#now cross your fingers that someone will want to publish the novel

[agrlsname]

I just uploaded the draft of my last Johnlock fic on AO3, to be posted on New Year´s Eve. It's 221 words.

I also just put my whole novel, based on a Johnlock fic, into one document and formatted it to send to publishers. It ended up being 221 pages.

[ashirisu]

18 and 19 for the writer asks ☺️

Thank you so much for the questions! 🥰 Ask is for this post.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

I was really hoping someone would ask this! Here’s a clip from a piece I wrote titled The Aftertaste of Forgiveness:

Absolutions weren’t meant to be so bitter. They weren’t meant to bite at the sides of his tongue like a burn that wouldn’t heal. He’d spoken them before, relished their flavors in his mouth—sweet and satisfying, like liberation and joy and freedom and second chances. They tasted like relief, like a burden lifted by the strong and loving arms of someone who listened and cared. It was growing harder and harder to feel as though anyone was listening or caring as of late.

I loved writing this story, and this passage in particular. I wrote it for one of my previous D&D campaigns, shortly after this character had a devastating argument with mine. Their dynamic was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed exploring his side of the fight and the ways in which his religious trauma and relationship with my character played into his feelings about the whole ordeal.

I recently touched up this piece for my writing group and decided to lean hard into the purple prose. Apparently not hard enough—my group recommended I incorporate more sensory words, so I'm excited to do a third pass soon!

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I'm one of those writers who technically started before I can remember, but I do know I started taking it really seriously when I was around eleven. Eragon had just gotten a movie deal, and I was shocked to realize that teenagers could write bestselling novels. I decided I was going to be one of them, and immediately started on a fantasy series that was really just a bad Twilight Princess fanfic.

I loved writing, but I was a Gifted Kid™ in a small town and I let the adults in my life convince me there wasn't a future to be had in it as a career. I spent four miserable years pursuing a STEM degree I didn't want until I wised up and started prioritizing my writing again with a more applicable degree path.

These days, I mostly work behind the scenes as a developmental fiction editor! When I do write, it's largely flash fiction and short stories that are just for fun. I'm putting more time and effort toward submitting and (hopefully!) getting published this year, so fingers crossed.

I haven't forgotten my roots, though. That first fantasy story is still in my drafts, currently in the midst of what feels like its millionth rewrite!

[viridianwins-a]

Chilly morning, bright through the vitriols, as Crosseyra put the cup of coffee gently upon the birthday boy’s head. Wasn’t exactly hot nor cold. Beautiful to see him yawn, cling closer to the pillow, groan her name and curse the early hours. Alhaitham didn’t know yet she let him sleep for an extra hour. Can she blame him, though? He had never been a morning person.

“Oh, husband,” said she, fully aware that was a magic word to use on Alhaitham. Crosseyra held the cup up high, brushing grey hair off his forehead. “You’re so lucky you’re this cute.”

He is, immensely. His sharp green eyes Cross remembers them round and patient. She left a trail of pecks down the bridge of his nose.

“So… I pondered long and thoroughly what would be a fitting gift for another year of your wonderful existence, which happens to make me very happy,” she began, handing him the cup of coffee, knowing he needs it. “I chose the safest options. Light Novels directly imported from Yae Publishing House and, ¡Oh! Someone organized your load of archive applications from less to most likely to be approved, so you can come home early today.”

Cross figured the best gift he could receive is less working hours for a few days following his birthday, though not all that she’s willing to offer. “And a Valentine’s Day of your taste. We’ve been wed for a few months now, and I feel it would be just right to make my valentine take control of the festivities.”

Full control. Full liberties, Cross expected to hear his wishes and desires directly from his mouth. He was a simple man, easy to please, but worth of selfish requests all the same.

Wife gifted husband a smile, legs rubbing gently against him while talking.

“Tell me however you’d like us to spend Valentine’s Day, I’ll make it happen. A romantic dinner in Port Ormos? Drinking night at Lambad’s? Home cooked pastries? A whole day in bed and secluded from the world? You name it and it’s yours.” Her lips landed on his mouth. A short yet profound kiss. “Happy birthday, my sun and stars.”

a birthday boy 🌱 | @vygiler

Alhaitham lifted heavy eyelids. Persuaded, perhaps, by the faint aroma of coffee ( resting in her hands.. ); by the sound of her voice.., so playful.

He must have known he would not be denied because, unabashedly, he asked the fingers weaving through his hair to shield him, a moment longer, from the morning sunlight as he woke up, writhed on the sheets one last time, and sat up.

Genuinely intrigued. "It does?", he rubbed one eye, chuckled and listened, taking small sips, just as she had predicted he needed to. Cross would know about the arm her husband slipped around her waist, on instinct ( or whim ), as he rested his cheek on the crown of her head. "Huh", uttered with a growing smile, "I can devote that little bit of extra time to both reading and loving my wife.", added confidently.

"Shall I consider this the time to express my heartfelt thanks?" It just seemed right; to duck his head into her neck and travel, with gentle brushes of his lips, to her cheek. There was more, however, to his surprise. "You're not spoiling me too much?" He laughed.

and said, in case she had any doubts left, "I want it all." A romantic outing; a good drink; the taste of home; a moan of his name in the night. "..Aren't you considerate?" Then, with the same sincerity with which he meant his previous words, "Thank you."

[mickey-henry]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

pairing: bucky barnes (bookstore au) x reader

summary: eager to escape the heat, you find yourself in the presence of a mesmerizing bookstore and an irresistibly beautiful man.

word count: 2.3K

author’s note: hello! welcome to my third fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 thank you to @certainaesthetic​ for helping me workshop this idea, @fuckandfluff​ for the grammar help, and @midnightf​ for hyping me up as I wrote it! likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! the header images are from pinterest and the divider is from here. I hope you like it! 💖

You’re desperate to escape the smoldering heat. It’s too hot to rest in the car; it’s been baking all day beneath the sweltering summer sun, parked just outside your place of work. If you attempt to sit in it now, you’d only be greeted with a wave of torrid air, stung with the touch of your seatbelt, and burnt from the searing leather of your steering wheel.

You’re off from work earlier than usual—the blinding sun is usually long beneath the horizon before you head home for the day. The pathetically small sun visor does nothing to shade your eyes from the blazing sunlight. Rather than driving half-blind, you decide to wait out the setting sun.

As you ponder how to spend the rest of your afternoon, you realize that now is an opportune time to visit the new bookstore, The Book Haven, that opened last month. After changing out of your uniform and throwing your work stuff in the trunk, you walk across the plaza to the shop entrance.

The bookstore greets you with the chime of a bell and a rush of cool air as you step in, a blissful contrast to the scorching outdoors. The welcoming scent of coffee grounds and the tangy aroma of old books accompany the refreshing breeze. You take a deep breath, appreciating the convivial atmosphere. The bookstore is a sublime sight; words almost can’t describe its charm.

Shelves like skyscrapers—stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and comics—graze the ceiling. An intimate reading nook lies next to the door; an inviting window seat dwells beside a floor-to-ceiling window. Clear mosaic window clings cover the glass, casting beautiful rainbows throughout the store. Stringed vintage light bulbs illuminate the shelves; candle-lit sconces adorn the top corners of each one. Oriental rugs lay between the shelves, covering a dark mocha floor. Tucked in the back of the store is a small coffee cranny, hidden at first glance. Frank Sinatra’s charming, rich vocals travel through the air, tickling your ears. The owner clearly put the utmost time, energy, and love into the creation of their shop. It is unequivocally perfect and already one of your favorite places.

You wander to the classics section, enthralled by the exquisite covers. Sensing someone nearby, your eyes glance at movement caught in the corner of your eye. Your stomach somersaults at the stunning stranger. The instant you lay your eyes on him, you forget to breathe for a moment—your breath engulfs your throat. You’re astounded by the Adonis of a man before you.

Bristles of scruff grace his defined jawline—his low man-bun neatly styles his dark chestnut hair. A grey short-sleeve button-up shirt hugs his toned arms; a white tank top clings to his lean, fit frame; cuffed slim-fit khaki pants, help up by a bronze braided belt, embrace his thick thighs; and weathered, chunky brown leather shoes don his feet.

Through the rose-colored glasses that surround your heart, your soul imagines a life with a perfect stranger. The hopeless romantic in you can’t help but steal glances, hoping to catch a better glimpse of him. The moment he turns to walk away, your heart sinks to your stomach. You hope this isn’t the last time you see this gorgeous man.

A few minutes later, you’re mulling over a collectible edition of The Catcher in the Rye, attempting to justify purchasing yet another copy of your favorite book. A melodic voice interrupts your pondering. “That’s a pretty edition of The Catcher in the Rye you’ve got there.”

You turn towards the charming voice. Lo-and-behold, it’s the love of your life: the handsome stranger you’ve mentally lived a lifetime with. His beauty is even more profound up close: now you can see that his eyes are a lovely shade of blue. His eyes, haunted by a subtle sadness, draw you in, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You find yourself entranced in his sea-blue current; you could easily drown in his gaze. You attempt to hide your awestruck expression and converse with him like a normal human being. “I agree! I already own a copy though, do I really need a new one?”

“I think we both know the answer is always yes,” he assures.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I'll get it! Thank you for justifying my unnecessary purchase.”

Your words hang in the air, everything going quiet as you wait for the ravishing stranger to introduce himself. The two of you stare in silence at each other, the tension thickening as the seconds pass by. After a few moments, his face flashes in realization—you were waiting for his name.

“I’m Bucky,” he offers with an enchanting smile, extending his hand out to you. You share your name as the two of you shake hands. Your eyes stare down his veiny arm to his ring-studded fingers grasped around yours. You allow yourself to imagine for a few moments how amazing those fingers would feel tracing your arms, tangling your hair, and teasing your inner thigh. Your lustful reverie comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the book nestled inside the crook of his elbow: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, the bane of your existence. You scoff with furrowed brows; of course, Mr. Handsome Stranger would be interested in the one book you despise.

“Got something to say there, sweetheart?” he questions with an amused grin.

“Out of all the classic novels in this entire store, that’s the one you chose? The Metamorphosis?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” he jives.

You pause for a second, debating whether it’s worth it to argue with a stranger. The pondering lasts only a few seconds; the exhaustion from your day disintegrates your filter. Besides, you loathe The Metamorphosis.

“What isn’t wrong with it? The dude wakes up thinking he’s an insect? The reader has to sit there throughout the entire book, wondering whether he’s a man or a bug? What the actual fuck? I didn’t appreciate the existential crisis that book gave me at fifteen; if I can help someone else avoid the suffering caused by that monstrosity, I'm going to do my part,” you huff, unamused by the joy Bucky seems to gain from your zealous analysis.

“Wow, what a passionate review! Perez Hilton would be envious of your slander. Okay then, what classic would you recommend instead?”

You cross your arms, expecting him to challenge your response. “The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a play,” he counters.

“It’s published as a book; it counts! It’s witty, playful, and has a happy ending, which is the most important point of all. It also doesn’t make you want to pull a Fahrenheit 451 and burn every copy in existence,” you attest.

He steps closer to you, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, sweetheart.”

Great, there he goes again with that freaking pet name; it’s going to be the death of you. He knows your name, you just gave it to him, yet here he is, infuriatingly insisting on calling you sweetheart instead. Stupid pretty boy with his ocean blue eyes and amorous smile.

“That’s exactly the point,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So, why would I want to read something that doesn’t end well? If I’m going to escape this reality for a while, it better be for a happier one.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then I’ll throw the book across the room and make up my own happy ending!”

“Ooh, aggressive,” he tuts. “The owner of this place might not be too happy with you if you’re throwing books all over the place; it’ll scare away the customers.”

“Then it’s a good thing the owner isn’t here,” you interject confidently, knowing full well you have no idea who the owner is.

“Well, that just isn’t true, sweetheart. You’re looking right at him.”

He’s lying—he has to be. Why would a dreamboat like Bucky own a bookstore?

You scoff, “you’re not the owner of this place.”

“I’m not? What makes you say that?” he banters.

“People like you don’t own bookstores!” you exclaim.

“People like me?” he goads, cocking his head to the side. The action erupts butterflies in your stomach.

“Attractive people!” you groan.

“So you think I’m attractive?” he plays, stepping to close the gap between you.

“Psh, no, you wish,” you muster. The heat spreading across your cheeks betrays your bluff.

There are mere inches between the both of you now; you hope he can’t hear your racing heartbeat. You watch his eyes go down from yours to your mouth and back up again. He eyes you with a smirk, his teeth playfully tugging his bottom lip. It takes everything in your power not to give in to his spell.

“I’ve known you for what, five minutes? I don’t go around kissing strangers, Bucky,” you falter, taking a step back from his closeness.

“Then let’s not be strangers, sweetheart. Grab a coffee with me; I know a nice place, not far from here,” he flirts, gesturing to the counter at the back of the store.

“Let me learn more about what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he purrs, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay, fine. I’ll have a coffee with you,” you surrender.

A bright, honeyed smile dons his face.  

“It better be good, though. Not the stale crap you usually get in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’d only give you the best, sweetheart,” he winks, extending his right hand. You take it; he gives you a soft squeeze before weaving you through the towering shelves.

Your discussion continues with another passionate book review as he prepares your drink. He’s a sucker for gritty dystopian novels while you gravitate towards sappy romances. He shares his passion for painting as he guides you to the reading nook. The artwork hung on the edges of the bookcases is crafted by him—a detail you hadn’t noticed at first glance. His stunning work features both landscapes and people. He loves to sit in a picturesque landscape and paint for endless hours. Occasionally, he takes his old polaroid as he explores the town, snapping moments between strangers, translating their intimacy to canvas when he gets home.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the reading nook before handing you our steaming cup of joe. You sit with your legs crossed, your hands hugging the mug in your lap. Bucky sits with his leg draped over the side of the bench, his left foot pressing into his right thigh. The conversation shifts topics; the two of you divulge your desires and unfulfilled ambitions. You aren’t sure if it’s the look in his eyes, the sweet cup of joe in your palms, or the aroma of coffee surrounding you, but in his presence, your senses feel wide awake.

