every age once; what’s the significance of 30?”

“All he’s saying, Reid,” Garcia chimes in, taking a sip of her pink, fruity drink, “is that every year older is a chance to celebrate. Especially in this line of work.” Sophie sighs, clearly giving in to her friends’ methods, and she walks two fingers forward, to a full shot glass.

“Fine, fine: I will drink one more shot…” she begins, pausing as is for dramatic effect, “if someone gets me cheese fries.”

“I’ll buy the birthday girl some cheese fries,” Reid offers, and she pulls him down by the arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which earns howls from the team and a blush from Reid, and then she takes the shot.

“I’m hungry too, Spence, I’ll come with you,” JJ adds. “Anyone want anything?” Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss rattle off orders, and Hotch takes a sip of his beer, doesn't notice that Sophie has made her way toward him until he gets a whiff of her perfume.

“Not hungry?” she asks, leaning against the table and facing him. She looks very beautiful in a short, silky orange dress, leather jacket thrown over her shoulders, and he lets his gaze linger for a moment.

“No, I think I’m going to call it a night.” He has reports that need to be reviewed, documents that need to be signed, and though he’s enjoying watching his team on a rare night out, he can’t help but feel old and out of place—especially as she celebrates her 30th birthday, for god’s sake. He can’t even remember his 30th birthday.

“Oh Hotch, you can’t.” She sets a hand on his arm, gently, looks up into his eyes with a clear gaze. “I know I don’t like to make a big deal of my birthday, but I’ll happily play that card with you if it will get you to stay.” Her eyes are sweet, and they look wide, almost pleading—it’s a puppy dog look by anyone’s standards, and it turns out he’s helpless against it.

“Okay, I’ll stay a little longer if it means that much to you,” he agrees, teasing a little, but her reply seems serious.

“It really does.” She smiles softly, then removes her hand from his arm, almost like she forgot that she put it there. “I’ll even share my cheese fries with you.”

She makes good on the promise, thanking Reid profusely for the gift and then running a knife through them so they make for smaller bites. She lifts her fork, takes two or three bites, and sets it down, handle pointing in his direction; he’s really not that hungry, but the way she shares with him is so effortless that it feels like an offering he shouldn’t refuse.

Later, Morgan and Garcia are dancing, Prentiss is talking to a woman she knows from the office, and Reid is making conversation with someone at table over, when Sophie takes her last bite of fries.

“They’re still not together, right?” she asks, pointing her fork at Morgan and Garcia, and Hotch shakes his head.

“As far as I know, no.”

“Same here,” JJ pipes up from across the table, nursing her drink. “And you know I’d know; I know everything.” Sophie laughs, sips her beer. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a shame, I guess; two people who are so drawn together shouldn’t fight so hard to stay apart.” JJ gives Hotch a quick glance, which he can’t interpret, then looks back down at her half-eaten plate of fried pickles, picking at the crumbs.

“I don’t get it either. If the FBI doesn’t care, why do they?” Sophie sighs, looking back at the laughing, dancing couple, props her chin up with her hand.

“They don’t think they deserve it.” When he and JJ both look toward her—the sound of her voice is almost sad, unusual for a night like tonight—she straightens, downs the last of her drink. “I assume that’s why, I mean.” JJ gives him another brief look, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s almost 2 AM when the party breaks up, much later than he intended to stay out, but he’s happy he did. Sophie isn’t drunk, he doesn’t think, but she’s much tipsier than she was hours ago, before the cheese fries—and she’s really adorable.

“I love you guys so much,” she tells them all as they put on their coats. “I love you, Spencer, for buying me cheese fries, thank you buddy.” She wraps her arms around him, almost dangling from his neck, and he laughs, squeezes her tight.

“I love you too, buddy, you’re welcome.” She moves to Garcia next, hugs her tight around the waist.

“I love you, Pen. I love my card and your smile and I love coming into your cave for candy when Morgan gets on my nerves.” They laugh and Morgan acts affronted, which only makes them laugh more.

“I love you too, birthday babe.”

“I love you Morgan,” she begins, pulling him into a one-armed embrace, “even though you annoy me sometimes, ‘cause we’re Chicago twins and we both like the Cubs and we both know the best pizza is from Tony’s on 4th Avenue.”

“You know it, girl. I love you too.”

“JJ,” Sophie calls, drawing out the last letter, and they hug each other equally tight. “I love you ‘cause you’re the coolest one of us; I don’t make the rules,” she tacks on when the rest of the group scoffs. “She’s super cool and you guys know it.”

“I love you, especially when you’re drunk,” JJ tells her with a laugh. “Should have made you eat more than half a plate of cheese fries.”

“It’s not your fault, I blame Emily Prentiss,” she says, accusatorily, turning to the woman in question and giving her a hug, which Prentiss returns with a pat. “I love you even though you kept handing me drinks all night. You’re a bad influence.”

“Then I guess I succeeded,” she says with an affectionate smile. “I love you, birthday girl. I’m glad you had a good time.” They separate, and when Sophie turns to Hotch, the last in line, her face changes. Her expression isn’t one of awkwardness or irritation, but… almost like resignation, and he can’t exactly tell what that means.

She smiles softly, quirking her lip as if asking if it’s okay to proceed, and he opens his arms, tries not to smile when she sags against him as if, of all the hugs she’s received tonight, this is the one she wanted most.

“I love you, Hotch,” she says so quietly he has to strain to hear, and he moves his hand carefully over her back.

“I love you too.” They stay like that for a good twenty seconds, and when she pulls back, she smiles sheepishly.

“Okay, you guys have stayed out long enough because of me. I’ve gotta order my Uber.” Morgan and Prentiss both insist they can drop her off, talking over each other, and he decides to spare them both, speaks in his unit chief voice for the only time that night.

“You guys focus on getting each other home; I’ll get her home.” Everyone agrees easily, Sophie included, and they are walking out to the parking lot before she speaks again—not exactly slurred, but a bit slower than normal.

“How are you still so... Hotch-y? You had as much to drink as I did.”

“I’ve probably got 75 pounds on you, so I metabolized it faster, I guess,” he answers with a chuckle, steering her to his SUV, and something about that makes her groan.

“Oh, I know... all about that.” He comes around to the passenger side to open the door for her, and for a moment she just looks up at him, slowly wets her lips. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She slips into the car, buckles up, and he closes the door with a sigh.

In a perfect world, this would be him taking her home from a date, maybe kissing her goodnight on her doorstep… But the world is as imperfect as she isn’t, and his little crush is both inappropriate and foolish, so he resigns himself to his role and vows to get her home safely, and nothing more.

They arrive outside of her apartment building after about fifteen minutes of softly murmured directions, and he puts the car into park, turns to look at her.

“Do you want me to come up with you?” he asks, and she smiles softly, tiredly.

“Yes, but no. I’ll be okay.” The look on her face is sweet, almost tender, and he keeps himself from reading too much into it. That way lies madness, he knows.

“It’s no trouble. It would make me feel better, to know you made it safely.” Her smile gets brighter, and she sits up, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Okay, sure. Thanks. I could make you a cup of coffee for the road, if you’d like.” He nods, and they both climb out of the car, heading toward the front door of her apartment. He keeps his hands near her, ready to catch her if she wobbles, but she is steady on her feet even in the skinny heels she wears.

She unlocks the front door, then takes him up a couple of flights of stairs, stopping outside apartment number 12. Her keys turn easily in the locks, the door swinging open to display a very clean, very white apartment. “Thanks for coming up with me. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it,” she tells him, hanging up her jacket on the hook behind the door.

“I wanted to,” he tells her, honestly, a little distracted by her bare shoulders, the slim straps that rest on them. She looks back, and if he’s caught staring, she doesn’t mention it. She leans her butt against the wall, reaching down to unclasp the buckle on her shoe, and for the first time, her balance isn’t perfect; she wobbles a little, and his hands catch her waist to steady her.

“Do you need help getting your shoes off?” he asks, looking down into her eyes, and hers are warm, liquid as she stares back. Her tongue sweeps over her bottom lip, and if it were any other woman, he would take that as an invitation to lean in and kiss her. Instead, he drops to one knee and unbuckles her shoe, slides it off carefully, repeats that with the other foot. He sets the shoes on the shoe rack by the door, stands back up to full height, touches her arm gently.

“Thanks, Hotch.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and it looks like she wants to say more, but the silence goes on too long, and she eventually clears her throat. “Do you want that cup of coffee?”

“Sure. Please.” She pads into the kitchen, which is, like the rest of the apartment, sparkling clean and gleaming white, switches on the coffee maker, and pulls a travel mug down from the cupboard overhead. “I like your apartment. It’s very… clean.” She turns, back against the counter, and smiles.

“I don’t like to leave a mess, since we never know where we’re going to be.”

“It’s a little bare,” he says gently, trying not to profile too much, and she looks down like she’s self-conscious.

“You know I’m private. I like to keep my photos and stuff in the bedroom.” She walks past him, down the hallway, looks over her shoulder and signals for him to follow.

Her bedroom is still very white—white comforter, white sheets, white pillows—but her dresser, headboard, and end tables are made of wood, and the dresser is littered with silver picture frames.

One is of Sophie and a young man who resembles her so much, it must be her brother. One is of the two of them with a pair of adults, their parents, probably. One is of Sophie with a young man and woman who look like they could be twins, another of Sophie and the man he knows is her previous partner back in Chicago.

There’s one of her SWAT squad, Sophie in the middle with a big smile and an even bigger gun. Then there’s one of the BAU team, from a get-together Garcia hosted; he remembers her apartment looking like a craft store threw up there, every bright color and pattern you could imagine, and he remembers Sophie’s face when she saw it, called it gorgeous and fitting and very Penelope.

Would he consider this apartment very Sophie? This room, maybe, but that’s about it.

“I love these. Especially this one,” he says, holding up the photo of the SWAT team. “We need to take you to an outdoor range one day, so you can blow Morgan’s mind.” She laughs, light and airy, moves closer so she’s looking at the photo with him.

“That’s a great idea. He’s seen my special tactics, now for my special weapons.” She touches the photo of her with her brother, picks it up to show him. “This is my brother, Leo—before he became a constantly high competitive surfer in San Diego.”

“Do you see him often?” Her face falls, and she sets the photo back down with a sigh.

“I haven’t seen him in about a year. He doesn’t agree with my lifestyle, calls me a government pawn.”

“He doesn’t agree with your lifestyle?” he asks, a little surprised, considering his habits, but she just nods.

“Yeah, he’s very ‘go with the flow’, finds me morally rigid. Thinks I’m not doing work that needs to be done, as if our job is less important than surfing.” He laughs, and she laughs with him, bumps playfully against his arm. “You should feel special, you know. No one else has seen my photos.”

“No one at all?” That can’t be right, she’s had people in her bedroom, certainly…

“Nope. I don’t date often, you know. And I one-night-stand even less than I date, so. No one has had the chance.” It makes him sad, generally, that she keeps her photos so guarded, that she doesn’t share them—he’s happy, though, to know she doesn’t have men in and out of her bedroom, as if that matters when he knows nothing will ever happen between them.

“You have to give someone the chance,” he says, pulling her in for an easy, one-armed hug and pressing his lips to the top of her head. He’s not sure why he does it, but it feels so right he doesn’t really question it.

“I know,” she says quietly, wrapping her arm around his waist, too, and leaning against his shoulder. “I just want it to be the right someone.” She looks up at him, so soft and beautiful in just her slip of a dress, feet bare, that his chest aches with the urge to kiss her.

He doesn’t, of course, and never will, and the moment eventually passes, their eye contact breaks. “I should make that coffee,” she murmurs, pulling away, and tries not to feel too bad about the loss.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x original female character #criminal minds fanfic

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anxiousstark · 4 years ago

Text

S3 01 | Tattoo

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 1871

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, murder, dead body, swearing (always).

A/N: SEASON 3 HERE WE COME! Double update this week!

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

Summer was the greatest thing that happened to us, and without any doubt, the best thing that had happened to me since I arrived at Beacon Hills. Our summer was full of peace, which is what we needed. No creatures were trying to kill us or other people. We were safe, and even though we couldn't avoid being a little apprehensive, we knew that we were finally safe.