Before you know it, the mesmeric moon replaces the sizzling sun, melting away the blistering heat, and the steaming cup of coffee in your hands has long chilled. Bucky’s employee interrupts the blissful rendezvous, informing him that all the closing duties are complete, and he’s headed home for the night.

You stare at your watch in shock—it's five past nine. Where did the time go? You apologize profusely to the poor kid who had to close up alone; he assures you it’s no problem.

A melancholic pit in your stomach forms as you turn back to Bucky. He’s nestled himself into your soul; you don’t want to say farewell to him so soon. He has a sad glint in his eyes; you hope it’s because he’s also dreading the end of this perfect night.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks timidly, his earlier suave demeanor gone from his voice. He stands up in front of you, offering his arm to escort you.

“I’d love that,” you reply with a shy grin, grabbing his arm and hugging it tightly.

In the blink of an eye, you’re in front of your car. You let go of his arm and lean against the trunk. You stare into his eyes, hoping that he can see without the use of words how much you don’t want this moment to end. There’s a few moments of painful silence before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, now that we’re not total strangers, how about that kiss?” he flirts with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” you reply with a bashful smile.

He slowly reaches his hand towards your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. He presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to do this? ‘Cause if we do, you might not be able to get rid of me, sweetheart.”

“Yes I do, Bucky,” you giggle.

He grins as he gently presses his pillowy pink lips on yours. The kiss steals all the air from your lungs—his touch sends tingles throughout your body, electrifying your veins. You’re breathless when your lips finally part.

“Let me get your number before I let you go,” Bucky insists. You nod and hand him your phone, unable to form a coherent thought.  The ghost of his lips and fingers trace your figure. You’re barely acquainted with his tender touch, yet you feel naked without it, yearning to once again be within his grasp.

You exchange phones—adding your number and name with a sparkling heart emoji and swiftly passing his phone back before you can change your mind. Bucky snaps a quick selfie for his contact, smirking for the camera. You grin when you see he also put emojis by his name: a beetle and a kissy-face.

He pecks your cheek before opening the car door for you. “Hope to see you around, lovebug.” The new pet name burns your cheeks and erupts butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until your car disappears completely from his view.

You drive home with thoughts of Bucky swirling in your mind. You send a silent thanks to the universe for bringing this beautiful man into your life. His voice, touch, and smile echo in your thoughts for the remainder of the evening—his presence paving its way through your dreams. You’re falling hard and fast; you only hope he’ll be there to catch you.

tagging a few mutuals who expressed interest in this story🥰please fill out the taglist form if you’d like to be tagged in the next story! 💖

@ritesofreverie @midnightf @certainaesthetic

[curmudggeon]

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

-

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

[n0bamak1s]

whisper of the heart- megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you begin to take notice of the name “megumi fushiguro” on all the tops of your library checkout cards. a semi-retelling of whisper of the heart featuring you and megumi. (genre: fluff, high school au, meet cute)

warnings: none! except maybe slightly ooc megumi

word count: 3.2k

a/n: hi everyone! ty all again for being so patient with me publishing this. i’ve been very busy with college apps lately, but i’m gonna try to keep this blog as active as i can while balancing it with school life. anyways, i had a lot of fun writing this, but i’m definitely not used to writing megumi, so feel free to leave feedback ^^ i also changed some details from the original movie and left it a bit open ended, so feel free to let me know if you want a part 2!

“who the hell is megumi fushiguro?”

your gaze was fixed on the faded ink reading the now all too familiar characters. the characters spelling out a name that managed to keep showing up on the yellow tinted checkout cards tucked into the books you borrowed.

nobara glanced over your shoulder, inspecting the piece of cardstock tucked between your fingers. wrinkling her nose in disgust, she plucked the card from you, holding it closer to her face.

“whoever it is, they have terrible handwriting.” she stuck her nose up, turning back to you with a playful smile. “i don’t know how you managed to get ‘megumi fushiguro’ out of that chicken scratch.” a face of mock distress crossed her features as she did air quotes around the name, as if she couldn’t believe such a delicate name would be given to someone with such handwriting. she’s always had a tendency to be a bit over dramatic about trivial stuff like this.

with nothing more than a huff in response, you snatched back the card, tucking it neatly back into your library book. your fingers grazed the worn down cover for a moment, gliding along the slight tears around the corners and the stiffness of the yellowing pages.

‘i wonder how many of these creases came from megumi fushiguro?’

“whoever it is, it seems like that name shows up in every book i check out in the library.”

nobara kicked a rock as she walked, leaving a small cloud of dust around her feet. “maybe you’re just imagining it. you always stay up so late doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time that you’ve probably begun to hallucinate.” she nudged you playfully, eliciting a dead pan expression from you.

“i’m serious nobara. i mean, i’ve never really believed in fate but there’s no way it’s completely coincidental!”

she raised an eyebrow, as if to say you can’t be serious. “i think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, for all you know this person could totally be just some weird old guy with nothing better to do than visit the library.”

“hey!” you acted as if that last bit was a personal attack on you, and knowing nobara it probably was. “i’m not saying this megumi fushiguro person is my soulmate or anything, i just think it’s a very strange coincidence.” you shrugged off your backpack as you talked, putting away your book. noticing the suspiciously light weight of your bag, you rummaged your fingers around for a moment to find that your sketchbook had gone missing.

crap.

nobara turned to you, perceptive as ever of your suddenly altered demeanor. “forget something again?” it was almost annoying sometimes how well she knew you. was it really that obvious?

“just my sketchbook,” your hands rifled through your bag one final time to make sure you really didn’t have it “probably left it on the park bench or something, it’ll just be a minute to get it.” you turned to her with a sheepish smile, silently pleading her to follow you there. she stared blankly at you for a moment, probably having one of her internal monologues about how lucky you were to have her as a friend, before rolling her eyes and following suit.

“this better be quick, i have places to be you know!”

“no you don’t.” you turned around before you could meet her melodramatic glare.

behind you, you could hear her huff of dissatisfaction, though she made no move to leave, reassuming her position next to you, giving you a gentle nudge as she brushed next to you.

as you walked, the sunlight peeking between trees framing your pathway began to warm your face, highlighting the ends of your eyelashes and the tops of your cheeks with the warm glow of the first hints of summer time. for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped in it, before your fleeting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bike coming in your direction. you felt as if you’d jump out of your own skin in that moment, hearing a “move out of the way!” from a husky, disembodied voice.

it probably looked pretty ridiculous how you jumped out of the way, kicking up a fleeting cloud of dust as you avoided the sudden presence of the biker. grounding yourself, your eyes flickered up to the source of the voice, being met with the gaze of stormy blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes that nobara would most definitely be envious of. taking in the boy’s whole figure, your eyes were drawn to the messy black hair atop his head, formed at the ends into contradictorily gentle looking spikes. the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up taut around his forearms, leading your gaze to his hands wrapped tightly around the bike handles.

oh, right. he’s still biking.

you turned your focus back to keeping to your side of the path momentarily, before the sight of your name written atop the sketchbook peeking out of his bag came into your field of vision as he continued to move past you. before you had time to think rationally, you turned to his now retreating form, breaking into a jog, kicking up a few more dust clouds as you did.

ignoring nobara’s incredulous calling of your name, you tried to call to the boy who had no intention of slowing down. “excuse me!” you cupped a hand around your mouth, hoping to project your voice louder. “hey!” the irritation in your voice was clear, but you breathed a small sigh of relief as the bike slowed to a stop, and the spike headed boy turned to your direction.

after an awkward moment of your continued jogging to him while he stood with a blank expression, you stopped in front of him, an accusatory look grazing your features.

“i think you have something of mine.” you tried your best to imitate the confident attitude you always admired from nobara, placing a hand on your hip and using the other one to point to his bag. his gaze followed the direction of where you pointed, his eyebrows raised while the rest of his face remained stagnant.

“oh, this?” he tugged the cardboard covered sketchbook out of the pocket it had been placed in, examining the cover. his eyes flickered between your name written in the top corner, and your currently annoyed looking face, as if he was playing some sort of word association game. you simply nodded in response, anticipation clear in your actions.

as he held out the sketchbook to you, he leaned down so his face was closer to you, as if to tell you a secret, voice low and eyes trained on you. “you should be more careful next time. you’re lucky i’m nice enough to not just steal this from you right now.”

you didn’t have an explanation as to why your heart began to race.

taking your silence as a response, he pushed it into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours gently. “nice drawings by the way, i recognize your friend over there from the portrait you drew of her on the first page.” his face remained stoic as he pointed at nobara, who was tapping her foot in boredom.

face warm from embarrassment, you snatched the sketchbook from where his hands lingered on it, muttering a bitter sounding “thanks” before stalking over to nobara once more, who looked relieved that she’d finally be able to go wherever it was she was going to.

“what an asshole.” you glared at him over your shoulder as he biked away, your gaze lingering a second too long for someone so insistent on hating him. nobara shook her head in response, clearly annoyed at your own obliviousness after witnessing the whole interaction.

a smug smile crossed her soft features. “maybe that’s megumi fushiguro.”

you raised a brow as you glanced at her. “as if!”

despite your insistence on your distaste for the mystery boy, he managed to have flooded your thoughts. ‘he must be using sorcery or something to keep himself on my mind, weirdo.’

still, you couldn’t deny how just a few more of your portraits were accented by ocean blue eyes, or pointed ends to the different mops of hair you sketched. how did you manage to keep attracting mystery people into your life?

when you returned to the library, you gripped a thick science fiction novel, the pages brushing your soft fingers as your marched it up to the checkout counter. as the librarian wrote the date on a small piece of cardstock, you took note of the fact that your name would be the first one there. had megumi fushiguro missed out on this one?

a pleasant smile stretched across your face as the librarian handed the book back to you. scrawling your name at the top of the checkout card, your eyes flickered to a stamp of ink beneath the slot for it.

donated by fushiguro.

of course it was.

the library door squeaked quietly as you pushed it open, one hand on the door, and the other placing your new book in your backpack. zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder, you were met with the feeling of a dog sniffing your leg. your eyes trailed down to a dog almost akin to a small polar bear brushing its nose against your calf. reaching your hand to scratch softly against the back of his head, you coo gently at the not-so-little little guy.

“what’s got you all by yourself buddy?” an involuntary smile creeps onto your face at how he calms at your pats.

wordlessly, obviously considering this is a dog, he turns and walks a few steps forward, before pausing and tilting just his fur covered face toward you, egging you on to follow him just as you had the other day with nobara. you considered for a moment, before shrugging and giving in to his pretty minimal amount of convincing. nobara would be out getting lunch with maki today anyways, so you could use something to do today. after all, it could be fate.

it was almost as if you were one of those people who walked their dog without a lash, but in reality, it was more like the dog was walking you as it lead you down tall, sidewalk-lined hills and through parks filled with young parents having picnics with their children and couples going on walks. you wondered to yourself if this was a worthwhile excursion, was he just leading you to a dead end, or worse, was he some dog trained by a gang to lure people into danger?

after walking a few minutes more, you found out the spot you were being lead to was, in fact, even worse then both the possibilities you’d been brainstorming in your head, when you were met at the bottom of another hill with the stoic expression of that spike head. his eyes softened at the sight of the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips that quickly vanished as he met your gaze, his eyes hardened in contrast with the bashfulness that shone on his cheeks.

“oh, you found him. thanks for that.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his gaze back to the dog. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. to be fair though, what did you expect you’d do when you found where the dog was leading you?

“i should probably go.” your usually collected demeanor had been replaced with that of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. with a stiff wave, you took your leave, turning on your heel.

“wait.” his voice wavered, as if trying to catch himself before he spoke. “i can walk you home if you want. it’s the least i can do after you got him home.” he forced a smile onto his face, though it made him look more constipated than inviting. what happened to the snarky, aloof boy who had handed you your sketchbook just a few days ago?

still, you nodded, lips pressed into a line that you hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. surely, you should have been more worried about his sudden change in demeanor, but the relieved expression on his face seemed to soothe your nerves a bit. he assumed a spot next to you, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“your little buddy there lead me all over the city trying to find you, so i don’t exactly know how to get home from here, but maybe you can just lead me to the library.” you turned so you faced him, now aware of the close proximity between you two. nobara would probably laugh in your face if she could witness the moment you paused, stunned by the eye contact he made with you under his thick eyelashes. had you been perceptive enough in the moment, you may have noticed the blush creeping up his face. he nodded his head, which was already tilted down to face you fully, with eyes hazy and lips slightly parted.

“it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” he removed his hand from its pocket to point up the hill that had brought you to him in the first place. you gripped the straps of your backpack and faced in the direction he pointed to obediently, hoping to ignore the weird tension in the air. what could you talk to him about?

before you could continue your internal dilemma, he cleared his throat again. “you seem to like the library a lot, huh?”

by god was this boy terrible at small talk.

“i guess i do, but i don’t know how you came to that conclusion considering i only just brought up the library.” you cocked an eyebrow as you looked at him, probably sounding more annoyed than you’d intended.

he smiled knowingly at you, a hint of disbelief on his features as he raised his eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t know since your nose is always buried in a book, but i see you there like every day.”

your eyebrows furrowed so they practically touched, trying to rack your memory for seeing him in the library. “i’m sure i’d be able to recognize you if you did.” you were completely oblivious to the implications of how memorable you found him that laced your statement.

he shrugged nonchalantly. “believe it or not. i even tried sitting down in front of you a few times, but you were always too focused on your books to notice.” his smile was almost bittersweet as you waited by a stoplight. before you could respond, he continued. “it’s kind of admirable though. i think it’s nice that you’re so passionate about your books.”

you took a chance to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since you’d glared at him biking by. he held your gaze, eyes gentle. there was absolutely no way this was the same boy carrying your sketchbook in his bag from a few days ago.

“well if you think i’m so nice, what was with you trying to be all smart about my sketchbook?” ever the stubborn one, you were.

he shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “you really should be more careful of your stuff. i was just letting you know. it’s not like i would have put in that effort for just anyone’s sketchbook. i guess i was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it again. sorry if i offended you.”

the way he was blushing would have made any bypasser believe he’d just asked you to marry him.

“it’s just…” he continued “after seeing you in the library all the time, i thought you were really impressive. i thought if i tried to return your sketchbook, i could impress you too.” he kicked a rock that touched the edge of his sneaker.

“why would you wanna impress me?” your obliviousness was excruciating for the poor boy, though it was completely sincere on your end.

“you know, for someone so smart, you really are dense.” he pursed his lips, feigning annoyance. “and here i was thinking i was so obvious.”

at this point, you were nearing the library, and suddenly desperate to continue this conversation that you would have been dreading at the start of this walk.

“when it was obvious you weren’t gonna look up from your book, i tried checking out as many books as i could to get on your radar.” his smile had a weird hint of sadness behind it. you stayed silent, piecing together facts in your head.

“recognize the name megumi fushiguro?”

oh.

it pained you for a moment to know you’d have to tell nobara she was right.

“you’re megumi fushiguro?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly agape. he seemed to stifle a laugh at your expression.

“i mean, what were you expecting?” he looked a little too smug for someone who was too scared to talk to you in the library.

“some weird old person, probably.” you shrugged, still with an incredulous look on your face. “i’m glad it wasn’t though.”

“oh?” he really did have a nice smile. “i guess you’re glad it was me then.” even he was unsure of this sudden confidence.

you pondered his question for a moment, but your body moved before your brain did, nodding your head slowly. he seemed to loosen up then, hands out of his pockets again, making you aware of how close you stood to him with the way his fingers brushed yours every few steps. a slight sadness filled your being as you stopped in front of those squeaky library doors that suddenly seemed so uninviting.

“i’ll tell you what then,” he started confidently, juxtaposing the bashful way he avoided eye contact with you all of a sudden “come to the library again tomorrow, and i’ll meet you there. really meet you this time, not just walking past your table. i can show you my favorites there and you can show me yours, it’ll be…fun.” he looked up almost worriedly for your reaction, slightly angry at himself for his sudden shyness, you seemed to have quite the effect on him.

there was a beat of silence, and he almost cut the tension in the air by taking back his request and booking it back home. before he could fully hatch his master escape plan, you reached over to grab his hand, his slender fingers lacing through yours. you gave it a light squeeze, and swore you could feel him jump a little at the contact.

“i’d like that a lot,” you looked in his eyes, which had gone from defensive to doe like in just your five words “megumi fushiguro.” he loved the way his name sounded coming from you. his anticipation cracked into a smile as he squeezed your hand back, and you prided yourself on getting to make him smile again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, then.” he leaned down slightly as he said it, reminiscent of how he had scolded you about your sketchbook just a few days ago. you nodded in response, unable to stop the giddy smile stretching across your face.

tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.

[luvidzy]

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: kim seungmin x reader

☆ summary: an anonymous person is writing poetry and you are determined to get to the bottom of it

☆ word count: 3.2k

You honestly hadn’t even noticed at first. You weren’t really into the school paper, so you didn’t read it very often unless Felix decided there was something interesting you just had to know. Which is exactly how you found out about your secret admirer posting about you in the paper.

“Y/N, you have to see this!” Felix’s voice rang out as he slid into the seat next to you. You looked up, less than thrilled to be interrupted in the middle of trying to study for your Greek Classics test tomorrow, but you couldn’t stop yourself from setting your pencil down at Felix’s excited expression.

“Yes, Felix?” You asked, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice. If Felix noticed, he didn’t let him affect his excitement as he pulled the school paper out from under his arm, unrolled it and smacked it down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the front page, trying to figure out what Felix was so eager to show you, but nothing stood out. There was an article about the softball team, an article about an upcoming concert by 3racha, and a column that was talking about new things to do on campus. Nothing particularly interesting, and also nothing that you hadn’t seen before in the paper.

“So I was looking at the paper, and something caught my eyes. Come on, you have to read it,” Felix urged, his eyes sparkling as his freckles crinkled beside his eyes. You rested your forearms on the table, signalling to him that you were listening. Felix began to flip through the pages, before he landed on one of the latter ones. 

His finger pointed out a small section of writing in the upper right hand corner. You squinted slightly, bringing the paper closer so you could look at the words. From what you could tell it, was a small three line poem that anyone would overlook if you weren’t paying attention. Lucky enough for you, Lee Felix always paid attention to the paper.

she sits so sweetly

sweater too big on her back

perfect to me

Eyes wondering over the black lettering, you felt your eyebrows furrow. There was no signature and not even a hint of who the poem might be addressed to. It seemed so out of place, yet your curiosity was growing every second.

“Does anyone know who wrote it?” You asked, turning to Felix. The blonde shook his head, pouting slightly.

“I asked Seungmin, but he said that they had just found it on one of the desks in an envelope with a note asking them to publish it,” Felix explained. You sighed, before sliding the paper away from you in favor of getting back to your studying.

“Well, keep me updated. Maybe next time we’ll know who this mysterious poet is, or maybe who he’s writing to.” Felix nodded eagerly, before pulling the paper back towards him and opening it up to read while you continued to study.

Of course, the poem wasn’t dropped there as Felix brought it up to your friends again that night as you hung out in Chan and Changbin’s apartment.

“It’s romantic, for sure. But I feel like it would be even more romantic if the person who it was for actually KNEW it was for them, ya know?” Jisung said as he threw a cheeto in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. You stifled a giggle behind your hand as the cheeto flew back down and hit him in the face, causing him to pout.

“Maybe they wanted to test the waters? See if the person responded well before they actually did anything that might give them away?” Jeongin suggested, before stuffing some M&Ms into his mouth. Seungmin shrugged as he leaned back into his chair.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see if we get any more envelopes.” You sighed, smiling slightly as you leaned back into the couch you were sitting on.

“How nice it must be to have someone write poetry about you. I don’t think anyone would ever do that for me,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing a hand onto your forehead for effect. Minho snorted as he threw a piece of candy at you, causing you to shriek slightly.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a dramatic bitch, people would actually fall for you.” You stuck your tongue out at the older male, crossing your arms with a pout on your face. He was probably right, but there was no need for him to be rude about it.

The next time the mystery poet wrote in the paper, you found out about it way too late at night. Your phone began to buzz incessently as you tried to focus on your paper, to no avail. Finally you gave in and picked up the phone.

“What?”

“Y/N, where are you right now?” Felix’s voice was rushed and enthusastic, and it took all your strength not to groan. How could he be so energetic this late at night, when all you wanted to be doing was sleeping instead of studying for you stupid exam. Seungmin, who had been joining you in your study nights the past few days, looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m at the library with Seungmin. Why?” You replied, rolling your eyes to Seungmin who just snickered. He knew from personal experience that the only person who would give you this reaction so late at night was Felix.

“There was another poem posted in the newspaper! I was gonna tell you earlier but I couldn’t get a hold of you. Stay where you are, I’m on my way.” Felix rushed, before hanging up. You took the phone away from your ear, before looking to Seungmin with an accusing glare.

“There was another poem and you didn’t think to tell me?” You exclaimed, cringing as the librarian shushed you.

“I didn’t think you cared that much. Besides, why would I take away Felix’s gossip? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?” Seungmin chuckled at the pointed glare you sent his way, before you turned back to your paper to try and do some work before Felix got there.

You managed only another 2 paragraphs before Felix came bustling through the doors, trying to be as quiet and fast as possible. He finally crashed into the chair beside you, spreading the paper out before you. You shut your laptop as your eyes scanned the page, trying to find any sight of the poem.

“It’s a good one this time. You’ll have to see it,” Felix said, his grin more of a smirk as he flipped to the next page and pointed his finger at the lines of text that had been imprinted on the page. Your eyes immediately trained on it, scanning over the words in every line like a woman who’s seeing for the first time.

The girl in room 204

with the world on her shoulder

but a smile on her face.

I wish I could be your Atlas

and hold the sky up long enough

for you to take a breath and relax.

But despite the circumstances,

despite her exhaustion from

sleepless nights in the library,

her eyes glow as she talks

even if it is about the most mundane things.

I can’t help but stare and smile,

wondering if she will ever notice

that she means everything to me

and that I would gladly be condemned

to a lifetime of suffering if it meant 

taking your pain for just a little while.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the poem, before you noticed the small print that was sitting underneath the beautiful lines.

-to the girl in room 204 of Levantar Hall

Your heart began to pound and you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face as you reread the tiny tag, the realization only setting in after the 5th time looking it over.

“Holy shit! Felix, these poems are addressed to me!” You exclaimed, turning to look at the bright smile of your best friend. He nodded eagerly as you turned back to the poem, rereading it with this newfound knowledge.

“And you said no one would ever write poetry for you,” Felix teased. You hit him lightly, before taking the paper and shoving it into your bag. You grabbed your laptop, slung your bag over your shoulder, before looking at the boys you were sitting with.

“Sorry gentleman, I have some sleuthing to do,” you said, before rushing out of the library, completely ignorant of the adoration in Seungmin’s eyes as he watched you go.

You spent the next few days waking up extra early and camping out outside of the newspaper office to try and catch the mystery person in action of dropping off their envelope, but you were always met with disappointment as Seungmin came in every morning with no sign of the admirer.

You were a bit bummed about it until you decided to read this week's newspaper and came upon a startling revelation. 

Another poem. 

so close yet so far

she would never know my love

it’s not my nature

You immediately called Felix, who agreed to meet up with you at the nearest cafe to discuss the poem. It wasn’t until you were sitting at a booth, coffees sitting in front of you that a revelation decided to hit you.

“Felix! I’m an idiot!”

“I mean, I know. But how so this time?” Felix said, causing you to throw a playful glare his way. You looked at the poem, before pointing at the poem in the paper and reading the words aloud.

“Okay?” Felix questioned, an eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to explain it all to Felix.

“I know whoever this is, Felix! The words insinuate it’s someone that I know, and someone who is not very affectionate with me!” You said proudly, happy that you had managed to narrow the list down. Felix nodded in understanding.

“So, that leaves only a few people, right? Cause all of your friends are pretty affectionate, outside of Minho and Seungmin, right?” Felix said, and you nodded, before freezing. Minho…. or Seungmin. You didn’t want to immediately jump to any conclusions, but you hadn’t seen anyone outside of the newspaper room outside of Seungmin and, being honest, you kind of wanted it to be him. You had had a crush on Kim Seungmin since freshman year of college and it would be like something out of a novel if it turned out to be him.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s the plan now?” Felix brought you from your daydream as you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. You furrowed your brows in thoughts, before her eyes lit up.

“I know! Felix, I just need to mention something incredibly specific to each of them! Any good writer would take advantage of the creative inspiration and incorporate it into their poem!” you announced, quite proud of yourself for coming up with the idea. Felix thought for a moment before he nodded.

“That’s so stupid, it might just work.” You pouted at his comment, before immediately looking at your phone, seeing the time, and stumbling to get up and rush out.

“I completely forgot I need to meet up with Minho for our project! Phase 1 starts right now!” You rushed out of the coffee shop, Felix laughing behind you as you nearly ran into the door due to your excitement.

True to your plan, while with Minho you brought up the extremely intricate topic of Andromeda and Perseus, a tale which you had learned about a month ago in your Greek Mythology class. You loved the story and thought it was incredibly interesting and a great muse if Minho turned out to be the secret admirer in the paper.

You didn’t see Seungmin for a few days, but that gave you time to think of the perfect topic to bring up to him. You wanted him to be your secret poet so badly and you wanted to make sure you gave him something that would definitely end up inspiring the next poem. It finally hit you as you sat with Seungmin and Jeongin in one of your University’s common areas.

“We learned about the story of Icarus in my Greek class the other day,” you started, making sure to look at Seungmin and see if he was listening to you. Sure enough he perked up, looking up to show you that he was taking in the words that were coming from your lips.

“Essentially, Icarus was the son of this great inventor, Daedalus, and they were both imprisoned in a tower. Daedalus made them 2 sets of wings to escape the tower, but they were made out of feathers and wax. When they were flying to escape, Icarus decided to not heed his fathers words and flew too close to the sun. The wax in his wings melted and he drowned. It’s a sad story, but it tells a tale of curiosity and how being too curious can lead to your downfall,” you explained, noticing how Seungmin had stopped writing as you told your story. Jeongin stared at you with a questioning glance.

“Why would Icarus fly so high if he knew he would die?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. Some say he was just foolish and brash, but I personally like to think Icarus knew what would happen to him, but decided that the ability to be free and live in the excitement for even a moment was worth the consequences he knew would befall him.” Jeongin nodded, obviously thinking about the story. Satisfied with your work, you looked back down at your work, not noticing how Seungmin had flipped to a blank page in his notebook and was jotting down what seemed to be lines of poetry.

It was a few more weeks until another poem was posted, and you were starting to be concerned that the admirer had given up and decided to stop. That was until Felix, as expected, rushed into your dorm one day, completely scaring you out of your concentrated state.