Scott, Melissa and I were able to sit down together, explaining to her everything that had happened. We were terrified because it wasn't easy to explain to someone you loved that danger followed you. After all, we weren't humans anymore. That night we told her everything. Melissa got teary, feeling guilty for not being able to help or do anything for us. We told her that we were fine, we would be fine.

During this peaceful holiday, I was able to get closer to both boys. Scott and I didn't throw ourselves at each other's throats. Of course, there was a long way to walk. We still needed to get used to everything. The hazel-eyed boy and I developed a new habit during summer, whenever we felt anxious we seemed to notice, bodies being attracted to each other, hands interlocking, hoping to give the comfort we sought. Holding hands became a soothing gesture between us. We did it unconsciously.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles grabbed a folder, holding it up, showing it to the other boy. I walked closer to him, excited to see what was he holding, knowing Stiles, something that would make me snicker. "Too soon? Yeah." Of course, I snickered when I noticed that he was showing Scott the drawing of a beast that looked like the Kanima. Melissa allowed him to get a tattoo.

For what we got to know, Matt was dead. We still weren't sure what that would mean for Jackson. But we had promised ourselves that we wouldn't get into supernatural trouble during summertime. However, tomorrow was our first day back to class, which meant that the supernatural would come back to form part of our lives.

"I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?" I walked around the room, admiring the drawings decorating the walls.

"I'm not changing my mind." Scott and I got closer especially at night. One night I woke up after having a nightmare where I saw my mother. It seemed like the other McCall was also having a nightmare, which ended in both of us, sleeping on his bed, and talking about the stuff that worried us. That night Scott McCall cried, he missed Allion, but he couldn't ignore everything that had happened.

"Okay, but why two bands?"

Scott shrugged, stating that he just liked it. "But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something."

Stiles had a small grin on his face, ready to inform Scott that wasn't the point. But the tattoo artist interrupted him. "He's right, tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark.' Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it."

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally."

"Okay, you ready? You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope." Scott offered me a smile, ready to get the tattoo he has been asking for so long.

The boy standing next to me scratched his chin. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..." There was no time to analyze the situation. Stiles was lying on the floor, an uncomfortable posture making the circumstances even funnier.

I sat on the passenger seat on Stiles's Jeep. Scott had bought a bike with the money he had gained while working for Deaton in the clinic. So now, every day, I was driven to class by the hazel-eyed boy.

"Don't you think it was strange?" He asked me again as I spaced out. "It seems like something supernatural to me. Exactly when we go back to class." After Scott's tattoo, we were ready to go home and have dinner together. My half-brother's happiness due to the tattoo didn't last for long as an excruciating pain made him take the bandages off, realizing the tattoo had disappeared. Maybe we should have taken into account that he was a werewolf, and he healed faster. A tattoo was an open wound.

On our way home, we saw Lydia's car, and not to anyone's surprise, she was with Allison. A deer hit the front of their car, making us run to them to check if they were hurt. Scott was convinced that the deer was terrified.

"I suppose, Stiles." I sighed, running my hands through my hair.

"Hey," He glanced at me for a second, quickly looking back to the road ahead of him. "You alright?" His hand ended up resting on top of my hand, which was resting on my thigh.

"I feel like so many bad things are going to happen again." I lamented. "We still don't know anything about me. There are obstacles everywhere."

"I told you. We will find answers, okay?" He squeezed my hand. To be honest, some nights during summer were spent searching for every scaly creature that exists in the supernatural world. But without knowing what I could do, we couldn't conclude anything. When we arrived at school, we walked directly to our classroom.

Stiles and I glanced at each other when only a couple of minutes into the lecture, Scott had to leave class. My mind went to the worst scenario case, thinking that maybe Melissa was in danger. Stilisnki seemed to notice my change of behaviour, extending his hand, offering me to grab it. I did.

He rested back on his chair, sighing, tired from doing whatever the teacher has ordered us to do. "Hey, Lydia. What is that?" When I followed his gaze, I noticed a bandage around the pretty strawberry blonde girl's ankle. "Is that from the accident?"

"No. Prada bit me."

"Your dog?" I asked. Stiles's other hand extended forward, forbidding me from biting my pen, a nervous habit I didn't notice I was doing.

"No, my designer handbag. Yes, my dog." She replied as if I was stupid, which made me grumble a little while Stiles smiled at my reaction.

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head. "Okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just... maybe it means something's coming. Something bad." Stiles was completely right. Something was wrong, I felt it.

"It was a deer and a dog. What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice..." Her words were interrupted when something hit the window, leaving a trail of blood. Every student was interrupted form their concentration, glancing at the window. Jennifer, our teacher, walked towards it. Crows, so many crows were coming towards us. Another one hit the window, and then another, and another.

"S-Stiles..." I whispered, my hand rapidly clutching his shirt between my fingers. The windows couldn't resist so many crows hitting it. They ended up being shattered, thousand of crows getting inside the classroom.

I quickly grabbed Lydia as she seemed to be shocked enough to react, covering her head with my arms. I felt someone doing the same thing for me. Stiles's back pressed tightly against mine, the inside of his thighs pressed against the outside of mines. His arms covering my face after he saw that I was hit by a couple of enraged crows.

Of course, the cops had been called. They were now asking around, trying to understand what was going on. However, this was something out of their reach.

"You alright?" Stiles's hands grabbed my cheeks, lightly moving my head from side to side, making sure that there wasn't any wound or scratch.

"You?" My fingers grasped a feather that seemed to be stuck in his hair, pulling it out. He nodded, sighing in relief, taking me into his arms. That is another habit we had developed during the summer.

"Guys," Mr. Stilisnki came closer to us, his eyes focusing on our intertwined hands. "No more class for today, okay?" He offered us a smile. "Go back home, alright? Make sure you guys are in a safe place." We both nodded.

"Yeah, I see it. It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's just something I traced with my fingers."

"Why is this so important to you? Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?"

"To mark something." Stiles crossed his arms while letting Derek know as if he didn't know already. He looked so proud of himself.

"Well, that's in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means 'open wound'. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned 18. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

"For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes. I was trying to give her the space she wants. Goin' four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a, uh..."

"Like an open wound." Stiles finished for him. I sniffed, wiping my wet cheeks. I could feel a pair of eyes on me. "Wait, are you crying?"

I sobbed even harder when the boy standing next to me noticed that I was weeping. "I don't know why," I continued cleaning my face. "I just got emotional." The three boys grinned, Stiles embracing me while softly laughing.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt." Derek let him know, but that wasn't going to scare Scott.

Fire. He was going to burn Scott. "Oh, wow. That's a... that's a lot for me. So I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just gonna wait outside." He tried to leave, and I tried to follow him, but Derek wasn't having any of it when he got up, grabbing us from the back of our shirts, and telling us to hold Scott down.

When we were leaving Derek's house after holding Scott down, who cried loudly, until he passed out. The McCall boy couldn't help but grin and be excited about his first tattoo.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now." Stiles examined it, hands deep down in his pockets.

"Yeah. I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happened to us... everything just changes so fast." I sighed, linking my arms with both boys, who offered me a smile. "Everything's so, uh... Ephemeral."

"Studying for the psats?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

Scott opened the front door, but rare enough, he examined it while rubbing his fingers against the wood. "You painted the door. Why'd you paint the door?" He asked, looking back at Derek.

"Go home, Scott."

"Hey," I intervened. Scott's breath got quicker, scratching the paint off the door. "What is going on, Scott?" There was a symbol on the door.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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wisdom-walks-alone · 4 years ago

Text

"It all just feels like too much, all the time." Damian rests his cheek on his knees, hugging his legs with one arm and picking the pills off the couch cushion with his free hand. "I just want to go back to not feeling anything at all."

"That's totally understandable. When you're feeling overwhelmed, it's normal to just want everything to go away. But feeling can be a good thing. It means that you're alive."

Damian huffs. "What if I don't want to be alive?" He pauses, as does Dinah's writing. "That came out wrong. I don't want to die or anything, and it's not like I'm too eager to go back to Hell."

Dinah adjusts herself in her seat, leaning forward a little. "And what makes you so sure you'd go to Hell?"

Something in Damian's body tenses, but he doesn't let it show. What, you think you're a bad person? Boohoo, you're not, so suck it up already.

He shrugs. Dinah doesn't push. It's one of the things he likes about her.

He doesn't have to hide anything from her. Not in the secret identities and sketchy backgrounds kind of way. She knows his past and she knows his present. She knows them probably better than anyone. Yet there are things that he still can't bring himself to admit. There's something about saying things out loud that make them real, and then you have to face them. To bare your feelings to one person is to bare them to the whole world. Damian's seen a lot of things in his life and still nothing terrifies him as much as that.

And sometimes it just sounds so ridiculous. And he feels ridiculous saying it. He's embarrassed, and isn't that just the icing on the cake?

But Dinah never judges. He knows she won't ever judge him. But he's still always afraid to say it.

He can run straight into the line of fire and jump off a hundred-story buildings, but he's still a fucking coward.

Dinah would tell him otherwise. That's why he doesn't say it out loud.

"How are your brothers?" Dinah asks.

Grateful for the change of subject, Damian briefly glances up at her. "Jason's a dick, as always. Dick isn't a dick. Tim is also a dick, but not in the same way that Jason is. I think on some level he kind of understands." He turns his head, hugging his legs tighter. "He's…trying. They all are."

"It's nice that they're trying," Dinah says. "And your father?"

Damian bites his cheek. "He's trying, too. I know he is." He has to remind himself of it sometimes, and sometimes it's hard to believe. "But it's…hard. For him."

"How so?"

"Just… He wants to understand, and he's trying to, he just…can't. And I don't have the words to help him understand."

Dinah nods sagely. "That must be frustrating."

"Yeah." Damian goes back to picking at the pills on the couch. "It's just—I know he's trying his best. It just feels like his best isn't good enough. And that feels so shitty, because you can't ask for someone to do more than their best."

"You don't have to be sorry for how you feel," Dinah tells him. "Your feelings are real and they're valid. It's completely fair of you to feel like you're not getting what you need."

"I guess."

"You're not selfish for having needs, Damian."

"It's selfish when your needs get in the way of what other people need."

"You're just trying to survive and thrive. There's nothing wrong with that. Your needs are just as important as anyone else's."

“But they’re valid, too,” Damian insists. “They’re valid in what they’re doing, how can I be upset with them for that?”

“You aren’t responsible for how other people make you feel, Damian.”

Damian doesn't reply to that. He looks away.

Dinah sits up, leaning forward in her seat. "You're a good person, Damian. You're not a bad person for having these feelings, and you shouldn't feel guilty for having them either. Instead, try being proud of yourself for recognizing that what you want might not be something you should act on."

Damian scoffs. "I have enough pride."

"Then you have plenty to spare."

Damian looks at her, deadpan. Dinah remains unwavering. Finally, he lets out a disgruntled sigh. "I guess."

Dinah smirks at her victory, tapping the back end of her pen absently on her notepad. A moment passes, then she asks, “How’s school?” Damian gives her a look, as if she even needs to ask to know that it sucks absolute balls. She just raises an eyebrow in challenge, and Damian huffs as he relents.

“Honestly, it’s been kind of hard. I can understand everything easily enough, but concentrating and keeping up with the work are difficult. Getting to and staying in school is hard, too. Father’s worried about my grades, so he’s been on top of me more about all that stuff.” He scoffs. “I know he’s right, but it just feels overbearing and all around frustrating, and it really just makes me want to do work and go to school less.”

“You have always had an opposition to authority,” Dinah remarks sagely. “You don’t like being told what to do.”

Damian squirms. He knows she’s right. It’s not something he’s ever been ignorant to, in fact he usually embraces this trait of his. He just feels weird about it in this particular situation.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Of course I have,” Damian shoots back. “He never listens.”

Dinah nods. “Communication is hard. Your father has never been good at that. Stubborn as ever, he is.”

“Tell me about it. Every time I try to tell him how frustrating it is he just goes on his spiel about how it’s just because he cares about me and is worried for my future. It’s not like I couldn’t just forge any degree I want to get a job if I wanted to.”