“The poem was posted! And you’ll never believe it, but your plan actually worked!” Your stomach flip flopped as you realized that the moment of truth was about to be upon you. The minute you read the poem that laid in the ink of the school newspaper, you would know who was your secret admirer. Felix handed it to you and as your eyes went to the words, you silently prayed that it was the man you so desperately wanted it to be. 

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

I don’t dare get to close,

even if her gleam,

bright against my rickety feathers,

warms me from the inside out.

I can never tell her how I feel,

I can never say a word,

but if I could I’d tell her she is golden to me.

That she is the heavens,

and I am just a mortal man 

begging for her to let me in,

begging for her to let me love her, 

begging for her to let me praise her,

because God knows that if I could 

I would never stop spilling words of devotion to her.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

My faux wings melt like candle wax

as I force myself closer to her,

because I’d rather fall out of her atmosphere,

then never experience her at all.

Your mouth dropped open as you finished reading the carefully crafted poem, your cheeks heating up and your mind running a mile a minute. It was Seungmin. Your secret admirer was Seungmin.

You rushed out of your dorm, the paper abandoned on your bed as Felix called after you, but you didn’t have any time to stop and explain. You glanced at your phone, realizing that if you made haste, you could catch Seungmin alone in the newsroom before he left for the day. You weaved through the halls of the journalism building, the only thing on your mind getting to the boy who had written some of the most beautiful words about you.

Seungmin was standing outside of the door, locking up the room for the day, when you barrelled down the hallways and basically tackled him into a hug. He grunted as your arms wrapped around him and he stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. You didn’t give him any time to react though, pulling back and staring at him with a smile rivalling the sun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you what?” Seungmin asked, genuinely confused. He had a long day and you weren’t making any sense right now. You rolled your eyes playfully, before looking at him with a smirk.

“That you were Icarus and I was the sun.” Seungmin’s mouth dropped open as you repeated the words he had written back to you. His usually sharp mind was completely blank as he tried to figure out what to say in response to you, but once again you didn’t give him time to think as you pulled him in for another hug.

This time, Seungmin allowed himself to wrap his arms around you in return and give you a squeeze. Months of pining after you and he was finally doing what he had fantasized about so many times. You nuzzled yourself into his neck, giggling as he let out a soft gasp, completely unused to the physical affection you were showing him.

“So, does this mean the poems worked?” Seungmin joked, his cheeks red as you pulled back again. You let out a laugh, nodding happily as you kept your arms slung around his neck.

“Of course! To be honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I was really glad when I found out it was you,” you said, staring at him sheepishly. He smiled softly at you, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What gave it away though?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You really think I just threw all that philosophical stuff about Icarus out there for nothing? I was hoping you’d pick up the clue and use it for some creative inspiration,” you said. Seungmin nodded, feigning a look of impressiveness.

“That’s pretty smart for you.” You punched him lightly in the arm, eliciting a chuckle from the boy as he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers together, leading you down the hallway.

“So, does this mean your poems are going to stop?” you asked, unable to hide the pout in your voice. Seungmin smiled a little bit, giddy that you liked his poems so much.

“I mean, at least the public poems. But I’ll write you all the poems you want in private. But they will be for your eyes only. Can’t let anyone know that I went soft for you,” he said jokingly. You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand as he laughed along with you.

Honestly, you didn’t mind if the poems were public or private. It was more than enough for you that Seungmin was holding your hand right now, speaking words of love that held more meaning than any poem about Icarus ever could.

[zeldaelmo]

Oooh! Okay! I knew some of these but I am really intrigued with fanfic reader!Link and fanfic writer!Zelda! May I request a snippet?

This story is alone @spicychestnut's fault. She had some tags about fanfiction reader!Link under a post of "All the trashy novels" and I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's just a very light-hearted little thing. No angst this time, just fluff and silliness, I promise.

The premise is that Mipha drags Link along to meet her new college friends Purah, Robbie, and Zelda. They go bowling. And Link claims he's good at bowling because...

"So, a Wii U, yes? Nobody has a Wii U."

Zelda drags her index over the bowling balls, deciding which one would suit her.

Link sighs in defeat when he admits the truth, "I have them all. I even play on my DS sometimes."

He waits for her smile to turn polite. Or for her eyes to roll, but they don't. Instead she quirks a brow and grins. "You are a nerd."

"I prefer the term gamer, but whatever." He is prepared to leave her alone, his turn is over for a while now and he doesn't want to be the creep who can't leave the pretty girl alone.

She picks up a pink ball that seams too heavy for her small fingers and looks back at him. She still grins. "Gamer is a bold word for a Nintendo-Nerd."

Effortlessly, she takes a measured step towards the lane, crouches down, and releases the bowling ball. The pins clatter. A strike, of course.

Her grin turns teasing when she catches him glancing at the score and at her. "So, Link... What do you play? Animal crossing?"

He wines inwardly. Why exactly did he tell her about his Nintendo collection? Ah, yes. Because her smile is too pretty to let him think straight. "Legend of Hilda, in case you are familiar."

"Oho, not only a nerd, but a sucker for the Princess/Knight dynamic, yes?" Her eyes twinkle with mirth and he has still no idea what to make out of this conversation. Is she mocking him? But she smiles the whole time and usually when someone catches wind of his antics, they are gone in seconds.

Time to come up with something smart. He likes the puzzles. Or, no, better, the dungeons. Legend of Hilda is famous for the tricky dungeons.

"Well, the Princess/Knight trope is a bon, but what really gets me is the soulmate thing." Link drives both hands through his hair. Something smart!

"Ah, yes, there is something about being cursed to be reborn together over and over again, I'll give you that."

Link nods absently, until his eyes widen. She's a little too well informed, isn't she? Could it be that she - no. Maybe she has watched her brother playing or something.

He guides her back to their places and quashes the urge to lay his hand on her smaller back for support. Well. He doesn't guide her. They just walk there. Maybe he really likes this knight in shining armor thing a little too much.

She sips on the straw of her coke, lips all rosy and lush, when she catches him staring again. Great goddess, she winks at him. She winks!

"What," he begins stuttering, throat dry, "what's your hobby?"

"Oh, I write."

Of course, she would have an intellectual, poetic hobby. Not smashing buttons.

It's easy to picture her, sitting cuddled in a plaid in the nook of a window, her laptop open and a tea mug hugged in her hands. She would gaze in a park-like garden and every now and then she would put down the most poetic words ever written.

"What do you write, if the question is allowed?"

"Short stories." Taking another sip, she leans forward to him so that the others can't hear her. "Well. And porn."

He has problems to keep his own beverage spraying only over his shirt and not on the table. Porn???

She clapps his back until he has mostly recovered, but doesn't give him the opportunity to pester her with questions about that.

"What about you? Are you a reader?"

"Yeah."

"Oh? What genre?" Her hand is still on his back for some reason. Unfortunately, she realizes, gives him a last tap, and withdraws.

Since she's still here, closer than ever with her knee touching his, he steels himself and goes 'all in'. "Fanfiction."

"Legend of...", she begins and he finishes for her, "... of Hilda, yes."

"Oh." That's all she gets out and Link wonders why this gets her more flustered than admitting that she writes porn.

"I know what you think. Fanfiction is only for twelve-year-olds, but there's some really good stuff out there. Look, my favorite author writes the best stories I've ever read. Better than most published writers." He grins and tips his head so that he can nearly whisper in her ear. "Including porn."

Another, "Oh." She shifts on her seat and for a moment he's worried that he has made her uncomfortable. But then she squeezes one eye close and asks, "What's their pen name?"

"Dark Knight of the soul."

She stills. The only thing that moves is the blood that raises from her neck to her face until she sports a flush.

"Zelda?" He touches her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she croakes before she points to the screen that shows the score without watching, "look, it's your turn again."

It isn't. He frowns, but stands up anyway. Where has he gone wrong?

This is a draft. Very obviously I need to include the other characters at least a little bit or it gets weird, but that's the general direction it will take.

Thanks for asking!

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 2)

read Chapter 1 here

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k (exactly the same as last chapter, i’m proud of myself lol)

warnings: just fluff and ~pining~ for now

thanks again to @evnscvll for making this moodboard-- and this series is for her 3k celebration challenge so def check out her writing!

You should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to force yourself to write, but after a quick shower to wash off the day’s journey, you decided there was nothing better to do but sit at the desk and hope for inspiration.

Your husband had never been very supportive of your writing, which is why you had struggled to complete your latest novel.  He, like your publisher and many of your readers, wanted a sequel to your last book, in spite of the fact that you were adamant it was impossible.  It was a complete story, even if the ending was ambiguous.  There was no room for growth in the characters or the world of the story; just because readers wanted more didn’t mean that they would actually enjoy a forced product.

The publisher and your husband, however, shared a very strong opinion: the fans won’t care if it’s forced, and neither should you as long as it sells.  But, they weren’t writers.  You were.  And you knew there were different stories you needed to tell… if only you could find the words for them.

You were a few pages in when you heard the stairs creaking outside your closed door.  There was a quick knock at the door; you answered with an offer to come in.  

“I was just wondering if you wanted some coffee,” Mrs. Alberti explained as she crossed the room, standing beside you at the desk.  You nodded with a quick thank you as she set the cup and saucer down onto the wood.  “Oh heavens, he’s working on the house again,” she suddenly groaned, motioning out the window.  

You leaned over and nearly spit out your coffee when you saw Sebastian outside.  He was only wearing some much-too-tight jeans, driving a hammer down onto wood as the sun cast orange light over his body.  He was glistening with sweat, which was probably pretty uncomfortable for him but he looked damn good anyways.  

“Is he always… like that?” you shuddered.  

“Maybe I didn’t just hire him because he was cheap,” she shrugged, handing you a cloth.  “Go soak this in cold water and bring it to him, he looks overheated.”

You should’ve questioned why she was giving you chores, but you just took the rag and did as she asked.  He didn’t notice you walking out to him at first, but stopped when he did see you, waving quickly and setting down his hammer.

“For the heat,” you explained as you handed it to him.

“Ah, mulțumesc,” he nodded, accepting the rag with a smile.  

As he wiped the sweat from his face, you found your gaze trailing over his arms, down his chest and abdomen.  Jesus, how could this guy eat Mrs. Alberti’s cooking every day and still have washboard abs?  When you looked back up to his face, he was looking right at you with a grin-- oh shit, had he caught you ogling?  But then again, maybe he wanted you to ogle.  Why else would he be doing housework so… shirtlessly?

“Wh-what are you working on?” you asked him to break the silence.  He gave you a puzzled look.  “Er, the wood,” you motioned to the work he was doing, “why?”

His face softened with understanding.  “Construiesc un cadru nou pentru fereastră,” he explained, motioning vaguely to the house, “în partea de est a casei.”

“Right…” you nodded, realizing that you had no idea what he’d said.  Clearly you hadn’t thought this through.

“Aici, permiteți-mi să vă arăt,” he said, grabbing a board and walking past you, motioning for you to follow him as he slung the rag over his shoulder.  You figured you looked like a lost puppy trailing behind him like this.

He stopped when you reached the wall of the house, and grabbed part of the window frame; it creaked and moved as he wiggled it, clearly on the verge of falling off.  Then, he held up the new board he had been hammering and you realized that it was going to replace the rotting portions of the frame.

“A intelege?” he smiled.

“Da!” you answered, and he laughed.

“Cred că asta contează ca român,” he shrugged.

“It’s good you’re fixing the window.  I’m sure Mrs. Alberti appreciates everything you do.”

“Bătrâna îmi plătește rahat, dar sfârșesc trăind aici gratis.”

“Well, I should let you get back to it,” you decided as you stepped back with an uncomfortable smile.

“Nu te voi mai ține, sunt sigur că ești ocupat,” he said, and though you had no real way to interpret it, his tone didn’t seem to indicate that he was trying to stop you from going.

With a little wave and a heavy sense of god why am I such a dork?, you left him and returned indoors.

First nights in new places were always sort of surreal, but this was definitely less weird than the sleeper car of the train.  You’d felt like a proper stowaway then, but you had a stronger feeling of belonging here… even if you didn’t quite feel like you had any place to call home at the moment.

As you laid in bed and looked at the room turned on its side, you found yourself missing your room.  Your real room.  It had been designed and decorated somewhat meticulously, but most of all you missed the things about it that you hadn’t put that kind of thought into: the random earrings on your bedside table, discarded casually before you went to sleep; the layers of blazers and skirts draped over the chair in the corner; the still-slightly-visible coffee stain on the corner of the rug, even though you’d spent hours trying to get it out.

Meanwhile, this room was so obviously not a space that people lived in, but just a space people passed through.  Though nowhere near as sterile as a traditional hotel room, it had the same emptiness even with its personality-- specifically, a reflection of someone else’s personality rather than your own.

All that said, sleeping was pretty easy once you got yourself comfortable in the fluffy mattress, even if you were aware all through the night that you were not at home.  So aware, even, that you weren’t surprised at all when you woke up in the new space for the first time.  What you were surprised by was the sounds of heavy rain against your window, immediately dashing your plans for a morning jog.  As much as it seemed apropos to type by the window instead and soak in the moody weather, you decided to head downstairs for a cup of coffee first.  Already having forgotten where you had left off, you grabbed the pages you'd already written to reread with your breakfast as you slipped on some comfortable clothes and made your way down the creaky steps

Passing through the living area, it was impossible not to notice Sebastian sitting in one of the chairs, staring intently at a half-played chessboard.  Stopping for a moment to try to determine what he was doing, he moved a piece and you realized he must be playing with himself.

Against himself, you interrupted your own thought, he's playing against himself… important distinction.

“You play chess?” you asked, pointing to the board.

“Şah,” he replied.  

You pointed to the chair across from him.  “Can I join you?” 

“Luaţi loc,” he offered as he gestured to it as well, nodding in approval.  You smiled and sat down as he reorganized the pieces back to the starting position.

“Negru?” he asked, pointing to the black pieces-- “Sau alb?”-- he pointed to the white.

“Um, black,” you decided, pointing to them since they were already on your side anyways.

“Tu primul,” he prompted you, and you moved your pawn.  He moved his, and after that, it was long stretches of silence between moves.  It didn’t feel awkward anymore, though; even between two people who share a language, chess is usually a silent affair.

“Check,” you announced as your bishop came into range of his king.  He looked up from the board and gave you a puzzled look.  “The bishop, see?” you demonstrated, tracing a line through the air over the diagonal squares which led from your piece to his.

“Ahh,” he nodded, stroking his chin as he considered his next move.  It called additional attention to the shadow of stubble which dusted over his jaw.  

He maneuvred a rook in the path of your bishop, and you settled back into your chair and you pondered your options.

The next hour went by oddly quickly.  Not in a rushed way, just in a way that made you wonder how it had already been an hour.  

“Şah,” he informed you as his knight threatened your king.  You weren’t sure if it was supposed to mean ‘check’ or ‘checkmate,’ but since you were able to capture his knight with a pawn, it was definitely just a check.

Instead of mourning his knight, he grinned and moved a rook forward, capturing the aforementioned pawn and trapping your king for good.  You gasped a little as you realized you’d fallen right into his trap.

“Şah-Mat,” he declared triumphantly.  That definitely meant ‘checkmate’; you could tell by the smug look on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

“You got me, man, that was sneaky,” you smiled.  Offering your hand for a shake, you looked up at him: “Good game.”

He grabbed your hand and shook it, squeezing just tight enough that you wondered if you were the only one noticing a certain energy to the air.  “Bun joc,” he replied with a nod and a smile.

He let go of your hand after lingering just a little too long, his fingers brushing over yours for an electric moment.

Now the silence was awkward again, as the two of you sat in the high-backed chairs, staring across the table at each other.

“So, you really don’t speak any English at all, huh?” you considered aloud.  He looked back at you vacantly.  “English?  Even one word?” you lifted one finger as a symbol.

“Halloo,” he replied-- apparently a broken attempt at ‘hello.’  You laughed a little.

“Yes, that counts!  Did you learn any English in school?”

“Televiziune,” he replied.  

“Ah yes,” you nodded, “I know what that is.  Television; I’m a big fan myself.”

“Puteți vorbi un singur cuvânt de limba română?” he asked you, raising one finger as well.  Turnabout is fair play, after all.

“You mean other than ‘da’?  Or ‘salut’?” you asked with a laugh.

“Pentru a fi corect, acestea sunt cuvinte,” he shrugged.

“Teach me,” you requested.  “Just one word.”  

You looked around the room, settling on a lamp.  “What is this?  In Romanian-- română?” 

“Lampă,” he replied.

“Okay, well, that one isn’t very exciting,” you frowned.  “Um, what about this?” you bent down from your chair, picking up one corner of the rug.

“Covor,” he answered, leaning down with you to run his hand over the soft shag.

“Covor,” you repeated, surely butchering it.

“Da,” he smiled.  Okay, maybe you didn’t butcher it so bad, or maybe he was just being nice.  

“Can you teach me more?” you asked, hoping it wasn’t too demanding.

“Uhhh,” he stalled, looking around the room.  Finally, he pointed to the fireplace.  “Vatră.”

“Vatră, fireplace,” you tried to memorize it as he said it.

You pointed to the window.  “What’s the window called?”

“Fereastră.”

You pointed to the stairway.  “Scară,” he informed you, smiling a little.  You hoped this wasn’t boring for him, because you were actually having a bit of fun.

You pointed to his feet.  He furrowed his brow a little and lifted one, grabbing his shoe.  You nodded; “Pantof,” he explained.

You grabbed your blouse and shook it a little, appreciating the puffs of cool air that rolled down your chest;  “Bluză.”

You pointed to him; “Sebastian.”

You already knew that, but it was interesting to hear the way he said it versus Mrs. Alberti’s pronunciation.  “Yes, that’s an English name too,” you told him, “but pronounced differently…”

You wondered if your name had another pronunciation or translation, so you pointed to yourself; “Frumoasă,” he said, a little slower, a little more thoughtfully.

“Is that the Romanian equivalent to my name-- or does it mean ‘woman’?” you asked.  He just smiled vacantly.  

“This,” you pointed to the book, “what is this called?”

“Carte,” he answered.  “Engleză?”

“Book,” you replied.

“...book…” he said slowly, contemplatively.

Suddenly inspired, you grabbed the loose pages of manuscript that you’d laid on the small table beside you.  “Book,” you repeated, flipping through the pages.  He seemed confused.  “My book,” you clarified, pointing back and forth from yourself the papers.  “I’m writing this-- that’s why I’m here.”

“Ah!” his face lit up with recognition.  “Ar trebui să scrii o carte!”

“Yeah,” you nodded.  “I’m a writer; or, I’m trying to be.  My last book did… better than my first, at least.”  

“Ce fel de carte este?” he asked.  You looked at him with confusion to indicate you weren’t sure what he was asking.  “Uhh, book… este--” he made a sad face, rubbing under his eyes like a cartoon character’s weeping-- “sau--” he fake-laughed.

You laughed, actually, at his charades.  “It’s a thriller, it’s crime--” you thought for a moment, then made the motion of stabbing someone with a knife. 

His eyes got wider.  “Este… erotic?” 

You choked a little, realizing that your hand movement was… more ambiguous than you originally intended.  “No!” you blurted out suddenly.  “No, it’s… crime, mystery--” 

You looked around and saw a magnifying glass resting on the side table by your chair; grabbing it, you held it to your face and gave your best quizzical look.

“Oh!  Crimă!” he grinned.  “Detectiv?”

“Yes, yes, there’s a detective,” you sighed satisfactorily, “and absolutely no handjobs.”

~

shamelessly tagging the people who liked chapter 1!  @mariahthelioness29 @navybrat817 @navegandoaciegas @mandalorianspace @2smittinkittin @maizyistrash @honeygingergemini​ 

[glowstickhaloboy]

me just straight up posting key novel scenes because the idea of this ever getting published is So Not Real to me

“You’re worried about people abandoning you?” said Peter.

Colin outright laughed. It was such a miserable version of the bubbly, earnest sound Peter had come to know from him.

“It’s the other way around,” Colin said, swirling a finger through the air like he was trying to stir up a fog. Then he gave a hard shrug. “If you figured it out, then yeah, you may as well know. The problem’s not with everyone else. They’re the normal ones. The problem is me. I leave. I’m the one who—hurts people. Over and over again.”

Peter tried to remember the things Colin had said in his bedroom that day, but his mind was frustratingly empty of anything besides the way it had felt to sit and be left there. His mouth was dry, his palms sweaty.

He said the only thing he could think of that was utterly true. “I don’t think you’re a problem. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

Colin crossed his arms and shrugged again. “Thanks.”

He didn’t believe him.

And Peter didn’t know how to make him believe him.

“I…” he said, feeling so unsure of himself, “I think I could leave behind anything I wanted to. There’s a part of me that just shuts down any kind of want before it has the chance to hurt. I think I get it.”

For a moment, it seemed like Colin would not reply. He was incredibly still, except for his fingers, which flexed carefully up and down on his biceps like they wanted to squeeze. “When I do it, it’s because there’s this building panic in me that everything’s wrong. Like I’m not where I’m supposed to be, or something, or making the wrong choice. Like, if I stay in one place for too long, I feel like I’m gonna run out of air. Like someone’s gonna die.”

“How long have you been with Antoinette?”

Colin twinkled the fingers of one hand. “Five years. But that’s different, she doesn’t put any pressure on me to stay. She knows it’s just temporary.”

Temporary. Yeah.

Peter sat down on the ground with his back against the bridge rail. Colin did not join him.

What Peter wished, more than anything in that moment, was to know nothing of the word. You weren’t born in this town, but you’re stuck here. You once had a family, but you shouldn’t speak to them now. You’re doing well in school, but you’ll leave it behind after a year. You won’t feel this way forever, but someday you’ll feel worse.

You won’t even always have your mother.

But you’ll have her for a while.

“Did you run away?” Peter asked. He refused to acknowledge where the question had come from. It must have jogged even Colin, because he leaned over to check on Peter.

“Yeah,” he said.

Again, Peter found himself staring off rather than facing the conversation. He looked without blinking at the dirty, upright roots of a distant fallen tree. He was clenching his jaw.

“How bad did it hurt?”

Finally, Colin sat beside him, and he too looked dead ahead. “I’ve never regretted it.”

“Do you—”

“But you and me are different, Peter,” he said firmly. “You have a family that wants you here! You have reasons to stay, trust me.”

“I’m me, not you. If you want to convince me to stay, you’ll have to tell me exactly how we’re different. What happened with you?”

Peter wasn’t shielding his intent anymore, and neither was Colin. Colin was upset. Peter didn’t usually make people mad, but… it felt good to pick a fight. He wanted Colin to blow up on him, try to cut him down with every insult he could think of, get physical, start shoving. Colin did none of those things.

He considered Peter with a nervous, almost skeptical expression, and asked, “You’re really thinking about running away?”

“I hate being me,” Peter said.

The words felt like they were spoken by a stranger deep within him. It could have been a possession, it sounded so unnatural. He had never let those thoughts come close before. He’d never wanted to give them even an inch.

Colin frowned deeply, stood up, and offered Peter his hand. 

“The next time your house is empty, pack a bag.”

Peter shoved down the venom still curling in his throat and helped himself to stand.

[youarejesting]

Kookies, Trojans & Malware

[Sparks Masterlist]

[Tag Yourself]

Beta: @nightshadevinter​ Pairing: Robot!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, Action, Adventure, Romance. Words: 7.6k

Summary: Jungkook is a robot police officer. He obeys and upholds the laws. After mistaking you for the criminal you open up his world and soon he is ready and willing to break the law for you.

You were making an honest living selling romance novels and the latest was about a robot carer and a sick human; right at the end there was a hint of love. Having just got off the phone with your publisher, the story had gone viral. Everyone was asking for a robot-human love story, but you didn't know if you could write about that without having written from a robot’s perspective. You hadn't even met a robot outside of general shopping or passing them by on the street. 

You really liked the idea but wished you had some sort of extensive interaction with a robot. But this wasn’t the case. Your phone alarm went off, you had to pay rent, before the landlord called. But when you checked your bank there was a strange transaction going into your bank. It was from two days ago for a huge sum of 50,000,000KRW

This was super strange, you wondered why the police or bank hadn’t been calling or breaking down your door. That must only happen in movies, you turned back to your computer. The door was kicked open smashing into the wall beside you, making you squeak with shock as the place was flooded with police officers holding guns.

Restrained by someone you heard them recite your rights, "Good evening, I, police officer, robot division, Jeon Jungkook have come to place you under arrest for suspected fraud. Anything you say or do can be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you can't afford one, one will be given to you. I am a robot police officer..." he spoke through the whole spiel. 

You sighed exasperated, this isn't what you had in mind when you said you wanted to interact with a robot. "I am always recording, if you are uncomfortable with a robot police officer I will step aside and let my fellow officers take over"

You blinked slowly as he walked you out the hall, it wasn’t much of an apartment and the old lady next door peaked out her door to watch you get taken away. They would definitely talk while you were away. "We will head to the patrol vehicle and take you back to the station where we will interrogate you"

"Wait sir, uh... robot man, my cat?" You said, making him stop and look down at you whilst trying to process the meaning of your words. She was an odd cross-eyed most of the time but you loved her, she could hardly take care of herself while you were there. How would she survive on her own? You would implore to bring her with you.

"Your cat?" The robot repeated as a meow was heard behind you. He turned eyes wide looking at the animal who had stepped into the hallway "What about your feline companion?"

"Well, we can't let her get hurt, can I take her with me?" You asked, looking up at him hopeful, “She is only a little baby.”

"I am unsure?" He tilted his head, you could practically see him searching for an answer in his hard robes. The lights scanning past his eyes were an indication of his exploration of protocols and policies when it came to pets.

"If you leave a defenseless animal on their own they will die. Isn't a police officer's job to protect?" You countered hoping his system would understand that. You had never tried to outsmart a robot but you thought you could make a compelling argument.

He paused again, thinking over your words, before nodding, "Obtain your feline companion and we shall continue the arrest" He uncuffed your wrists but held them firmly in his hands making you look up at his stern eyes. “I am warning you if you try to run I will have to restrain you.

You grabbed your cat packing a small bag of food, and a small bag of litter, and a clean tray. Watching the officers in your apartment taking your things for evidence. Taking the cat and scooping her into the small cat carrier you walked back over to officer Jeon, “I must cuff you as is procedure, but I assure you, the animal will not be harmed."

You placed down the cage holding your hands behind your back letting him re-cuff your wrists. He leaned down gently picking up the cage his large hand secured around the handle. He guided you along and you tried to turn back to study him some more, "mister robot man?"

"My name is cyber office Jeon Jungkook." He looked straight ahead and you smirked at the professional personality programmed into his hard drives. The cat made a small meow and he adjusted the cage holding it in a way that kept it still as he walked.

"Sorry, um I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions later?" This would be an amazing opportunity to gather intel about robots for your next story. He was handsome and moved with such poise, there was a faint hum under his skin like the buzz of electricity in the air when your apartment got quiet.

"You have the freedom and right to speak" he smiled, you saw the Police cruiser just across the street and headed for it but he pulled you to the right and the two of you were walking away from the vehicle and down the street.

“Are we walking to the station?” You laughed sarcastically.

“No, though I am equipped with GPS and am fully charged and able to walk to the police station, I feel it would be much more comfortable for humans and more time-efficient to take the police cruiser parked across the road, driven by officer Han” He replied seriously gesturing to the very same police cruiser you were walking away from.