“But your father has more integrity than that,” Dinah points out. “And so do you.” A pause. “Would you rather he not care at all?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Damian purses his lips. “Well…maybe just for this one thing… I don’t know, it just feels like it’d be easier sometimes. If he didn’t care. Stopped getting in my way.”

“You don’t want him to stop caring about you, though.”

“If he really cares about me then maybe he should listen to what I have to say.”

Dinah nods. “I agree. But it’s not always that simple.”

“I know.” A silence lulls over them, and Damian squirms a bit as he tries to grasp for something to fill it with. “I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed lately, but there isn’t really anything to be overwhelmed about. Every time I have a mental break there’s just a bigger mental break.”

“We all have a different threshold for what we can handle,” Dinah tells him, “and we all have different ways of dealing with things. What you’re overwhelmed by just might not be apparent.” She pauses, then adds, “Have you talked to anyone else about how you’ve been feeling? Your friends, your brothers, your sister?”

“I feel like I do that enough here.”

Dinah smiles sadly. “I will always be here for you, Damian, gladly, but you need other people outside of me and these sessions.” Damian folds his arms over his chest, a pout forming. “Can you try to think of someone you can go to?”

Damian thinks for a second. “I could talk to Cass.” He smiles a little. “She’s a good listener.”

“That’s good,” Dinah says. “That’s a good place to start. Is there anyone else? You have to have more than just one person.”

Damian’s eyebrows knit and he draws his knees closer to his chin. He shrugs.

“I know it’s scary, relying on people, but it’s something that’s necessary to live a healthy life. And you deserve to have people you can rely on when you need to, and not just out on the streets. You deserve to not be alone.”

Damian shifts, hides his face in his arms to hide the tears that escape at her words. He wipes them on his sleeves as he looks up. “There’s Dick. I think I can talk to Dick. Yeah, I can do that.”

Dinah smiles. “Good. You deserve to have a good support system, and you know I’ll always be part of it too.”

Damian glances up at her face briefly. “I know.”

Dinah smiles again as she glances at the clock. “It looks like we’re out of time for today. It was good talking to you, Damian.”

Damian sits up, putting his feet back on the floor. “You, too. Thank you,” he says, standing up.

“Of course. I’ll see you next week.”

“Yeah, see you next week.”

#tw mental health #my fics #jay writes #dc #dc comics #damian wayne #dinah lance #vent fic #damian kinnie writes about damian going to therapy

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mimosaeyes · 4 years ago

Text

This is a dream, then. A fantasy conjured by the last firing of his synapses in the moment before death. Martin silently thanks his subconscious for it. He’s never had faith the way his mother did, but if there is a heaven for him, he’s quite sure it would have Jon in it.

Post-200. Jon and Martin wake up somewhere else. 2.2k, fix-it but not really.

In case this turns out to be the last fic I finish in this fandom, I want to especially thank my beta @emberidzae for introducing me to TMA. Or, at least, for talking about it enough in my general proximity that eventually I got curious.

Someone is cradling Martin’s head on their lap, and running their fingers through his hair. Jon, he thinks absently. He’d know him anywhere, even by such tiny details as the shape of his calluses where he grips a pen, and the texture of his burn-scarred skin.

But that can’t be right. Jon is dead. He’d killed him in the Panopticon, hands shaking until the instant before the knife had plunged in. The only way he could force himself to do it was to make it as quick and painless as possible. He couldn’t falter and draw out Jon’s suffering, not when it was already such a torment to hear him groan and scream as the building began to crumble around them. Or to see the look in his eyes, the utter trust and love warring against the Beholding’s hold on him.

He breathes, even and steady like he’s trying to fall more deeply asleep. If these are his last seconds of awareness, he wants to spend them just like this.

Then he hears Jon quietly ask, “Are you awake?”

Martin opens his eyes. Jon is peering down at him, his expression tender and tentative. In the weak sunlight, he looks washed out, his features rendered nearly in greyscale. There’s no trace of the bright red from when Martin had lifted a bloody hand to cup his face. The only indication of everything that’s happened is a faint mistiness about Jon’s eyes.

Furrowing his brow, Martin reaches up and touches his cheek. It’s wet; he leaves behind a fine dusting of black sand that has stuck to his fingers. “Are you crying?” he murmurs, almost confused. Surely, if this is all in his imagination, he’d have made Jon happy.

Jon surprises him with a soft laugh. “Tears of relief, Martin. Look around.”

Reluctantly, still half-convinced none of this is really happening, Martin rolls to one side and sits up. Jon scoots over a little for him, even though there’s plenty of space. The shore is completely deserted apart from them, and silent but for the gently lapping water.

“Is this...?”

At Martin’s questioning look, a smile slowly spreads across Jon’s face. It’s a complicated one, balanced between joy and disbelief, sadness and resignation. “Somewhere else,” he affirms.

“But I—” Martin stares at Jon. There’s no blood on him, no wound; only a tell-tale rip in his shirt where the knife had gone in. “I killed you.”

“I told you to,” Jon objects. His hands come up as if to touch Martin, who rocks back on his haunches.

“I killed you,” he repeats, this time in a whisper.

Jon watches him for a moment. His shoulders lift in a helpless sort of shrug. “Or maybe,” he says, “you killed everything that wasn’t me. Everything tethering them there.”

Martin can feel tears welling up in his eyes. He’s shaking his head slowly, but he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he can deny the physical fact of Jon, here with him, miraculously unharmed and apparently, entirely human. It’s not like he wants to, either. He just hadn’t been expecting to wake up again — in a world he may have helped to doom, next to a boyfriend he was supposed to have died with.

It’s a lot to process.

A single sob escapes Martin, and at once Jon is hushing him, almost vaulting forward in his rush to pull him into a hug. They meet awkwardly halfway, in a tangle of clumsy limbs and warmth.

With Jon’s arms around him, Martin lets himself just cry for a while.

It feels long overdue. The back of Martin’s throat has felt tight and strained since the moment he woke up to find Jon gone. He’d rushed to find Georgie, Melanie, and Basira, and then he’d rushed up the countless flights of stairs in the Panopticon, not daring to stop and catch his breath for fear he’d be too late. He was, anyway, and the moment Jon had turned around to face him, voice crackling with static and eyes illuminated as if from within, it had all come crashing over Martin: Jon had left him behind after all. He’d broken his promise, been so willing to die in some perverse kind of atonement that he hadn’t even waited to say goodbye.

Martin hardly dares to believe he’s here now, rubbing soothing circles over his back and murmuring, “It’s okay. Shh. I’ve got you.”

It takes some time, but eventually Martin subsides. The trembling stops and his breathing slows. Mildly embarrassed, he pulls back from the embrace. “Don’t ever,” he says wetly, poking Jon in the chest, “do that to me again.”

“I won’t,” Jon says softly. He waits until Martin has settled back on the sand, then takes his hand and interlaces their fingers.

For a while, they both stare out at the water, the way the seafoam stands out against the dark beach.

“Any idea where this is?” Martin asks.

Jon shakes his head. “I think Iceland has black sand beaches, but... you know. That’s back in our reality.”

Martin lets out a long breath. “It worked, then.” His voice is muted with weariness. “We saved the world.”

“And doomed every other one.” Without letting go of Martin’s hand, Jon pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them.

“Not everything is your fault, Jon. We all agreed on the plan.”

He waits, but Jon gives no sign of having even heard the words. He watches him for a long moment, biting his lip. Then he clambers to his feet and pulls on their linked hands. “Come on.”

Jon blinks up at him. “Where are we going?”

“On a walk,” Martin tells him.

The beach looks the same in either direction, and a steep wall of volcanic rock prevents them from going farther inland. Undaunted, Martin starts off towards the left. Jon follows, possibly from force of habit. They’d gone on many such walks together, in the halcyon days at the safehouse before the world ended.

Normally, Martin would point things out as they passed them by — good cows being a bonus, of course — but this place seems eerily devoid of life. There aren’t even any seashells or bits of driftwood. The air is still. The fog sits in heavy reams.

He’s just wondering if he should bring it up when Jon abruptly starts talking. He’d given one last statement, he admits, up in the Panopticon before Martin arrived. Becoming the pupil of the Eye had given him answers, at long last, about how the entities came to be.

Jon’s train of thought is uncertain, and he frowns a lot as he rambles. Sometimes he stops and gazes out across the water, the look in his eyes vacant. It’s probably just a side effect of his being ripped away from the Ceaseless Watcher, Martin tells himself. Probably.

“We created monsters,” Jon says at last, “and then I set them loose on the whole universe.” He stops walking and hunches his shoulders. “What does that make me?”

Martin closes his eyes for a moment. “Jonathan Sims, you are not a monster.”

Beside him, Jon’s breathing goes shaky. “But I told you—”

“That I wouldn’t want to see what was left of you?” Martin interrupts. He hasn’t forgotten the desperate look on Jon’s face in that moment, when he’d first refused to leave him. “I’m looking at you right now, Jon, and you know what I see?”

Illogically, he’s almost angry at him; that’s how frustrated he is that the man he loves cannot seem to stop blaming himself for everything. “I see someone who has given everything to make things right. Who chose kindness, even though he’d been marked and manipulated. Even though he kept getting kidnapped and hunted and hurt and — and used.”

Jon is staring at him now, wide-eyed. Martin thinks about the way he’d looked in what he thought were their last moments together. Beautiful and beatific. He touches two fingers to Jon’s chin, tilting it up. “It’s not monstrous to protect the people you love,” he says. “It’s human.”

With his free hand, Jon swipes at a tear that’s running down his cheek.

“Okay?” Martin presses, but gently.

Jon sniffs. “Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “that your pep talks can be rather aggressive?”

He’s deflecting, but Martin decides to let him get away with it. He’s pushed hard enough for now. In any case, he thinks his words have hit home, at least to some extent. There’s still guilt in Jon’s eyes, but although it runs deep, Martin thinks it looks a little less sharp.

Pulling back and turning to resume their walk, he says, “They have to be, to get through your thick head.”

A corner of Jon’s lips quirks up. “That sounds like something Basira would say.”

“Is she alright, do you think? And Georgie and Melanie?”

Jon waves a hand. “I’m sure they’re fine. They’re probably putting the world back together already.”

“Probably make it better,” Martin muses. He sighs. “They’ll have their work cut out for them.”

A beat. “And what about us?” Jon asks quietly. “What do we do now?”

They fall silent, each contemplating the question.

If they’ve ended up in the same world as the entities, Martin figures, at some point they’ll probably have to start seeking out organisations like the Magnus Institute, working out who the next Archivist is. And if they somehow stop the apocalypse from happening, it’ll only be for a while. There will always be another attempt to foil.

By some miracle, they’ve made it here. Maybe they’ll be able to build a life together, and enjoy it for a while. But mostly, the future Martin sees stretching ahead of them is just full of more danger and guilt and sacrifice.

Jon must be thinking along the same lines, because he sighs and says, “Do you know what this reminds me of? It’s like I thought the play was over, but it turns out it’s only the intermission.”

“What did you want it to be?”

For the space of several breaths, Jon is silent. “A good epilogue,” he says at last. “I’d like to think we deserve that much.”

Martin swallows past a sudden lump in his throat. There isn’t really anything he can say to that, so instead he gives Jon a little nudge, and keeps walking.

When he next looks up, his eye snags on a shape on the shoreline ahead of them. It’s the first thing they’ve come across since they woke up here and started walking. In tacit agreement, they both wander over to get a closer look.

It’s a small boat, complete with a set of oars. The wood has only the faintest suggestion of brown. It’s been bleached to a light grey, though how long that would have taken, Martin can’t guess.

He clears his throat. “Is anything about all this just a little bit on the nose to you?”

“What?” Jon asks, still peering at the boat. Then: “Oh.”

This looks more like an ocean than a river, Styx or otherwise, but Martin can’t deny that there’s something ethereal about this place. Interstitial. Plus, there’s the otherwise inexplicable fact that Jon’s wound is gone. Honestly, he should have put it together sooner.

He notices Jon watching him then, his head canted and his expression fond. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jon says. “You’re just... taking the possibility that you’re dead very well.”

“So are you,” Martin points out.