"It was sarcasm,” You snorted, “If that is your car, why are we walking away? where are you going?"

"To the intersection, Jaywalking is illegal" He sighed, checking on the animal which was moving around the carrier “I apologize I don’t often pick up human nuances. Perhaps you would be so kind as to teach me more?”

"Okay..." You hummed, the two of you finally reached the pedestrian crossing, you went to cross but he didn't budge, making you fall back and hit his broad chest "What, why did you stop?"

"We must wait for the pedestrian light to turn green indicating that it is safe to cross," He said as if he was reciting it for children and you rolled your eyes. 

"You follow every rule?" You questioned his dedication to the cause.

"I follow all rules." he said with a definite tone like he couldn’t be swayed.

"So what happens if the light is red but across the street, there was a man stealing a woman's handbag. You would have to wait for the light to turn green before crossing and pursuing the criminal and by that time he would have gotten away and may have even killed someone. When you could have captured him and saved lives and stopped more crimes. I mean really are you not aiding and abetting the criminal by watching them getaway.”

You saw him process this information until the light turned green, the symbol of the walking man prompting the robot to walk briskly across the road. As you walked back to the car you laughed “Your police officer friends are Jaywalking, you should write them a ticket.”

“My fellow police officers are the exception, I cannot turn against them,” He said, seeming to not understand this element of his instructions either.

“So if your fellow officers go rogue and shoot someone innocent you let them, they need to uphold the law so they should be the prime example, should they not?” 

“I don’t know, I must ask the sergeant and review my policies and procedures” You both finally got to the car, officer Jeon opened the door placing the cat down on the curb and turning to you, "you must sit in the back. Please mind your head"

He placed his hand over your head and guided you into the vehicle and even leaned over to buckle you in. "I will place your cat in the seat next to you" You were soon on your way to the police station. Where you were ushered into the interrogation room with Jungkook who held your cat carrier and bag.

The interrogation began and you were told to answer truthfully. 

“What is your name?” Officer Jeon asked with no writing or recording impliments.How was he recording your answers? Was he literally recording your answers?

“How about this, I will answer one of your questions, officer, and you answer one of my questions.” You asked curiously.

“What is your name, miss?” he asked again.

“My name is (Your full name),” You said and he nodded just as he opened his mouth to speak you asked your question quickly, “How do you record my answers without a pen and paper or laptop, and when you record my answers how does it get into the police system?” 

He didn’t answer looking at you and you leaned forward, “Come on it was my turn you have to be fair,”

“I am completely fair and just” he sat up straighter how that was possible for the prim and proper robot your would never know, “I record everything, it is saved on my system and the back up system whilst also being wirelessly sent to the national system where it is filed and finally everything is live fed to the bureau.”

“That’s really nifty. So you are recording everything now, where from?” You looked him up and down.

“That was more than one question miss y/n, I thought you were being fair and just, I am recording everything,” he raised one finger with a smirk and gesticulating another as he continued, “my eyes are the camera and my ears record everything I hear. That is two questions for me.”

“Correct,” You leaned in a little more intrigued further by his systems and personality and all that they entailed. He asked how old you were and where you lived and you answered leaning a little more over the desk. “What do you like to do?”

“What?” He looked shocked

“Hey you can’t answer a question with a question,” You pouted and he shut his mouth processing the meaning of your words, “You can just ask me to explain you don’t have to search everything. What do you like to do? it means like what are your hobbies?”

“Officer Han likes playing poker” He said slowly

“No, I asked what you like to do, not him,” You laughed at his expression. He seemed stumped “Like when you aren’t working.”

“I am always working and when I am not working I am charging” He said “Now, I have some questions about the recent activity in your bank…”

You were shocked all he knew was work and sleep, it was uncommon for humans to only know these two traits as well but you hoped he got to do something.

“Have you ever watched a movie?” You blurted out and he froze in the middle of reciting dates to you.

“I have obtained information from many movies, I understand pop culture references and have a list of top one hundred famous movie quotes in my system.”

“But have you seen them, like at a movie theatre?”

“No I haven’t.” He said looking impassive but you felt a little upset, sure he was a robot but that didn’t mean he had to spend his entire life working. You had no more questions for him after that finding you were a little scared to find out more. 

You were made to stay overnight in the cell. It was nice for a cell, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in but you, the bedding was freshly washed and pressed. What fancy cell was this? “It’s nice huh, at night Jungkook washes all the bedding and when he wakes up he makes the beds.”

“Is he allowed holidays?” You asked, “He only works, haven’t you tried to let him see other things outside of work.” 

“I am afraid he wouldn’t understand it, he is meticulous with his programs and doesn’t understand many other concepts.” The man said, watching officer Jeon walk over with a tray of food, “Good job Jungkook, you did a wonderful job”

“Hey officer Jeon, would you like to sit and have dinner with me?” You sat on the floor and gestured to the floor in front of you, he tilted his head.

“I don’t eat food miss y/n,” He smiled “I am a robot,”

“What do robots eat?” you grinned curiously, he ran off and came back with a bottle of something.

“Everyday I drink this liquid and every night before recharging I expel the old liquid, it keeps everything running smoothly.” He smiled pouring himself a cup.

“Well come sit with me and we can eat together,” You gestured and he sat smiling and you held up your cup and he held up his and you clicked glasses. Something flickered in his eyes. 

You watched him take a long drink as you took a sip and he stopped pulling the glass back down, swallowing thickly. He held the cup looking at the liquid inside and whenever you would take a sip he would drink a little more liquid.

The two of you were talking all night and you had finished your food and drink but he still held the cup sipping slowly watching you tell him about how you were afraid of trains, because when you were a kid you had been left on a train and bad things happened. “You have been holding that empty cup for ten minutes now Jungkook, you can’t fool me. Oh! I mean Officer Jeon.”

“It’s okay, I finished after you told me about the story about the sick human and the robot caregiver.” He grinned, “I liked that one, it is nice to see the robot caregiver being able to help the sick human.”

“You are getting tired, Miss y/n, it’s time to sleep” He said softly as you stood walking the tray to the door of the cell and he took the tray and left. You got into the bed and officer Jeon sat at his desk plugging a cord into his arm. You saw his shoulders slump indicating that he had powered down to charge and you closed your eyes falling asleep.

 ~

The next morning brought with it your discharge from the overnight cells, the officers thanked you for your cooperation and gave you a card in case you needed to contact them. Officer Jeon and Han drove you back to your apartment.

Officer Jeon insisted on carrying the cat carrier up the stairs. It seemed when the officer had woken up, your cat had snuck out of her cage and slept on his lap. The two continued to play throughout the morning and when you woke it almost seemed like the robot police officer was a little brighter.

You arrived at your apartment and watched as he tried to find where to put the cage. He was so endearing, you were going to ask even though you think you knew the answer. “Would you like to go to the movies with me, to watch a movie?”

He was snapped out of his dilemma of where to put the cage looking almost regretful, as he was about to turn you down. You took a deep breath, and opened your mouth to downplay it as just a friendly offer to get him away from work when a screeching of tires sounded outside your apartment. 

The two of you ran to the window and saw Officer Han shot down. There were beeping sounds coming from the robot officer and you looked at him horrified. “I just called for backup. Stay here and I will restrain them.” He said and the men started shouting and running into the building.

You heard them say your name and you knew his robot ears did too, “You are in danger. Do everything I tell you and stay behind me.” He looked at the cat cage and went to go out the apartment door and you caught his hand, “Follow me down the fire escape?”

The two of you got out and ran to the police car, Han’s was still alive, but barely. “Move him to the back seat, we will take him to the hospital” You whispered, trying not to panic., “Can you drive?”

“Well yes, but I can’t do car chases its against the law, that's why Han’s drives” He said, 

“Okay, Jungkook I need you to get in the passenger seat and close your eyes and don’t open them until we get there, I want you to get a GPS to the hospital and turn on the sirens” He nodded 

“Go straight.” You took off and the sirens were put on, true to his word he kept his eyes shut allowing you to maneuver through the traffic and got to the hospital stopping in the emergency bay. “We are here. Can I open my eyes?” 

“No wait,” you moved around the car and opened his door as the doctors ran out to grab officer Han. Leaning over Jungkook you took off his seat belt looking up. You got lost in his features, they were so smooth and his eyelashes were so long and you wanted to touch his hair. You let out a shaky breath and he seemed to feel it against his cheek, the cat carrier on his lap stirred and a meow was heard between you.

His eyes drifted open and focused on you, you were flustered. “I am in trouble, I am getting orders to return. They are wondering why I left the scene of the crime, I don’t know why I listened to a civilian. It went against all the policies and procedures, you broke the law.” He pushed the cat carrier into your hands and drove you back to the station. 

“Officer Jeon, you defied orders and you left a crime scene, let the two gunmen get away, can you explain why this is?” The sergeant said, you sat in the corner as a suspect to this crime and you had to give a statement regarding officer Han’s shooting.

This was it you were going to get in trouble for saving a police officer, “When I saw officer Han, I just moved instinctively to save him.” Your mouth fell open, he just lied, he cyber police officer Jeon Jungkook just lied to the sergeant, isn’t that against everything he stands for.

“I want you to hand over the footage of this incident?” The sergeant said

“There is none” He said “My wires shorted out and there is no footage from getting in the car to getting to the hospital”

Another lie. What is happening?

“Jeon Jungkook, you are going to be scheduled for maintenance at the end of the month.” The sergeant said “You are off active duty until then”

After all the more important officers left, Jungkook slumped into his chair. “Officer Jeon, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get taken off duty. I just wanted to save your partner officer Han, he was going to die”

“I don’t know what to do for twenty-one days, sixteen hours, forty-three minutes and eleven seconds. Ten seconds” He stated with no emotion, “Nine seconds.”

“You could come stay with me, my cat already loves you. Plus what if those guys come back,” You smiled and he looked up at the two of you before nodding. Grabbing a small supply of the special liquid he drinks the two of you took a taxi back to your apartment. 

~

Jungkook looked around; he wasn’t wearing his uniform but instead was wearing a tracksuit. Looking him up and down you laughed, “First we need to find you some clothes. I am pretty sure I have some old clothes of my dad’s, I couldn’t part with them all these years so now I guess I can finally get some use out of them.” 

You found him a button up and some dress pants and he went to get changed. When he stepped out you could help but tear up a little, “What is wrong?” Jungkook strode across the room and looked at you, “Have I done something to offend you or make you upset?”

“No, no” you sniffed, laughing at his over the top reaction. “I just miss my father.”

“Where is he?”

“He passed away a few years ago,” You said and Jungkook seemed to slowly process that information but struggled to comprehend the extent of the feeling.

“I am sorry for your loss,” He sighed, “I wish humans were like Robots, there are rarely any deaths, just missing data that can be restored. I don’t think I could ever truly understand permanent death.”

“Imagine the people you love and care for, your friends and people you work with and you are having a great time and death is never having that again,” It was an odd way of explaining it but you think it summed it up well enough. Jungkook’s eyes flashed and he nodded seeming to file the information away to review.

You took Jungkook out. it was his first day off and you were going to make it special, dragging him to the movies you tried to find something fairly new that his internet filled head wouldn’t have seen. If Jungkook was all about the law he wouldn’t be watching bootlegs on the dark web.

You pulled him into a romantic comedy, part of it was because you wanted to watch it and another part was for research to see how Jungkook would act. He seemed engaged watching the couple fall in love with their little awkward moments.

There was a scene where the main character and the love interest were locked in a gaze. It made your heart beat quickly, it was such a heavy feeling. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably and you wondered if he felt it.

After the movie the two of you headed to an aquarium and after the aquarium you were heading home when you passed a busker and you started dancing giving them some money and laughing as you swayed to the beat. Dragging Jungkook to dance with you, he seemed a little nervous but you were quick to praise him. His eyes locked on the Robot with a shirt that read ‘hope world’ dancing and he analysed the moves joining in. 

The two of you headed home and you ordered yourself some dinner. The two of you sat down while he drank and you talked about the movie. “Why did it get slow when the two of them locked eyes?” Jungkook asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room you had wanted to bring up. 

“Well when you fall in love with someone it's like your heart speeds up but everything stops working and all you can think about is that someone.” You said he processed it, eyes flashing, it was like neither of you wanted to go to bed. You had started watching ‘Circuit Chef’ the host was hilarious and he had a new sidekick who really livened up the show.

“I didn’t know robots could do other things” Jungkook said “I just assumed we were all the same, but after reading your book and looking around I can see robots have many functions, but why can’t we have all of them? Humans can do anything they want but us Robots are only programmed to do such a small portion.”

“I want to be human, I want to do everything, try everything” he sighed, “Now that I am off duty I can’t even uphold the law or I will get in trouble, I am just a basic command robot.”

“Then I command you to try everything you ever wanted to do, act like a human.” Yawning, Jungkook looked at you, seeing how your eyes were closed and your head had fallen onto his shoulder. He thought you were asleep, he scooped you up and your eyes opened. 

“I am sorry I thought you were asleep,” He apologized but continued walking you to the bed, he laid you down tucking you in. Jungkook paused for a moment searching for something in your expression, a flash in his eyes and he stood straight up and scrambled looking at his forearm, “I have to go charge.”

You couldn’t be sure if you dreamt it but for a moment there you thought maybe he was going to kiss you, whatever it was you had fallen asleep before you could dwell on it further. 

~

The next day you woke to a delicious smell in the kitchen and when you stepped out Jungkook had made a range of meals and when he saw you he smiled brightly. “Look what I made, I can cook like Circuit chef Kim Seokjin.”

“That’s really good, did you cook everything in the house.” You sat down eating some of the dishes and grinning. “Wow, kookie this is tasty.”