Jon shrugs. “I’ve had time to get used to the idea. Besides, you’re here.”

His smile, at that moment, is a brittle thing. Martin finds he has to look away from it.

They never seem to get enough time, do they? The cottage in Scotland. That week at Upton House. And now this. Part of Martin is tempted to try and stay here, in this final pocket of respite. He knows that’s irrational, though.

Maybe this is just a very dramatic-looking beach, and they’ll feel very silly when they wash ashore. Or maybe they’re right. Maybe they’ll get in that boat and... pass on, head towards the light — any one of the phrases people have invented to give shape to the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns.

Either way, Martin realises, they have to find out. And at least they’ll find out together. Subconsciously, he tightens his grip on Jon’s hand.

“What are you thinking?” Jon asks softly.

Martin looks at him for a long moment. “I did want to take you rowing.” Such light words for the weight of what they imply.

“Where you go,” Jon says, “I go.”

Martin smiles. “That’s the deal.”

It takes them a while to get a rhythm going after they push off from the shore. Martin rows, and after a while, to his mild delight, Jon starts singing a sea shanty under his breath, keeping time to the beat of the oars.

And as the shore disappears behind the fog, Martin is surprised to find that colours start to filter back into the world. Pinks and yellows, the likes of which the sky above his head hasn’t contained in so long.

He looks at Jon, who looks back at him and nods.

They meet the sunrise. They leave the world behind.

[also available on AO3 here]

[my TMA fic on AO3]

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #mimofic

28 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 4 years ago

Text

Forgive Me | ksj

Pairing: Actor!Seokjin X CoHost!Reader, actor!au

Genre: angst/fluff

Warning(s): smut, shower sex, oral (f receive), quite handsy, nipple play, mention of infidelity, angst, strong use of language, mention of alcohol, Rated: R

Word Count: 12.9k

Summary: One mistake can change someone’s life in the blink of an eye which is what you will discover after sleeping with the enticing and handsome Kim Seokjin. When an unwanted scandal breaks loose, it can ruin both of your careers as you know it. As Seokjin fights for your forgiveness, you not only learn to forgive him, but you learn to forgive yourself.

- Book One of the BTS Actor Series -

The frigid wind of winter nips your nose the moment you step foot outside. Bundled in many layers of clothing, your black, trench coat being most prominent, you shove your mitten hands in the front pockets, eyes scanning the clear path ahead. Leafless trees decorate the sides of the road sparsely while the grayish hue of the sky sprinkles few snowflakes onto the earth. You’ve never minded the cold weather though some find you insane for it; yet, you quicken your pace, urging for the destination you have in mind: the park. It’s not like you have anything else to do with your life other than writing an article about a film, or a critique on the food you’ve tried, or anything involving your opinion, which you’ve learned to embrace despite the backlash that may come with it.

Your dream, however, is to be in the spotlight, but not in the way others may think. Cameras angling in your direction as you stand alongside the main host- you can see yourself comedically mingling with every celebrity that guest stars the same as the skits you’d help direct or even feature in. Late night hosting has been something you’ve tried dabbling in, though callbacks for any auditions haven’t been received just yet. A warm sigh brushes past your lips at the anxiety you try to suppress. You can’t give up that easily, and you won’t. For now, under a pen name, you’ll remain writing critiques until a definite answer is established.

The slow roll of a car distracts you momentarily bringing a sense of comfort mixed in with prodding footsteps against the sidewalk. You moved to the city to achieve great things which lead you to find the magazine company you currently work for, and even now, with scattered thoughts, you can’t shake the lonely feeling within your chest. Your friends, of whom you left behind, not because you wanted to, but because of this job, you rarely get to visit. The same goes for your parents, which you’ve held a burden of guilt for because you also have not seen them since they helped you move to your vacant apartment.

Continuing down the line of vision, the grass has dimmed greatly since fall. The welcoming sign of the park passes your peripherals, the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes being the only sound you hear other than the gentle breeze. There’s an opening ahead, one that you’ve grown familiar with, where the trees break enough to reveal a glistening lake- one that ripples beneath the cloudy sky- serenading serenity to your soul once you edge closer to it.

Finding a tree, you nestle your shoulder against it whilst folding your arms across your chest, inhaling the crude scent of mud covering the rocks circling the brim of the water. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve traveled here, but with the exhaustion of being cooped up in your apartment, you longed for a different view. Time passes, but how much, you are uncertain; merely being lost in nature is all you’re enchanted by.

“Gorgeous isn’t it?”

A deep voice catches you off guard prompting you to whip your head around to the intruder who plagued your thumping heart. A quiet gasp escapes your mouth with the unexpected unraveling of the most handsome stranger you’ve ever come across. Rendered speechless, your eyes scape the dark jeans covering slim legs that lead to a gray hoodie hanging loosely off broad shoulders to now resting upon the pointed jaw that shines with full, pink lips parted in a side smile. His brown eyes never move their hold upon the soothing lake, and yet, you can’t seem to take your eyes off the way his jet, black hair parts upon his forehead. Attraction seeps within your bones and when he peers down at you- abruptly you avert your stare whilst the burning sensation of a blush dawns your cheeks and chest.

“It is,” you muse, noticing the crisp smell of cologne wafting in your direction, “How often do you come here?” The question rolls off your tongue, yet the curiosity is evident in your tone, especially since you haven’t seen him frequent this area the times that you have.

“Just this past week,” he slides his hands within his pockets, “I just moved here not too long ago,”

“What do you do?” To get a better visual of the fellow, you turn enough to where your back rests against the tree versus your shoulder, him rolling back on his heels while a quick draw of breath is seen within the air.

“I’m an actor,” he wets his lips, “Or, at least trying to be. I have an audition tomorrow morning, actually,” he nods, “But, I do a bit of cooking on the side, too,”

Impressed by his answer, it’s been a while since you’ve done this particular, but you attempt at a subtle flirt, “Well, that’s very dashing I must admit,”

Handsome Fellow chuckles, bowing his head enough to where you notice the reddened tips of his ears, “I’m Kim Seokjin by the way. Some call me Jin,” he offers a large hand, “And, what is your name and what do you do?”

Accepting his handshake, you reply, “I’m [Y/N], a columnist for a magazine company living my best life here in the city,” it takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re still shaking his hand prompting you to awkwardly return your hand into your coat pocket- the red tinge of your cheeks still present.

“Well [Y/N], a columnist for a magazine company living your best life, I am very honored to meet you,” Seokjin slightly bows- something in his eyes mesmerizing you to the point that you refrain from staring into them. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you timidly, “So um,” he begins, “Would you like to take a walk?”

Before you can blink, you’re up against the wall, your legs wrapped around him, one arm on his bare shoulders while the other tangles within his hair.

It hadn’t taken any words.

Especially with the way his brown eyes swept your figure from top to bottom, your teeth grazing your bottom lip nearly flattered by his eloquent smirk. Both of you knew exactly what the other was thinking, your core tightening with the desire to know what it’s like to be with him. Only meeting several hours ago, he’s become impossible to resist- drawing you in almost instantly even with the tempting whiff of his cologne, his aura igniting a lust you haven’t experienced in a long, deprived while.

In one swift motion, his hands rapidly gripped your waist, pinning you against the black railing of his front porch, seizing your lips with his, your hand flying to the back of his head just to clutch soft, frilly tufts of dark hair. The tug brought a low moan to his mouth causing him to press his hips into yours, the feel of his erection nearly bringing you to your knees. Sounds of cars passing by knocked some sense into you, breaking the kiss just for Seokjin to fumble with his keys until he was able to unlock the front door with hardly a straight mind.

Slamming the door shut, Seokjin covered your cheeks with his warm, calloused palms, kissing you once again, the fast pace of his lips making you want to sex him on the spot with the strong fire burning within your heat, but there’s more to him you want to know. More of him you want to see. You helped him shed his sweatshirt, it hit the floor while he nearly ripped your coat off your shoulders, tossing it randomly to the side before he started unbuttoning your blouse- his lips pecking yours ever so softly whilst concentrating on the task at hand- getting you naked, and getting you naked on top of him. It didn’t take long until both your bodies were completely bare- kisses so addicting it’s been painstakingly hard to refrain. That’s when Jin hoisted you in the air, his arms bulging while his hands gripped your thighs- pinioning your back against the cool wall, your legs wrapped around him, one arm on his bare shoulders, the other hand in his hair.

Your soaked entrance rests against his abdomen, clenching along his skin, he groans upon your lips from the continuous actions of your heat relentlessly throbbing- begging for more. “Mmm.” You moan- lips remaining locked while his warmth embraces you. He presses his body tighter to you brushing the tip of his tongue with yours as you grip at his back, your breathing increasing with every movement of his lips. Seokjin twirls around and carries you to his bedroom crashing you on his bed, the covers indent beneath you, instinctively your hands’ grip at the fabric, the material soft between your fingers. The two of you gaze in each other’s eyes, but only for a moment, before he starts kissing you again. His hands slither up your ribcage to palm at your breasts, the ticklish feel of your nipples really drives you insane, him sucking at the smooth skin to leave trails of bruised marks for you to be reminded of when his presence isn’t around. Both of you on your knees at this point, he runs his tongue along your nipples, and without realizing, both your hands are now squeezing his shoulders, the fervor below you feels intense as he continues licking your chest. Moving your arms around his neck, you crave more of his kiss; the paradise of his skin on yours sends a violent shake to your legs, enfolding your thighs to suppress the aching, but only momentarily.

The wild inside you starts coming alive, bringing one hand to stroke his erection, his expression revealing utter ecstasy at how good you feel satisfying him; you sigh seductively into his ear, “I’ve got an idea.” If the two of you aren’t already moving fast enough, the squeaky sound of the shower starting fills you with anticipation. Both of you don’t even wait until the water is warm, Seokjin shuts the glass door then crashes his lips to yours, pinning you against the chilly shower wall- his hand wraps around your wrist, tongues flouncing, the water sweltering as it pours all over your frames. You gaze at the scene in front of you. You thought he was hot before, but with steamy water dripping down his face and through his hair, the attraction has grown immensely. Your craving for him is so strong to the point your body can’t take it.

“I think this is the best idea anyone has ever had.” He breathes, his smile meeting your ear.

“Mmm.” You moan, planting kisses along his neck and jaw then coming back to his mouth- nipping his bottom lip for a tease. “And, don’t worry, by the way, I’m on the pill,”

Desire sparks within his eyes once your hands move to slide along his chest, he follows your lead, slipping onto the ground cautiously, spreading your legs- the water heating your slit sending waves of goosebumps to invade your skin. “Ohhh, Jinnn,” you breathe, the tips of his fingers finding your clit, hastily vibrating to stimulate the bliss within your vaginal walls- you don’t expect him to, but when he lifts your legs- water showering his back, completely drenching his hair, that’s when you feel it. The slippery touch of his tongue sliding plentifully against your core not allowing you one moment to get a hold of yourself. The sensation is one you have yet to experience- intense heat of droplets panging your folds while Seokjin pleasures you with his skilled tongue, your clit pulses- relishing in the feel of his hands gripping your thighs whilst he keeps them raised- flicking his tongue into your walls, moving his fingertips to rub your clit simultaneously. Your climax is coming to its peak, your moans echoing within the shower, growing higher the moment his fingertips graze your nipples tenderly, your limbs violently shaking in response before tensing,

“Oh, shit, I’m about to come- Jin, oh fuck, Ji-” his fingers are relentless as he bites hard on his bottom lip still rubbing profusely upon your sensitive clit- his eyes darkening with the satisfaction of watching you come undone. You raise to stop him when you finally recover, panting through the downpour when you meet his questioning eyes. Smirking deviously, you turn to let his eyes enlarge at the sight of your taunting ass. Teasing him with your clenching core, Seokjin rises to rest his area behind you, bringing the tip of his penis to your entrance, his other hand gliding upon your back, while he releases an anticipated hiss; your palms placed in front of you firmly, the shower drowning out your staggered breaths once he slowly moves into you. “Ahhh,” you sigh in relief at the feel of him finally pushing- starting off slowly, in and out, his hand still spreading along the base of your back while he gradually thrusts, him nearly cumming at the undeniable warmth your heat gives off- your sodden walls coating his erection with each shove.

As the night drives on, you end up back in his bed- him thrusting roughly inside you- the feeling building and building to the point your body tenses. As you finish, so does he. “Mm baby.” You gasp. The pleasure causing both of you to crash side by side. Exhaustion hitting you after a few minutes, to your surprise, you feel his warm hand intertwine his fingers with yours causing you to look over to see him staring at you as if you’re the only girl in the world.

“What?” You manage to say, your breathing beginning to calm. His eyes still fixated on you, Seokjin gives a side grin, and as you wait for him to speak, he doesn’t. Instead, he rests his palm on your cheek, reaches over and gives you the sweetest kiss you have ever felt. It only lasts for a few seconds, but long enough to where you can feel everything. Heart melting, you touch the tip of your nose to his and turn around as he wraps his arms around you. Finally, for the first time since moving to the city, you’re thankful that you’re not sleeping alone tonight.

The morning comes faster than you wanted- your eyes struggling to flutter open while you stretch your drained limbs. Sunrays bright between the blinds of the window- dancing shadows are cast along the bed sheets while a long yawn escapes your mouth. It takes a prolonged minute for you to realize you’re not in your own bed, yet a grin tugs at the corner of your lips when you’re acceptant that nothing from last night was a dream. Back still pressed into the mattress, your eyebrows furrow when you notice your empty peripherals- Seokjin’s warmth is absent until you remember him mentioning yesterday that he has an audition this morning, so perhaps he’s practicing in another room? Maybe he’s already left? Which also pangs the question: he trusts a stranger he just met yesterday to be in his house alone?

Before deciding on if you desire to remove yourself from his bed to look for him or not, you roll to lay on your side, eyes still in the process of clearing due to just waking up. A side table welcomes your sight, and with the squinting of your eyes, you notice a round, dark object sitting upon it. Blinking a few times, you focus in on the item, choosing to reach out to grasp it between your fingertips. Once you inch it closer to your face, the blood boiling within your system runs dead cold- fingertips numbing while the horror takes over your mind before you can accurately decipher what you’ve just discovered. You’re not even given the chance to make sense of it for the click of the bedroom door opening sends your hands jolting to grasp the bed covers to your chest while panic etches upon your expression- eyes widening at the woman who now stands before you.

Her gape resumed on the ground before looking up to the sight of you- gradual anger pooling within her eyes while the sound of her purse hitting the ground from her stiffened wrist, which exposes a shiny, diamond ring, being the only thing noticeable over the fog overwhelming you and your heaving chest.

“Who. The hell. Are you,” her blood red lips sneer with gritted teeth,

“I-I,” you’re barely audible, her cold stare never leaving your shattered state. You’re butt ass naked in what you assume is this woman’s bed and she’s not the one you hooked up with last night.

“Get out,” she growls, “Get out! Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Leaping from the bed, comforter twirled around your body, the object makes a ‘ding’ sound once it dins the floor. Your heart is racing above nausea swallowing your stomach; the woman continuing to scream while you frantically gather your clothes- throwing them on as fast as you possibly can. Your shoes being the final item, you leave the bed comforter somewhere on the floor, slamming the front door behind you once everything you had with you last night is officially covering your body.

You run. You just run.

Running from the utter humiliation that you know will haunt you for the rest of your life. You don’t even know where your apartment is. You don’t even know where you’re going really. All you know is you want to be as far away from that house as you possibly can. Tears fly down your cheeks as you choke back a sob- the chilly wind drying the trails upon your pale skin.

Wherever he is, you don’t care. You don’t ever want to see him again.

Nor do you want to relive discovering his wedding ring the morning, after you thought, had been one of the most beautiful nights you’ve had in such a long time.

Two years later….

It’s unexplainable. Flashing lights colliding with your vision from the limo while security protects you until you sprint safely into the building of your job. Heels click beneath you while you saunter to your dressing room, removing the sunglasses that cover close to the entirety of your face. Perfume drowns most of your skin, and small hands fluff at your curls before retrieving makeup brushes to resume the finishing touches in preparation for the evening. Thumbing at the corner of your script, you down the last bit of the water that you packed with you, smoothing your lips together from the gloss now decorating them.

Looking in the mirror is strange, from the woman you once were to the woman you are now, you never dreamed that your goals would finally come to life. Face ornamented into one of beauty with designer clothes you would have never been able to afford until given this opportunity. Even now, it seems like your life flashed before your eyes, and here you are, the co-host of Late Night in Seoul. The familiarity of the producer’s voice echoes outside of the room prompting you to rise to your feet. The walk to the stage isn’t a long one- cheers of the audience welcome you once your hand waves in return- the main host bowing politely while you take your spot behind one of the podiums off to the side. Recalling your script, you repeat the jokes written causing the audience to laugh along- the Host eventually introducing the celebrity guest who you smile toward with eager applause.

Fame is a funny word, one you haven’t quite grasped. You’re not as famous as one could potentially be, but you are, in fact, known. Being recognized in public is a rarity, yet there are days where you are swamped with questions of where one has seen you before but can’t quite place how. Celebrities who have featured in the show know you, some personally, so at times you do get to frequent parties where the most popular names are invited; and, you’ve gotten to travel to places that accomplished checks off your bucket list.

Getting through the evening in one peace, you find yourself within the back of a dark SUV where your favorite driver Stan politely asks how your night went, as he always does, before pulling into the driveway of your home. Stare lingering on your surroundings, when the coast is clear, you thank Stan for the ride and exit the vehicle cautiously. Walking into your house, you kick off your heels almost immediately, before running your fingertips upon your thudding forehead. In an attempt to ignore the mild pain, you scamper toward the kitchen where a pile of mail sits in await of your arrival. Your mother must have checked the mail this morning for you which is something she does especially on days where you haven’t had the chance to do so; she even tidies up the house, her being retired as well as being moved closer, for something to do which you are utterly grateful for.

Compiling the mail within your palms, you move your fingers to flip through everything when a magazine cover catches you off guard to the point you toss the magazine in frustration. For once in your life, you would appreciate the haunting of his face to not appear on every printed paper known to man. Squeezing your eyes shut from the turning memory you force yourself on a daily to avoid, you bite the corner of your lip roughly, hands gripping at the counter behind you. You’ve never professed to a soul about the happenstance two years ago, and it is a secret you plan on taking with you to your grave. Guilt has never dissipated after all this time, and it seemed as though once your career blossomed into success, so had his, which stirs emotions that have been pent up to the point that you wish you had a distraction, but one never appears, which tends to happen particularly on the nights you are alone. Glimpsing over at the spot where the magazine lays sprawled among the counter, with tongue in cheek, you shake your head, picking up the magazine to then tossing it into the trashcan.

Ridding of your outfit, you progressively change into your pajamas, scurrying to your couch to curl within the corner, pulling a thin blanket over your chilled frame. Leaning further into the cushion, you let the material soothe your aching head. You haven’t dated much since. Times that you’ve tried resulted in just as much disappointment as you’ve already endured multiple times prior. Maybe it’s the broken trust you struggle with when in the presence of a stranger. A lesson you wish you would have learned sooner but didn’t. Maybe it’s the way his eyes worshipped your body the second he got you alone that just dripped the temptation of desiring the taste of him-

“Fuck,” you wince, punching the couch once in order to halt whatever memory trying to plague your overwhelmed conscious. He’s divorced now. Or, has been for some time, but he wasn’t quite famous at the time the divorce took place. Being one of the top male actors in your country, word gets around- history people dig up just to update a fucking Wikipedia page, you grimace. Co-workers consistently beg the main host to feature him on Late Night in Seoul, and your heart races with the plan of calling out if need be to prevent from spilling the dirty little secret you have with the actor no one knows you’re affiliated with. You are the one person who is the cause to the end of his marriage. And, that’s a risk you’re not willing to take.

Restless, you rise from the couch, the blanket slipping off your legs while you finish ciphering through the mail that you missed. One letter gripping your attention, you rip it open, eyes widening as an “Oh wow,” of awe leaves your lips. You’re invited to an after party for a movie that recently premiered. Kim Taehyung, the lead role of the film, happens to be the star of the gathering- a typed address catching your gaze at the corner of the paper. Maybe this is, indeed, the distraction you’ve been longing for since your return home. Besides, if you remember Kim Taehyung, he’s won multiple awards for his acting career, though you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him- and, if your judgment is possibly correct, then this party should be one of the centuries. Texting your co-workers in hopes of them joining, you whirl to face your fridge where you magnet the invitation- gleefully skipping to your room to lounge through your closet filled with evening dresses in anticipation of finding the one to match what you hope will be a gleaming night.

The pounding bass of the music vibrates throughout the premises once your stilettos greet the sidewalk. Groups of people stand among the front yard, drinks in hand, yet none of them seem to wear the faces of your work friends. Slow steps direct you into the white building that erupts the assumption that it can hold over a thousand people, and sure enough, that’s what you discover. Hordes of bodies grind upon the dance floor while the stench of the alcohol burns your nose mingled with the intense smell of marijuana. Lip-locked couples appear in every corner you escape to just to awkwardly shove through until you find a table adorned with finger foods and a blue punch you reluctantly decide to try. Munching on a cracker, you sip from your drink, letting the strong taste of liquor pool onto your tongue before swallowing with a grimace.

You have yet to recognize a single individual before you, not even the sight of Kim Taehyung, the host himself, has yet to make his appearance from what you’re aware of. Eventually, tired of standing alone next to the cheese cubes you’re tempted to eat, you make your way toward the entrance in need of a breath of fresh air. It’s then, while you brush past the bustles of people swaying along the dance floor, your eyes pause upon a familiar silhouette- one that momentarily gaps you enough to squint your eyes. When gazes meet, his expression changes into one of sheer shock which mirrors the way your eyes enlarge when it dawns on you just who you’re staring at- heart-pounding viciously when your breathing increases. It’s as if you’re frozen in time- nausea rearing within your gut which awakens you enough to turn on a heel- throwing away your punch on the way out.

The cool breeze hits you the moment you rush out the front doors, ignoring the curious looks of the strangers you brisk past- the awful feeling of being followed is the last thing you want to feel, your pace speeding up when, in the distance, you notice a clearing far enough to where the party wouldn’t be evident. In desperate determination, you precariously saunter in the direction, not even sure how to run with the pressure of not destroying the stilettos or damaging your ankle if one wrong step is made. It doesn’t take much before you register the pounding steps behind you, a frantic voice calling your name, the feeling of your phone vibrating within your clutch which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut with tears of frustration brimming- your steps slowing into a halt. You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to talk to him. You just don’t want to be here anymore.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Wait, please!”

The bottom of shoes scuffles against the cement a few feet behind you while you shudder in fear. Eyes still closed, your shoulders tense from the proximity of the one person who you’ve mastered avoiding for two whole years- and, yet, you can’t face him. Not like this. Not now. Not ever. He’s out of breath from what your ears are picking up on, and he respectfully maintains his distance from you, your grip on your clutch tightening until your fingertips are a shade of white. “[Y/N]-”

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you sneer while the corner of your jaw clenches. Considering how famous he is, you vaguely remember the movie that jumpstarted his success, and you are semi-familiar with the co-stars who followed in the same direction. So, maybe it’s not necessarily a coincidence that he happens to be at this specific party? And, here you are, wanting to kick yourself for not even considering the possibility. You figure he must be confused with the way he stutters to reply, making mention he’s celebrating a movie he’s in, which sends your eyebrows furrowing with jumbled questions now plaguing your mind. The movie he’s in? “Okay? So then, what the fuck do you want,”

“I was- I was hoping we could- we could talk,”

Robotically, you gradually turn to face him battling the urge to cry from the anger rising beneath your chest, “Talk?” You ask incredulously, your body trembling from the anxiety attacking your system. You’re not wanting to see his handsome face, who’s eyes plead for your glance, conscious’ sharing the same memory that equally has haunted the pair of you unremittingly. Nothing about him has changed, you’ve gathered even from two years ago, and neither has the constant image of her face. The humiliation you experienced that day resurfaces, especially when the picture of her eyes discovering you underneath her covers while tepid anger darkened her irises along with the screaming for you to leave- suffocates you just as much as the dismay you felt finding his wedding ring that had been right beside you all night without your knowledge. “What happened to talking two years ago, huh? You had plenty of opportunity. You could have fucking told me you were married. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Seokjin winces from the cutting edge of your words, bowing his head ashamed before speaking, “I-I know, but if I would have told you-”

“You wouldn’t have gotten fucked,”

Panic widens his brown eyes while your heartbeat hammers to the point you can feel it in your temples, “No- No, I- That’s not what I’m saying. [Y/N], it wasn’t like that,”

“Wasn’t like that? Then what the hell was it, Jin? There’s no excuse. You had a wife!”