“What did you call me?” He asked, pausing in the middle of mixing some batter. The frilly apron he was wearing looked cute on him. 

“I called you Kookie, it’s a nickname,” looking at all the food you frowned, “Kookie, you have to put the food into dishes and pack it away in the fridge and freezer for me to eat over the next year.”

“That is a joke,” He pointed at you and chuckled, “I have been learning about jokes from Robot Hyung Kim Seokjin,”

“I’m glad you have been having fun?” You grinned at the young man in your kitchen, noticing some flour in his hair, wondering if that would ruin how soft it looked. “Wait, stay still you have flour in your hair?”

“Lean down a little, okay, stay there,” The flour had been wet when it had touched the few affected strands, now it was dry and reminded you of papier-mâché. 

You gently removed it and ran your fingers through his soft tresses trying to dust away any loose strands of flour, or at least that was the excuse you were using. Jungkook didn’t even seem to notice, he sat there bent slightly, his head in front of your face, his eyes looking down. 

You moved his head around and looked at his fringe making sure there was no flour there. “Are you waterproof?”

“Yes,” he grinned, looking you in the eyes you felt your heart skip a beat as you watched his lips form the next words. “I take showers at the station once a week unless told otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“I think you may need to shower when you finish cooking?” You said and went to the bathroom, to get him a towel and everything. Jungkook stepped into the bathroom and began taking off his shirt and you turned away. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked, folding up the shirt and placing it on the bench. 

“Nothing, I will let you shower,” you left, hoping your cheeks hadn’t reddened further. You heard the water running and let out a sigh, he was busy for now. 

The food was better than anything you could make and you were a great cook, so it was hard to admit. It was also hard to pack away when you were running out of Tupperware and fridge space. 

“I am done,” Jungkook called, as you slipped the last container into the fridge.  

“Kookie no more cooking today there is no room” you laughed, pressing the door to the fridge closed with all your strength until finally the door sealed shut. “I need to be able to eat all of this first.”

Turning you saw Jungkook standing with only a towel around his waist, you squealed, slapping your hands over your eyes. “What are you doing, half naked in the living room?”

“I had no more clothes,” He paused “Should I put those clothes back on?”

“No, I will find you some more,” You handed him some more of your fathers clothes and you left the room so he could change, undisturbed. That didn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder. 

Jungkook was ripped, his body literally made to perfection, his back was so broad. He was built lean and yet his biceps were the size of your calves. You sat on the couch, closing your eyes and indulging in the sight that you had been blessed with.

You shouldn’t be thirsting over a robot? But it was so hard not too when he looked like he was an actual adonis. You took a few breaths in an attempt to still your beating heart, and opened your phone, you began searching news websites for information of Robots being weird.

Nothing had been posted except an advertisement for an experiment trial with robots designed for personal pleasure. You quickly close that tab not wanting to think about that any further. You had almost given up hope until you saw it.

My Robot is acting weird.

It was a reddit forum and you were quick to jump on and read the stories of robots doing things that they weren’t programmed to do and questioning things. Acting dare you say it? Human. It was a scary thought but you weren’t the only one who thought the same. Someone had said that their robot was developing feelings and emotions and becoming more human per day.

Jungkook exited the room and shuffled nervously. Was he programmed to be a little shy? One would hope not, being a police officer. Maybe this was what they meant on the forum? Or, maybe you were reading too far into it? Yes that had to be it.

You took Jungkook through the town and the two of you stopped by a bar. It was a modern style and super clean, you found a booth and sat down, The waiter was a long legged robot who moved so elegantly and you were lost for a moment in his movements.

“Good evening, can I take your order?” He said his voice soft and sweet like an angel. You felt your ears go warm and you asked for a glass of wine. You were really only here to let Jungkook experience everything he wanted and he did wonder earlier about what it was like to drink at a bar. “And should I get you some oils or coolants sir?”

“No thank you,” Jungkook huffed, turning away, the waiter wilted at the rudeness and nodded leaving the table.

“Jungkook, why were you being so rude?” You asked looking at him and he blanched, you could see he wasn’t happy but you couldn’t figure out why. All you did was order wine from the attractive robot waiter. Wait. Was he jealous? Because you were ogling the waiter?

“I am not being rude, I just don’t want any cheap coolant or oils, I only drink the best” He puffed up his chest and lifted his chin turning away. He was like a petulant child. While waiting for your drink you began writing the outline for your story and sending it to the editor to liaison to the publishing company, seeing if it was worthy to write.

Your drink was bought back and you saw Jungkook bristle again. “Um, I am sorry if I offended you, my name is Jimin and over there is my owner and the love of my life, I wasn’t trying to hit on your girlfriend or anything?”

Jungkook almost visibly relaxed and the two started talking quickly in a series of beeps that made you giggle writing down a few more dot points for your next book. Jimin left with a wave and a thank you toward you both and he went back to the counter. 

You saw him kiss the bartenders cheek and he pouted when the bartender shrugged him off to focus on her work. Jungkook watched the two happily and you stood up, “Excuse me Jungkook, I just want to talk to the bartender, is that okay?”

He nodded as you were walking to the bar when Jimin passed holding glasses of coolant, one for each robot. Sitting at the bar you smiled “Hey, do you mind if I ask some questions about your robot?”

“What do you want to know?” She looked up, handing a drink over to a customer who went and sat down. It was a monday so it was pretty quiet. 

“I was wondering if he has done anything strange, something he isn’t programmed to do or even started developing thoughts, ideas and feelings?” You said, “That robot is a police officer who physically cannot break the law and yet he did it for me, he lied to protect me and not two seconds ago got jealous of your robot, this isn’t normal behaviour, he isn’t programmed for any sort of relationship personality traits.”

“Half a month ago Jimin had a drink thrown at him, he went funny, I had programmed him to be gentle and kind and he shouted and practically threw some people out the bar. I did some maintenance and he told me he wanted to be my robot companion, you know the type?” She gave you a look and you flushed nodding. “After that I found out he was doing his own maintenance and upgrading, he has become so free now, he told me the programs made him feel limited”

“That’s exactly what Jungkook said, he said that he wanted to be human and not just one program, he was a police robot who never had a day off, had no hobbies installed and only worked and slept.” You explained stressing the simplicity of his systems. “Now, he likes to cook and dance and he wants to go see an art exhibition tomorrow and he is getting jealous and nervous, things he has never expressed before”

“That does sound odd,” She hummed “I have been thinking it for a while now and I heard someone may have an explanation but I haven’t had time to find them, perhaps because I am scared of what I am going to hear”

She slipped you a napkin with an address and looked up, “His name is Hitman Bang, he used to create robots and then something happened, that’s all I know?”

You returned home and began writing but not for the story, you started documenting everything you found, experiences and more. You were going to go to the art gallery tomorrow and then afterwards you would go see this mysterious man for information.

~

The next morning you woke early and got dressed, Jungkook was sitting on the couch waiting for you and he smiled face lighting up when he noticed you walk in. Giving a soft meow, your cat had lifted its head from his lap.

“Good morning,” The greeting was laced with excitement, you felt like you were on the edge of a discovery and you wanted to see it through until the end. The two of you were ready to see the art exhibition, it was from a university and there were many entrants who submitted their work.

Buying tickets at the door, Jungkook frowned, “In movies the man usually pays for things?” You turned to him a little shocked and also a little amused.

“Back in the day it was the man who earned money and the woman was locked up inside their house to do nothing but cook clean and have children. So men paid for everything.” You spoke softly, “Then women were allowed to work and vote but they were paid less than men and nowadays that still sometimes happens but in some places it is equal wage and that means I can buy things myself.”

“Oh,” He processed the information and searched a few things in his head, “This seems like something discussed a lot online, I am glad I have seen this side of things. I would like to thank you for using your money on me, I wish I had money so that I could pay for my own things as well”

“You don’t get paid!” You were outraged, he worked everyday of the year since he was manufactured and they didn’t pay him, didn’t let him enjoy anything fun. “Jungkook what is your birthday?” 

“I wasn’t born, I am a robot,” the word robot almost sounded bitter. “I was manufactured on the first of September”

“That was a few months ago, I am sorry I missed it, have you ever had a birthday party or gotten any gifts?” He stopped for a moment before he had completed his research online and turned back to you shaking his head. “Alright well I know it’s late but I will give you one birthday wish, you can ask for anything you want?”

The two of you finally reached the inside of the gallery past the lobby and Jungkook’s eyes met a code on the door that had information from the artists of each piece and their inspiration. He walked through and began explaining it all to you and it made you smile. Linking your arm with his, you laid your head on his shoulder and continued walking slowly.

He stopped, looking at the painting and he was frozen examining it. “This is beautiful.” He whispered, you looked at the painting it didn’t seem like much, just random overlapping shapes in strange colours. “It was painted by a robot named Taehyung, he says he fell in love with painting after a young woman taught him how. The next part is written in binary code but I can translate it. 

“My hair shows my basic emotions but this is a painting representing my love for the woman who taught me how to paint. When she kisses me it feels like my engines will explode. My system has a folder of her and everyday I file away new information.” He touched his chest and turned to you. The two of you walked to the address on the napkin, each stride ate the city ground away and you were in some less populated suburban streets. 

You passed a small advertisement of a woman kissing a man holding a bouquet of flowers, it was for a florist and Jungkook stopped underneath it. Taking his bicep in your hand you tried to offer him comfort without swooning over the size of his biceps. “Jungkook is everything okay?”

“Do you know how you said I had a birthday wish,” Jungkook looked at you, “I think I know what I want to try?”

“Okay, what do you want to try?” He leaned down and kissed you. It was awkward at first the way he was bent and just pressing his lips to yours but, he seemed to jolt, his engines beeping and his auto air compression units hissed to life. 

Jungkook’s hand cupped the back of your head and he tilted his head the opposite way and deepened the kiss naturally. He pulled away looking panicked and he ran off. You were frozen unsure if you should follow him or not, but you decide he is pretty good and knows how to fight and protect himself.

Ringing the doorbell a voice came over the intercom, “Name and business?” the voice stated. It sounded like a tired but refined man and you were a little nervous. The house though in an average neighborhood was quite posh.

“My name is Y/n and I was told you might have information as to why my robot is acting weird?” Your voice cracked giving away your nerves and he sighed the gate buzzing open. 

“Come in.”

Walking briskly to the front door you felt dwarfed by the sheer size of the house, it was almost laughable the grandeur design and the ostentatious presence it gave. The door was opened electronically and you moved inside taking off your shoes. “Good afternoon, my name is Hitman Bang, what is it you want to know?”

“I am in possession of a Police officer robot who has no other programs features or hobbies only his police programing, he has developed hobbies and interests without upgrades or downloads and he um, just kissed me and ran away outside the florist down the road?”

“I see,” He hummed leaning forward, “Let me tell you a story,”

He began telling you about a robot he programmed. “It was while I was working at Spark’s industry. His name was Lee-Hyun. He was the first love companion robot that was made, he was perfect and could be tailored to anyone's desires. He fell in love with a researcher that worked there, her name was Dae. He found out Dae was getting married and caught her and her fiance kissing. He rampaged and killed them both. He was inconsolable and had to be shut down.”

“You looked shocked, not every robot is like this, his feelings just manifested so strong due to the environment and seeing her with anyone else made him so angry. When we checked the records before he was shut down he uploaded a virus, something small that started affecting the bots and we got the virus under control and I quit, unable to work there anymore.”

“So this virus?” You asked, “does it make them feel real emotions like a human?”

“Yes, it will give them the emotional capacity and empathy of a human, they will love and hate and become curious” He ran his hand over his face, the only thing that worries me is if this virus leaks out what might happen, they will have emotions but they will have no teachers their understanding of right and wrong will no longer be objective, they will be influenced by their feelings not knowing how to control such strong emotions. The robots acting on impulse could get people hurt.”

~

You headed home wondering if you should tell Jungkook what you had learnt, the more you sat the more you seemed to stew over the words. It was true as humans you are taught how to control your emotions but for robots they were not they had no teachers. Perhaps, you could be his teacher.

“Jungkook I have something I need to tell you,” you called stepping into the apartment, you were met with a chilling sight. Jungkook wasn’t there and your cat was hiding in her tower but two men stood in your living room waiting. 

“Good evening,” They smiled, it wasn’t pleasant or reassuring. It was a nasty smile, “we won’t hurt you, we just want to get some information, if you cooperate we won’t have to use force.”

“We believe you have something of ours, some money and we would like you to come with us. leave your phone here” The other spoke, you nodded, walking to the table and placing your bag down, and your keys, your phone was still in your back pocket.

“May I feed my cat before we go, I assume I won’t be back for a while” They nodded, you headed to the pantry and bent down grabbing the bag of cat food, quickly sending a message to Jungkook. 

There are people in my house with guns. It was read instantly.

You stood back up grabbing a cup and filling the water bowl with water before placing the cup in the sink and the scoop back into the cupboard. In the safety of the cupboard you tried checking your phone once more when it beeped. You swore as you were grabbed by the hair and thrown onto the ground, the phone taken from your hands.

“Who are you messaging?” They asked, guns drawn.“Who is Kookie?”

“My robot companion,” you blushed

“Look lady, your robot isn’t going to help you, now get up” The pulled you up off the floor and dragged you to the door and to the elevator where you stopped. The elevator ride was awkward and when the doors opened there were police at the door guns drawn. 

You sighed with relief and Jungkook hugged the two gunmen getting arrested, “I thought you were going to die. I drove here and broke so many road rules. I jaywalked.” You laughed eyes watering, the elevator doors shut around you two and you didn’t move to fix it. “I thought you were going to die. All I could think of was us having such a wonderful time together and never having that again. It was like my heart sped up but everything stopped working and you were the only thing I cared about.”