“I know,” the shame is too apparent to go unnoticed and with the rough scape of his palms colliding with his face, he gathers his bearings, raising his arms as if to calm you, yet you take a step back, refusing to let him inch any closer, “Just- just please hear me out.” Your shoulders remain tense, yet you’re frozen in place while he stammers, “Look, I- I know there’s no excuse for what happened. I don’t even know what else to say other than I’m sorry,” even the memory leading up to that rendezvous of the night seems to make an appearance causing your heart to turn with sadness you wish would dissipate into another universe, “I tried reaching out, but I never got a reply and I knew why, and I understood why, and I would do anything to take it all back if I could.”

Folding your arms tightly across your chest, you stare at the pavement below with lips pressed firmly together. It’s hard to ignore the chemistry that began the adventure to the coffee shop that day- jokes exuberating laughter that had warmth following even through the cold wind as well as the passion of his dream of acting being told to you while you shared your hopes and dreams with him. Two strangers. Just two strangers who felt as though the stars aligned for the both of you, yet your heart didn’t expect reality to come knocking, reminding you that everything is not always what it seems. And, that’s where the betrayal sets in- tears forming, the clench of your jaw is firming from having to fight the urge to cry.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]. I’m so sorry that I never told you. And, I am so sorry for what I did,”

It’s all coming back to you at once, and here you are still speechless. You can’t even look at him nor retain your emotions. How can someone who seemed so wonderful do what he did and think a simple ‘sorry’ would make everything better? In the end, he got what he wanted, while your side resulted with the scarlet letter of humiliation- her face will forever be embedded in your mind, and you wish you had the bravery to reach out to her, wherever she is. If anyone needs forgiveness, it’s you. Not him. Though in your heart you feel as though you will never deserve it, but ultimately, you will do anything to tell her that you’re sorry. Silence gripped the conversation a little longer than you realized, and with the profuse buzzing of your cellphone, your thoughts disperse the moment you hear Seokjin softly say your name, “[Y/N]?”

Tears rest upon your cheeks now which you immediately swipe away, sniffling before your pained expression meets his. There’s nothing in this world you want more than peace. Peace from this endless torture of a secret you have buried so deep within your soul- you blame yourself. You blame yourself for being so blind- and, standing here, before the man who destroyed your hope in what could have been- you step forward, “It’s her you should be apologizing to. Not me,”

“[Y/N]-”

Brushing past him, your heels stomp furiously beneath you, and your fingers fumble upon the screen in the goal of calling Stan. Whispered curse words slip from your mouth once the call ends, Stan only being fifteen minutes away from your location. Text messages decorate the majority of your notifications, and upon opening the group chat, embarrassment continues to flood your countenance while your eyes scan each message.

Taylor [7:21pm]: Hey, where are you??

Emmi [7:32pm]: Girl, we boutta meet Taehyung!!!! Get your ass out here!

M [7:46pm]: We’ll get you a drink just let us know where you are

Cody [7:48pm]: Are you already drunk? I scoped the restrooms and I don’t hear any puking

You can’t bring yourself to reply, so, therefore, you don’t- immediately shoving into the SUV the second Stan parks. You’re not surprised when Emmi tries to call, so with snuffling just enough to rid of the evidence of crying, you briefly answer, avoiding the concern glances Stan gives from the rearview mirror. It’s hard to hear your friend’s voice over the phone especially with how loud the music drowns the phone line, yet you assure her you’re fine- your excuse being that you’ve gained quite the migraine and that sleeping it off will be the cure.

And once Stan drops you off, that’s exactly what you do. Removing your makeup as well as your heels, the relief your feet feel once they meet your carpet as well as your figure from the tight dress you chose to wear this evening, you switch your ringer off and charge it on the desk away from your bed, refusing to even look at it. Numb limbs sliding under the covers, you let your pillowcase be the source of soaking your tears, wondering if life could get any worse than this.

Weakness dribbles its way along your body while you feebly stretch, greeting the morning with the same yawn, and the same aura of wanting to return to sleep, especially when the reminder of the night before seems to return in full force once again. This time, not wanting to ponder any further, thrusting the covers off your perspired frame to waltzing into the restroom, you brush your teeth before throwing on a simple outfit for the day- deciding to sit in front of your laptop before checking your phone.

It’s the strange feeling you have when your furrowed eyebrows stare at the device, screen blank as though it’s imitating your expression. It’s not long before you decide to check your messages, questions spinning the moment you see your screen light up with even more notifications than when you left the party.

Taylor [9:58am]: Okay, you have some explaining to do. How could you NOT tell us about this? Boss is gonna freak!

Cody [10:05am]: You know this is going to get brought up at work right. Boss isn’t going to let this go

Typing a message- You [10:06am]: Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to ditch you last night. I promise everything is fine. What do you mean boss is going to freak? Did I forget to send him the next idea for the skit with Son Ye-jin? Send.

Emmi [10:06am]: I should have known the paps were going to crash Taehyung’s party. What the fuck were you thinking [Y/N]????

“What… the hell?” Confusion borders every ounce of your being because you’re uncertain as to why your co-workers are involving the conversation about your boss. Only a second passing after you sent your message, the phone screen lights up with a call from Taylor.

“Hello?” You answer immediately, your tone in an obvious fright.

“[Y/N]?” Taylor’s sound reflects the same panic. Maybe it’s because she’s not completely sure if you’re okay? So, yet again, you proceed to reassure her,

“Hey… Sorry about last night, something came up-”

“Yeah, the migraine? I’m aware, but whatever you do, do not Google yourself,”

“What?” Sitting at the edge of your chair, your words are barely audible, dying off your tongue while your heart skips a beat. “Taylor, what do you mean? Why the hell would I Google myself-”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but pictures of you got leaked from the party last night,”

Pictures? Why would pictures of you be leaked to the press from Taehyung’s party? The only thing that happened that is remotely possible, revealing itself in your muddled brain, is the encounter with Seokji-

“Holy shit,” fear consumes you while your breathing increases, “No. No, no, no, no,” this can’t be happening.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N], are you there?”

“I have to go,”

Ending the call abruptly, your phone falls from your shaking hands while your widened gape remains upon the laptop in front of you. You’re clueless to how long you remain frozen, engaging with the burning question- the one that you keep asking on repeat. Clicking your laptop on, it loads until your login pops up- one by one you tap the keys until your password successfully unlocks to your desktop. Swallowing the lump in your throat- quivering fingertips eventually expose yourself upon the screen- the blurry pictures showing two frames- one being Seokjin, the other you- in a clear argument- even capturing the moment where he buried his face in his hands- and yet, you’re appalled by how close the paparazzi must have been, considering how you can’t believe you had been too upset to notice your surroundings.

Zoning to more pictures, there’s Taehyung- huge smile plastered beside other famous faces- showing the sweaty bodies dancing on the floor- others nearly showing the location just from the angle they took of the house itself. The pain in your gut nearly floors you when you scroll a few inches to discover numerous articles- the main topic printing your name in bold letters.

Kim Seokjin from the recent movie, It’s Definitely You, had an affair on now ex-wife-

A small video off to the side reveals a news broadcaster, her voice echoing while your ears tune in to the horrid sound, “[Y/L/N] [Y/F/N], Co-Host of Late Night in Seoul and Kim Seokjin from It’s Definitely You seem to have a feud regarding the affair on his now ex-wife-”

Kim Seokjin furious at the relentless [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N] for ‘tempting’ him into an affair

Gaze flashing through the titles, while muting the video, queasiness waves along your stomach to the point you can hardly process. Especially, when another article causes you to heave, making your heart drop to your knees,

[Y/L/N] [Y/F/N] had an abortion after her affair with Kim Seokjin

From that moment forward, your life changed into a world of running- in fear, in desperation, in a fight for solidity- you have remained running. Months pass after your boss threatened your job, confessing to your appearance on the show having to do with the decreasing views, not to mention the close call of someone following you home- Stan noticing right away before turning onto your street. Your parents have been worried sick, checking in on you as often as they can without you swinging by- not wanting any soul to find where your parents reside.

Groceries are now delivered to your home versus you taking the trip out in public- news of the affair hardly simmering down according to the magazines plastering your face upon all of them. Social media has been put on hold- refusing to scour the comments that have forever scarred your heart- something you’re uncertain you will ever heal from. ‘If you’re gonna have an affair on someone, at least make sure they’re pretty first;’ ‘Wow. An affair and an abortion? That cunt deserves to rot.’ The worst part of it all, even with the relentless questioning from who you thought were your peers, is the crazy accusation of abortion when you were never pregnant, to begin with. Standing up for yourself isn’t an option to you, because the partial truth is indeed, you were a part of an affair. One you had not an idea you were about to take part in. For all you knew, it was the innocent banter alongside Kim Seokjin that lead to a steamy endeavor- an endeavor that will forever deem you a whore. You didn’t know he was married at the time, and if you would have known, nothing would have happened.

For once, you’d like to have a moment of freedom, one where the wind sweeps you off your feet with the sun beaming down on your smiling face while your arms outspread before you in the joy of nature. If only that dream could be a reality you would finally be okay. Keen fingers fidget for your large pair of sunglasses while you gloomily gaze at the mirror- slipping them on before tying a floral cloth upon your head- disguising your hair you have now cut shorter in hopes of altering your appearance. There’s not a destination that you have in mind, but the need to breathe fresh air is all you can think about- soon prodding along the streets while your eyes scan every corner through your tinted shades.

The bus enters your view, deciding that maybe a trip to a random city is much needed. Preparing your money behind the passengers boarding, you pay the driver- scooting to an empty seat where you cuddle into the corner. Head kept low, you face away from the window since the paranoia of someone spotting you is still an avoidance you’d like to sustain. Lately, you’ve felt hunted, as if all of this is nothing but a game to the world. And, though you refuse to admit it, you’re still maddened by the attempts Seokjin has made to reach out to you, yet you ignore every email, stubbornly accepting the fate that you’re in this alone.

Alone.

That’s all you’ve ever been.

Bodies continue to float down the isles while you carefully observe each one, wishing you could be in their position- free and hidden from the public eye- never having to worry about their deepest secrets being uncovered- posted for all the world to devour. Lost in your little world, your scattered wishes disappear especially when your stare lands upon a woman – whose disguised behind a black mouth mask while a black cloth covers the majority of her hair, but it’s the way she carries herself that sparks your interest. The familiarity of her purse dangling from her wrist to the way her jaw curves- that’s when the thudding of your heart echoes through your ear canals causing a silent gasp to brush past your parted lips.

It’s her.

Flashbacks of two years ago smear your conscious- the shrilling pain that was engraved within her screams and the daunting way her eyes stared you down before you could grasp what exactly was going on. And, here she is, rows before you, taking her seat, completely oblivious to your presence slouching more into your seat. All this time you were too busy to think of how severe your privacy has been invaded that you never once thought of how all of this has affected her. Nipping at your fingernails, your anxious heartbeat has yet to calm- your mind fogged with nothing but the swirling wonders of how she has been, what she’s been up to, and of course, the main concern, what if she discovers you?

It doesn’t take but twenty minutes before the bus comes to a standstill, her carefully rising before making her way to exit onto the sidewalk. You hardly register your own moving footsteps- a few people behind her, yet your frantic eyes never leave her figure as she waltzes further up the street. Heavy breaths plague your lungs while anxiety smothers your being in a relentless frenzy, but whatever direction she’s headed, you’re determined to follow suit. The click of her heels fades with every corner she rounds while your converse quietly scrapes a few feet behind, trying to inconspicuously mold into the few pedestrians which you proudly stay in luck. If one were to ask why you’re doing this, you wouldn’t have an answer, because inwardly, you’re in the mindset of accepting that maybe you are unstable. But, maybe there’s just the revelation that you urgently want to know that she’s okay because if you’re too afraid to face her, maybe just knowing where she’s headed will give you a sense of peace?

Continuing your distance behind her, it dawns on you that the streets have become emptier and emptier, and the notice that she has stopped, you pin your back against a brick building, closing your eyes while you hold your breath. Waiting a few more seconds, you peer around the corner where she stands, her gaze scoping the streets before checking behind her which you efficaciously jump out of sight. She returns to what looks to be typing on her cellphone, and not much time passes before the accustomed sight of a black SUV comes into view. There’s a notable sticker faded in the corner of the windshield that piques your attention especially when you recognize the vehicle to be that of Stan’s.

“Holy shit,” your whisper is so low that barely you can hear yourself. Seokjin’s ex-wife throws her phone into her purse especially when a man exits the passenger side of the automobile gracing a boxy smile that you recognize to be Kim Taehyung’s. He’s fashioning a green tracksuit along with a red headband- his slim arms spreading to envelop her in a long embrace to where she buries her face within the crook of his neck. Sunglasses decorate his vision, and while he flickers his stance to ensure there is no one present, he turns to pull down her mask where he places his palms upon her cheeks, leaning in to plant a small kiss to her lips.

They enter the SUV, the one you haven’t been frequenting in due to current events, and you briefly press your back against the bricks once more in hopes of your hiding spot not being unraveled by the couple you happened to witness. Shock trickles your brain to the point that your nerves are shot because you can hardly make sense of anything anymore. Kim Taehyung is dating Seokjin’s ex-wife? Without Seokjin’s knowledge? If the whole world isn’t familiar with the pair, then why would Seokjin be? Is this how karma likes to play? Lurking into the shadows of the past just to snatch exactly what it needs?

Yet, you don’t feel sorry for him, because look at all this pain he has caused you. You were right, in your mind, a mere ‘sorry’ cannot fix the damage that has been done. But, in his ex-wife’s case, the damage brought her to what looks to be a stable, yet loving relationship, and that’s all you could have ever wanted for her. Tears brim your eyes while you squeeze them shut, the material of your shirt still scratching against the brick without wanting to move an inch. When a flash followed with a harsh click interrupts your seclusion, you’re not prepared with the yelling questions awakening you swiftly to the point of nausea-

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Is it true that you were fired from Late Night in Seoul!?” “Was it Seokjin’s decision to rid of the baby?” “Were you aware of-” “What will become of your career now-”

“Shit!” Your feet work faster than your brain, nearly tripping over the air to urgently escape the multitude of paparazzi now fresh on your trail. How long they must have been following you- you’re hoping not long- especially with the new revelation you viewed a few minutes before your identity was intervened. “Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone!?” You shout, this not being the first time this has happened since the night of that damned party; wind roughly blows against your cloth that is now loose upon your head- sunglasses hardly staying in place while you scramble to anywhere that will keep them from catching up. Thirty minutes pass before you’re out of breath, bent over while your hand clutches your abdomen- it doesn’t take much before you spew up whatever little contents you have within your stomach. Your hand soon finds the cool surface of a building while the foul taste of bile stings your tongue- still bent over, you retch a few more times before you swipe at the corners of your mouth; wherever the press is now, they’re not behind you, and once you’ve regained your composure, you keep your eyes peeled. You hardly remember the return to your home, lifelessly scampering to fix a cup of hot chocolate before settling onto the couch for the evening. You haven’t eaten in days, and you know it’s near time to order more groceries, yet you haven’t had enough appetite to crave much of anything. Exasperation mingled with deep sadness are all you can feel at the moment- the events of the day taking a toll on you more than you’d like to profess.

Swiftly checking your bank account, you exhale a sigh of relief with how much you’ve been able to save before the loss of your job. And, luckily, your pen name hasn’t been unearthed from your previous job which is something you wouldn’t be able to handle after everything else. Staring at the wall, letting the heat of the liquid steam down your throat, for once you confess to yourself, that maybe you had never been as lonely as you figured before. For now, cold fingers circling your mug while silence hovers in the air, you’ve never felt so alone.

It doesn’t register when you take another sip, that the doorbell rings, priming you to slowly set your mug upon the side table- eyebrows greeting each other from the confusion that fills your expression. Your tired appendages gradually make it to the door, unlocking the deadbolt just for your fingers to grip the doorknob, the creak of the door opening, before your eyes, peek through the crack just to cause sickness to grip your abdomen.

Seokjin stares at you, desperation manifesting in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here!? And, how the hell did you find-”

“I can explain,” he cuts you off- light headiness consuming you while anger pools beneath your chest. Blinking a few times, you rub your fingers to your forehead while a small whimper escapes your lips. Before you can comprehend what’s going on, your knees buckle, eyes rolling back-

“[Y/N]!” A frantic voice sounds- darkness taking over before you hit the ground.

“So um, would you like to take a walk?”

It’s the gentleness exuberating from the soft, brown irises holding your gaze that builds a tender smile at the corner of your lips. Just seeing the way your eyes spark a hint of interest relieves a mirrored grin upon Seokjin’s face, his eyes searching yours as if he can read exactly what your mind is thinking.

“I’d love to,”

The mention of the coffee shop is brought up the second the pair of you turn in the direction of it- Seokjin asking for any plans you may have for the day which you gladly admit to not having any. Small jokes are shared the entire adventure toward the entrance of the store, the strong scent of the coffee immediately greets you whilst your laughter persists toward a smiling Seokjin who admits he retrieves his jokes from none other than Google itself. You’re very attracted, and you know it’s obvious with the way your chest heats from the nerves traveling within your system, yet you observe that you’re not the only one guilty of being jittery due to the apparent shade of red dawning the tips of his ears once again.

When he insists on paying, you shyly defeat, the balminess of the Styrofoam cups warming your hands as the two of you trail to a faded, blue couch just a few feet away from the counter where orders take place. Without thinking, you manage to take a seat at the equal time Seokjin does- your shoulder nearly smothering his from the proximity you absentmindedly committed.

“Sorry,” you murmur, scooting a few inches away to provide him space you assume he may prefer. The blotchy blush that has covered most of your chest now spreads to highlight your cheeks, but it’s what he does next that makes your heart melt faster than you anticipate.

“Don’t be sorry,” he grins- shuffling closer to you to drape his arm around your shoulders, squeezing you gently. His handsome face is so close that you wish you could kiss him- something you don’t typically desire to do on a first date- if this is even considered a date- but, the way he timidly holds your stare, you could give in to him right then and there.

Clearing his throat, you break your glance by timorously admiring the coffee within your shaky palms, “What brought you to the city?”

Sipping your drink, you ponder momentarily before answering, “My job mostly. Plus, it’s a new scenery too. I grew up more in the country,”

“Do you like the city better?”

“I do, and I don’t,” you shrug, “The country is quieter, whereas the city has more noise, but I do enjoy certain areas of the city, like the park, some of the shops around here,” turning to look at him, you’re curious to what he favors, “What about you? What got you into acting?”

Looking ahead, his eyes briefly scan the scenery of the coffee shop, “It’s always been a dream of mine, even when I was younger. I graduated from Konkuk University with a degree in acting and art last year,”

“Oh, wow that’s very impressive,” you compliment, “I know earlier you mentioned you had an audition tomorrow. Are you nervous?”

Watching him tilt his head, he keeps his eyes fixated in front of him, you nuzzling a tad more into his side, his warmth bringing a feeling you haven’t felt in what seems like a lifetime, “I am, but I’m also excited. I’m not sure exactly which role I’ll land, but I’m hoping for a movie. There’s a romantic comedy I’m very interested in, but it depends on how well I do,”

“Good luck,” you smile, “I think you’ll do just fine,”

The conversation continues into your dream of co-hosting a night show one day, though callbacks for your auditions haven’t been made just yet, you refuse to give up hope. It’s funny how the talk of mere dreams can lead to the topic of food- Seokjin jumping on the idea of cooking for you sometime, “Which prompts my next question,”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stems within you, while you lean back just enough to take in his expression.

“Do you know what raw duck is?”

Of course, eyebrows furrowed, your mouth remains agape, and you’re uncertain why you’re overthinking it, “Isn’t it-”

“Tornado,”

“Oh!” Burying your face in your palms, Seokjin’s original straight face contorts into one of heavy laughter- you bundling your face into his chest.

“You took me, seriously didn’t you?”

“I’m embarrassed,” you kid while your voice muffles into his sweatshirt.

Once coffees are downed and cups are cleaned up, Seokjin holds the door open for you while he speaks fondly about his sugar gliders, hoping that you’ll come to meet them sometime. You’re so lost in your enchantment with this handsome stranger that you don’t want to leave. When dialogue dims, your hands stuffing into the pockets of your trench coat, you can’t help the undeniable yearn to remain in his company, “Thank you, by the way,” your soft voice matching the breeze cooling your tainted skin.

“Anytime,” he replies with the same tenderness within his deep voice. Maybe it’s the way his eyes bore into yours that really set the pace, or maybe it’s the way his thick lips persevere to keep such a sweet smile intact, but before you can catch yourself, you close the small gap between your frames with the quick stand on your tip-toes- your hands moving to squeeze his shoulders while your lips meet his. He tenses at first, mostly from the rapidity of the gesture, but once your lips part with his to relock so smoothly, desire seeps in- his large hands move to cup your waist to where your chests press. Leaning more into his kiss, you deepen it enough to where you fleetingly dance your tongue along the tip of his, wrapping your arms around his neck to offer more permission.

Eventually pulling away, mildly breathless, you’re too dazed to speak- his kiss leaving fluttering butterflies encompassing your heart. Seokjin is just as mutually enthralled as you are, and you take note of the struggle he has to form any attempt at words, “There’s um, there’s- there’s something wrong with my cellphone,”

Confusion plasters every aspect of your face as you step away with the quick tilt of your head, “What? Did you drop it?”

“I don’t- I don’t have your number in it,” slipping his phone from his pocket, he hands it to you. Laughter erupts from you, overpowering the subtle increase in your heart rate.

“This has never happened to me before!” Quivering thumbs begin after the surprise while you carefully type your number. All smiles face the direction of a destination you’re uncertain of, and now, you could care less as long as you get to spend the rest of your time with him. Handing him his phone, he slides his arm around your waist- you envision what would be the stars aligning, answering every wish you’ve mustered in your conscious- one wish that eventually leads you to the front porch of his house where no words are exchanged- just the addiction of his kiss and the burning crave to hold him close until the sun gleams outside his window to wake you to the reality you seemed to so easily forget.

The smell of chicken broth fills your nostrils causing your eyes to flutter open whilst groggily trying to clear your jumbled mind as to where you are. Head throbbing, your stiff digits pinch at the heated skin of your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut just enough for a small whimper to sound from your dry lips. Clinking sounds reverberate from the kitchen while you skirmish to sit up, realizing the plush fabric of a blanket is evident upon your enfeebled legs. Remembering the arrival of Seokjin, you huff in frustration at the realization that you must have passed out from all the shock you’ve endured the past few months. When frustrated tears well within your eyelids, you can’t even bring yourself to move- visibly weak from the enervation troubling your form.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey-” it takes a prolonged moment before Seokjin turns to the sight of you awake, his voice barely rises from a whisper while he rushes to your side, holding his hands in front of him in preparation if you were to fall. You can’t find the strength to speak, so you remain in silence- nearly shoving his hand away at first when he cautiously presses it to your forehead, “You’re burning up,”

Not getting a second to process his words, he jogs to the kitchen where the familiar trickle of liquid is being poured into what you assume is a bowl while his careful footsteps trail back to your location upon the couch. You try to lift your arms, but they don’t budge; Seokjin tags along a mini step stool to where he takes a seat. The jangle of the spoon stirs within the bowl, and from the look of the contents he gathers, it appears to be chicken noodle soup. Steadying the bowl beneath the steaming spoon, he offers some to you. Skeptical, you hesitate, flicking your eyes of warning in his direction while your fingers grip at the material of the sofa. He can see the obvious doubt written all over your face, but he gestures the spoon and bowl slightly trying to convince you to trust him. It’s not that you think he’s going to poison you or anything, but it’s the wonder of why he’s even here, to begin with. Accepting the soup, the heavenly taste soothes a sense of relief to your body, and Seokjin continues to feed you until the broth is gone.

Gaining enough strength to turn your head, in your peripherals you notice a full glass of water, something he must have set out for you whenever you were to return from slumber. When he sets the empty bowl aside, he rises just enough to retrieve the glass, “Here,” he says, bringing the rim of the cup to your parted lips. You down half the glass, and with a sweet grin, he then takes the empty bowl to place in the sink while he refills the glass of water to the brim. When he returns to you, you muster just enough to speak, “Why-” you clear your throat, “Why are you doing this?”

Ease settles within his voice at the sound of yours, rubbing his hands together, he stares at them momentarily before bringing his gaze to you, “I wanted to see you,”

“But, how did you-”

“I paid Stan.”

Mouth falling open, eyebrows wrinkling- your look must be incredulous from the surprise you feel within your chest; you look away from Seokjin, not sure if you should be angry or what, but instead, you let out a chuckle, “You bribed my driver?”

Seokjin breathes a small laugh himself, returning his eyes to his folded hands, “Maybe,”

Shaking your head, you decide to lean back onto your pillow, relieving some of the fatigue weighing heavy in your mind. How Seokjin knew Stan was your driver, you’re uncertain, and for now, you don’t even care to know the answer. As much as you want to believe he is a good person, it’s hard to. What happened two years ago isn’t something you can just brush off and pretend never happened. Especially with everything that has happened thus far. And even though you should be angry, you want to be angry- one hundred percent infuriated – you can’t. You’re so physically, mentally and emotionally drained, you just can’t.

“I was never pregnant,” you whisper, unknowingly confirming a question he’s been hounded with- Seokjin lifts his head, mouth ajar with widening eyes. “And I’ve never hated you for what happened.” A tear dribbles down your cheek, “I just- I just don’t know what to say,” Fighting is no longer an option you want to deal with anymore. He’s already told you he’s sorry, and here he is, right beside you making sure that you’re getting taken care of despite the circumstances. On top of that, you’re not alone. For the first time since this whole scandal began, you’re not alone. And you know, from the way fame can tear individuals’ apart, that Seokjin probably hasn’t been able to find a moment of peace for himself either. Meeting his eyes, right then the tears stream harder- Seokjin rushes to you until his arms embrace you. Body trembling, you bury your face into his chest; all the pain, all the anger, all the stress, all the depression, and all the guilt flowing down your cheeks. You don’t want it anymore. None of it. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his chin quiver against the side of your head. He doesn’t say a word. He just lets you cry. Just two strangers. Two strangers who made a mistake. Coming together with the sole purpose to find forgiveness.

And, when the morning comes, your eyes observe the serene view of Seokjin sleeping- the way his lips are parted while a wavy tint formed on his bangs from the way his head lays upon the pillow. He held you all night, and quietly, you tiptoe to your room because right now, there is only one mission you have in mind- and, there is only one person you plan on seeing. Gathering money in preparation, you send a text to Stan asking if he’s available for a drive. It doesn’t take long for you to get ready, throwing on some sandals to prevent the sound of heels from waking Seokjin. Stan pulls up, and with one more glance toward Jin, you lock the door behind you gently- skipping toward the SUV in broad daylight, determination burning within your bones.

Your breathing is heavy when you come face to face with the large, mahogany door- nerves numbing your fingers while anxiety takes a toll upon your tense frame. Mind racing, your heart thuds with the inclination of wanting to knock on the door, but you hold yourself back. C’mon [Y/N], you can do this. What the hell are you waiting for? Scolding yourself, you inhale and exhale slowly, closing your eyes. Composing yourself, you know it’s now or never- opening your eyes, the heat of the sun warming your back- you gesture to knock at the door, the exciting sound of a woman’s voice causing your ears to tune in.

“Coming!” Faint footsteps sprint to the door prompting you to draw another quick breath while the nerves tingle within your stomach. When the door opens, her eyes pause the moment she sees you- evident shock overwhelming her expression while she processes who she sees standing before her.

“Hi,” the greeting is soft when you speak, and you’re amazed if you were even audible enough to be heard. She takes a step back into the house to check behind her as if to make sure the coast is clear before returning her face to you, “I’m- I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she voices, catching you off guard, “How did you-”

Looking down at your sandals, you wet your lips while Seokjin’s ex-wife waits for you to reply, “I-I paid Stan,”

“You what?” You don’t expect the lenient chuckle that she graces and your clammy palms shove into the pockets of your coat while you gather the words you’ve been wanting to say for what feels like a lifetime.

“I know this sounds,” you begin while timidly looking at her, “I just- I needed- I just-” stuttering, you let out a long sigh, “I just needed to see you.” Your words seem to bring a spark of sincerity behind her eyes while she searches yours- folding her arms across her chest while she nods for you to continue. Bowing slightly, you take a moment before continuing, “I know it’s been a few years, but I haven’t fully recovered from what happened, and I will never be able to live with myself if I pretend it never happened, but… I came here today because I just needed to see you and tell you, I am so sorry for what I did to you,” the tears are welling in your eyes while your voice breaks, and although you don’t want to let the tears fall, it feels like these days that’s all you have left in you to do, is just cry, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I never will. But, if I would have known he was married, nothing would have ever happened between him and I. Nothing at all,” when the evident realization to your words seems to fully process, she stands straighter while you timidly glance toward the ground, “In fact, if I would have known he was married, I would have told him to-”

“Fuck off?” She says, catching you by surprise while knowing smirk tugs at the corner of her pink lips. Understanding floods her gape which leads you to let out a breath of relief.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I would have said,”

She nods, arms still crossed, but the tension eases from her shoulders, “You didn’t know.”

“No,” you whisper, bowing your head once more ashamed.

“I believe you,” the conversation remains quiet for what seems like forever although it was only thirty seconds, before Seokjin’s ex-wife steps forward, “You didn’t even know I existed, so in reality, none of it was your fault, and I can’t blame you for that,

Seokjin and I were very young when we married, and… It wasn’t necessarily our choice. Sometimes when it comes to making your parents proud, you’ll do anything.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be,” she gives you a kind grin, “Besides, if it wasn’t for you then Jin and I would have never found a good enough reason to tell our parents why the marriage simply wasn’t working… And, I would have never found Tae again,” happiness is noticeable in her voice at the mention of Taehyung- something you still awkwardly know about but are too embarrassed to confess, “Seokjin checks on us every now and then. He and Tae have been best friends for years now-” For some reason your trachea decides to react to the comment she just made, muffling your coughs into the crook of your arm. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah-” You manage to say, feeling the flush of your face turning red. Seokjin and Taehyung are best friends? So, that’s how Seokjin knew about Stan being my driver. And, maybe that’s what he’s been wanting to tell you all along? But, with that being known to you now, would you have believed it coming from his mouth? “I’m sorry,”

She giggles, “You’re fine. It happens,” she shrugs, “A year after the divorce, Seokjin and I found a way to move past it. He apologized, I forgave him, and we found a way to start over, but as friends like it should have been all along,” holding her eyes, you still remain speechless while her soft grin never leaves her face, “And, I forgive you, too, [Y/N]. I forgave you a long time ago,”

When you feel as though the heaviest burden you’ve carried for so long has been lifted off your shoulders, the tears fall immediately whilst happiness exuberates within your heart. You’re not even sure what else to do, and that’s when she pulls you in for a tight hug whispering the truth that she determines the two of you will be best friends after today. And, that’s something you know you will like very much.

The ride home holds nothing but a smile upon your face; one you haven’t felt in forever. Of course, before leaving, you search your whereabouts to ensure not one cameraman captured the personal moment between you and Seokjin’s ex-wife, or in better terms, your new friend. Now, the guilt about the anger toward Seokjin, although may have been valid, still haunts you in the sense of not fully giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even though, in the end, you’re satisfied with how the peace that has been obtained was graced in the way it was. The paths you, Seokjin, or your new friend have endured have not been easy, especially being involved in the spotlight, yet it has made every one of you strong individually. Overall, maybe an interview can be held for the four of you to reveal there is no underlying issue between the two couples will quiet the world in the judgment that has so easily been cast upon you and Seokjin especially.

Walking into your house, you’re greeted with the aroma of frying eggs mingled with the savory smell of meat. The soft click of the door closes behind you while you slide off your sandals before inching closer to the kitchen. The view before you melts your heart- still in the same attire as the previous night, Seokjin’s messy hair sticks from all sides- he continues turning the meat then reaching to stir what looks to be a pot of boiling rice. Off to the side are two plates already decorated with slices of your favorite fruit.

He wasn’t the person you always assumed he was. An arranged marriage nearly destroyed two people, yet they found a way to reconcile leading him to change for the better. Trust may always be a mountain you will have to climb, but at this moment, gazing at him surprising a meal he so thoughtfully decided to prepare, you’re willing to hike as far as you need to until you feel safe in his arms.

“Hey, I-”

“WHOA!” Seokjin jumps back, eyes wide while his arms frail in the air; the cooking utensil flies from his quivering hand making a clanging noise once it hits the floor. Springing back, your hand flies to your chest, “What’s the matter!? Are you okay!?”

When Seokjin realizes it’s you, he bends forward to rest his hands on his knees, “Oh man, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in,” Erupting in a bout of laughter, you can barely breathe, he blushes, “Yeah, yeah keep on laughing,”

“I’m sorry, I just- that was too funny,” slipping your jacket off, you walk over to hang it in your coat closet, then walking to the corner of the kitchen while you let Seokjin recover, “You don’t have to do this, you know,” you say tenderly- his back faces you as he carefully watches the cooking food. Without saying a word, he turns to look at you and grins along with a slight bow. Something ignites within you that leaves you contemplating on what you’re about to do- deciding in an instant, you walk over to him, slipping between him and the stove where your hands nestle on his waist just to place a small kiss to his lips. The gesture shocks him when he pulls away with dazed, yet wide eyes,

“What was that for?”

Holding his gaze, you slide your arms to fully embrace him, letting the truth fall from your smile in a gentle murmur, “I forgive you, Jin,”

He tenses, but only for a moment, as if to process the words he’s been longing to hear, letting your words sink in completely until he fully holds you, and you hope he never lets you go. Hearts pound together while the sound of sizzling food fills the silence. When the two of you pull away to face each other, he timorously bows his head as if to thank you, resting his hand on your face. Once dinner has been served and consumed, he gathers both of your plates while you follow him into the kitchen. He sets them within the dishwasher before turning to face you- drying his hands with a towel before laying it upon the counter.

“Do you remember what raw duck is?”

“Oh no,” you groan, leaning your head back in feigned irritation, “Please don’t say it,”

“You do remember don’t you,” he accuses- eyes sweeping your snickering face.

“I do,” you admit.

“Then say it,”

“Tornad-”

“I can’t hear you!”

“Tore. Nay. Doe,” Seokjin chuckles his well-known, high pitched chuckle as you pull him in for another hug, “Thank you for everything, you dork,” Warm fingertips find your chin, tipping it up to read your eyes. Before you can blink, Seokjin kisses you- your arms immediately wrapping around his neck while he leans more into you. Everything that the pair of you have gone through forgotten- because for now, away from the spotlight, the two of you can be exactly who you are without any fear of being exaggerated. You both can be human beings finally experiencing the one thing you’ve pleaded for since the day of first meeting.

Ultimately, there is such thing as redemption for those who will do anything to fix the mistake they made; for someone who is willing to change for the better and fight to make things right no matter how difficult things may appear. You and Seokjin are just two souls who happened to yearn for the same thing. The one thing you both needed to find peace again.

Forgiveness.

Not only forgiveness for one another or the forgiveness of the person wronged, but you both also learned, after all this time, to find forgiveness for yourselves. As Seokjin holds you, his kisses mesmerizing, you can’t help but feel the immense joy surrounding your heart. If there is anything, you want more in this world, it’s for this peace to last forever.

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