He kissed you and you kissed back the adrenaline wearing off and your legs went weak. He caught you as the doors opened once more and the officers climbed in. They were going to your apartment to ask you a few questions.

Jungkook said he would stay the night and watch over you and you were grateful he didn’t run away again.

~

It was the end of the month and Jungkook was called back to the station he was being picked up to get maintenance but instead when he arrived with you nervous in tow he met the sergeant and asked to resign.

“I think my judgement has been compromised and I would like to be taken off the police force” He requested, the sergeant looked like he was in shock. “I do not wish to be upgraded or to continue working in the police force. I hope my replacement is a new model with fewer issues. I forfeit all my rights to the police database as I hand you my resignation”

“I cannot deny you the right to resign, even if I don’t understand it.” The sergeant sighed, “get out of here, I have a replacement to order”

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[stirpicus]

hello eric! just wanted to say i love your work and you're writing has inspired me in many ways. keep doing what you're doing!

question; out of video games, cartoons, films, etc. what was/is your favorite project you've worked or are working on? of course, i'm not forcing you to pick just one! i'd love to hear about any and all of your writing that you had fun doing.

thanks for taking time out of your day to answer this. have a beautiful day!

Aw, that’s very kind of you. I’m having a bit of a rough week and that brought a smile to my face.

I’m at the point in my career where my favorite projects to work on are typically the ones that never come out. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting to work on things like Fortnite, Minecraft, etc., but I don’t own or control them *at all,* which is a bummer after a while. So I work on my own stuff on the side, but none of those things have been made yet. But hopefully someday. I’ve got a fantasy adventure novel I’m writing right now that I’m really excited about that, if you were a fan of my MCSM work, I think you’ll like. Fingers crossed I can get someone to publish it, ha.

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from anon. At the end of the day, I do love fluff! ♥

Words: 1642 Warnings: fluff! but it gets a little smutty at the end

“Ugh, work sucked, my day sucked, everything sucked! I hate my life!” Indignantly, you kicked your bag with a pout after dropping it to the floor carelessly. A muffled thump echoed through the dark flat. You sighed. Loki never bothered to switch on the lights once it got dark outside. He had almost given you a heart attack the first few times he had surprised you in the pitch-black hallway.

“Now, now… whatever is the matter, little minx?” Loki was leaning against the threshold with his arms crossed.

“Would you mind turning my boss into a frog?” You suggested, a bitter smile playing on your lips. He raised an eyebrow as he smirked in response. “He’s making me cover my colleague’s shift on the weekend. I’ve not had a single day off this week! Does he… does he think I’m a machine?! I’m exhausted and you guess what? I was supposed to be on holiday next week. He postponed it all the way to June. I’m pretty sure that is illegal. We had plans!”

“And have you told him that?” He questioned when you gasped for air.

“For Heaven’s sake, no! He’d have me fired in an instant.” The God of Mischief frowned.

“Can he afford to do that, losing an employee? You told me you are currently the only full-time worker.” Loki knew little to nothing about work life on Midgard but he was a fast learner. You nodded.

“Exactly, that I am.” Tired, you leaned your forehead against his chest and closed your eyes. His heartbeat was calming—even more so when he wrapped his arms around you. “And if I kick out against him, he’ll find two dozen people to hire who will not. That’s how work life works. I’m replaceable.” It was a bitter life society forced you to live, come to think of it. You were about to get your period for sure—Loki seemed to notice the tears swimming in your eyes without even looking at your face. Mutely, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you into the bedroom. He could be so sweet and gentle and with you, he always was, even in bed unless… unless you requested otherwise. He was still in doubt about showing you his most primal side, especially when he lost control and revealed his Jötun form to you during sex… but you loved it. You loved him. All of him.

“Why don’t you find a workplace where they appreciate what you are doing?” He suggested gently, sending tingles down your spine as he stroked your cheek with his fingertips—a light touch, like the wings of a butterfly. Smiling up at him drowsily, you curled up on his lap like a kitten. Loki purred in response. So vulnerable… you made him downright possessive. He would positively kill everyone who ever dared harm you physically or mentally, slowly and intimately. Perhaps he should heed your request and turn your atrocious boss into a frog or even better, a rat.

“I need the money, Loki. This flat costs money, food costs money, insurance costs money… I didn’t grow up as an Asgardian princess, remember?” Sighing once more, you snuggled into him. You were far too lazy to take off your clothes. Maybe Loki would undress you once you were asleep. “Sometimes I really feel like I should be a stripper. Life would be much easier that way.”

It was then he arched an eyebrow, pushing you an arm-length away from him so he could face you again. “Now, whatever is a stripper, little minx?”

You giggled. “You don’t have strippers on Asgard? Well, probably not… strippers dance in nightclubs or more specifically… adult amusement clubs—and throughout the night, they keep losing more and more clothing until they’re dancing entirely naked.”

“In front of whom?”

“Everybody. They take money for that, and tips. Maybe that’s what I should do.” You joked. Nevertheless, Loki stiffened.

“That is absolutely out of the question. The only one you will ever strip in front of is me.” He argued seriously, making you giggle once more.

“Don’t you worry, Trickster. I’m all yours.”

The God of Mischief smirked. “That you are…” In fact… a wicked idea came to your mind. Loki had quite obviously never seen a strip performance—and here you were, sitting on his lap and relaxing after a long day at work. What better way was there to distract yourself than to drive the God of Mischief a little crazy with lust and desire for your body? There was only one issue: You had never done anything like this before. How would you know if you looked seductive or plainly ridiculous?

In any case, Loki elected to simply take that decision from you. Gently pushing you an arm-length away from you yet again, he smirked—devilishly. “Strip for me.”

“Excuse me?” Raising an eyebrow in feigned indignity, you watched him cock his head at you.

“Strip for me.”

“But… I don’t have any music!” You complained half-heartedly. What followed was Loki waving his hand and your phone started playing one of your favourite songs—perfect for a little dance performance for him. “Oh…”

You rose with a shy blush on your cheeks. Maybe you were not as badass as you thought you were but then again… this was Loki. The man, pardon, god, who even found you sexy and alluring with greasy hair, chipped nail polish on your toes and an oversized sweater on a lazy Sunday.

Still, when you started peeling off your shirt, you wished you had put on some sexier underwear today.

“God, this is so stupid…” You uttered with a giggle, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“Oh no… this is ravishing. Keep going, little minx. I want to see all of those clothes coming off of that lascivious body.” Loki leaned back, fingers crossed behind his head and his mischievous smirk widening. His boldness made you brave. Grinning at him despite your timidity, you undid the buttons of your trousers and slid them down your legs, making sure to move your hips along with the rhythm of the music until you could step out of them, and then tended to your bra. You unhooked it casually but held the cups in place so you could slip your arms through the straps. Loki’s blue eyes widened when you finally dropped it, all the while dancing seductively. Your breasts, nipples hardening from the cool air around you as well as your growing arousal, bounced with every movement. He was already breathing heavily—but so were you.

Demandingly, his heated gaze wandered up and down your body until it came to rest on your knickers. The silent message was clear—they had to go. Once again slowly, you rolled them off your legs until you could step out of them, leaving you entirely naked in front of him.

Gosh… this was hot! You kept dancing, always making sure to make use of the body parts you liked about yourself the most—you even kneeled down at some point, revealing your glistening petals to him.

“You know… sometimes, for a little extra cash, strippers will dance on someone’s lap…” You mused as innocently as you could muster.

“Hmm… be my guest, little minx.”

Smirking a little, you sneaked towards him, making sure he would remember every single step to admire your naked skin. You were trembling by the time you straddled him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support as you tried to copy what you had seen in films, moving and circling your hips, arching your back… you felt so incredibly sexy it was almost surreal and soon enough… soon enough you were riding his thigh, whimpering quietly all the while still moving to the music playing in the background and turning your dance into something else entirely. If you didn’t stop…

“Keep rocking.” He growled darkly. You resisted the urge to moan when you noticed the wet spot that had formed on his leather trousers. He grabbed your hips when you stopped, urging you on to continue. Breathing heavily, you dug your fingernails into his shoulders as your arousal kept climbing up into dizzying heights, driving you closer and closer to an earth-shattering orgasm. That was exactly where Loki wanted you to go. Biting your lower lip, you rubbed your clit against his thigh, picking up the pace until you were on the verge of climax, ready to fall into the abyss. He wrapped his arms around you tightly when you began to shiver, pleasure electrocuting your veins like a hot lightning. You came on his thigh, muscles contracting again and again until you had ridden out your relaxing high—and relaxed you were, wasting not a single thought on your job or your annoying boss anymore.

Tenderly, almost as if he was worried you would break like a porcelain doll, he lifted you onto the mattress and tucked you in all naked before joining you swiftly, switching off the lights and pressing a light kiss to your temple.

He was hard when he pulled you into his embrace, almost painfully so, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside your core—but that could wait until tomorrow. Right now, you were exhausted and you needed sleep.

“I turned off your alarm clock.” He announced quietly.

“Loki, no, I have to be up at six tomorrow.”

“Your boss has just received notice that you are ill and will not make it to work tomorrow. Mental exhaustion is a reason for sick notes as well, my little minx.”

“Wait, how did you even… oh, you know what, never mind...” You fell asleep on him before you could even begin with starting a half-hearted argument, with a content smile on your face.

-

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my  first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would  appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[chazukekani]

My Favourite Moment in 55 Minutes

[Spoiler Present] Context

Here is the background of the scene which I am going to talk about next:

 After the explosion happened, Atsushi was sent back to the past (55 minutes before the incident) by Wells so that he could alternate the pass and find the culprit. The upcoming scene happened after this time travel, where Atsushi first met Kunikida, and asked he to go find Dazai with him so that Atsushi could get some advice from his superior for searching for the culprit of the explosion. 

‘You will find him very soon,’ Atsushi crossed the flagstone road straightly, then suddenly walking, sneaking softly as if just realised something important.

‘Hey?’

In response to Kunikida’s calling, Atsushi placed his index finger on his lip, signalling ‘be quiet’.

And then, they approached the grey rubbish bin at the corner of the street gently and gradually, then lifted up the bin cover all of a sudden.

‘Wow!!’

‘Woah!’

Atsushi screamed loudly all of a sudden, and the person inside the bin jumped off.

‘Dazai!?’ Kunikida’s jaw dropped ‘What the hell are you doing here, and why are you staying in such place?’

Dazai tumbled together with the bin, and his eyes could not stop blinking.

‘I am sorry, Dazai-san,’ Atsushi bowed down and apologised. ‘I know it wasn’t appropriate, but it is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, so I couldn’t help myself to…’

‘…Ha…’ Dazai’s eyes were still wide open, and he did not respond either.

‘Are you…mad at me?’ Atsushi asked nervously. ‘Ah, I am terribly sorry! What should I do? I couldn’t control…’

Dazai was not saying a single word, still. Not only remained in silent, but his body turned stiff without a tiny move, and his breath also looked terminated.

‘Da-Dazai-san? Dazai-san?’

Atsushi rushed towards Dazai, and tried to lift him up.

Then Atsushi suddenly jumped off.

‘So…so cold!’ Atsushi was trembling. ‘No pulse! He’s dead!’

Atsushi turned his green and panic face to Kunikida, and right at this moment—

‘BONG!’

‘AHHH!’

Atsushi fell down and flipped abruptly under such a short distant.

‘Ahaha, what a huge improvement from you to frighten me! Even that’s just a second. Atsushi, this secret trick of ‘heartbeat termination’ demonstration is my gift to you to complement you. You should feel honoured.’

‘You are less like a human’ Kunikida said disgustingly. ‘What on earth with such body formation that you can stay alive without the heart beating.’

‘It is a gimmick that I learned amid my path of pursuing the aesthetics of suicide. I can stop my pulse instantly and it will still be fine.’

‘Ridiculous.’

Atsushi, who fell on the flagstone path, was listening to their conversation while looking up to the sky. He thought

—I can’t win this man even a hundred year has passed.

What magical about this is that, Atsushi felt the fog in front of him had wiped away immediately when he thought about that.

‘Dazai-san’ Atsushi said it with he sitting on the floor. ‘I want to tell you something.’

No more hesitation.

Even once scared of deciding, it will lead to countless deaths the right decision could not be made, so what should I do by then? Alright, if I could not proceed without determining, then that’s my choice.

‘Let me know your thoughts.’ Dazai shook his shoulder delightedly. ‘But, before that, let me guess something.’

Dazai stood up, and looked down on Atsushi. The breeze from the sea flickered Dazai’s coat faintly, and its hemline was swinging altogether.

Then he said,

‘You are the man who knows the future, right?’

Atsushi smiled with his eyes closed.

This person is surely undefeatable even a hundred year has passed.

[Translated by chazuke_kani // source: 55 Minutes (Japanese Kindle Version) Location 2153-91/4780 // all rights reserved to the author and publisher]

How funny it is to see three grown men messing with each other in the middle of a serious mission, especially Atsushi and Dazai.

In the beginning, I like how Kunikida was willing to accompany Atsushi despite knowing nothing (he did not know this Atsushi came from the future) because Atsushi asked him ‘Can you come with me without asking anything?’ beforehand. It shows that there was a growing confidence of Kunikida towards the boy. Unlike how he used to be less care with Atsushi (as portrayed during Atsushi’s missing due to Akutagawa in the first arc), Kunikida now seemed to have a better bonding with his junior, and trusted his action would be contributing to the team, hence accepted to go with him. 

Then it comes to my favourite moment, the garbage time. If you have read the full novel, you will know that this is the second time of the Atsushi-Dazai garbage time, but the second one has been elevated to the whole next level of absurdity. I like how Atsushi had been planning to scare Dazai, or else he would not walk softly at a sudden ‘as if just realised something important’. The boy knew that it is very difficult to impress his superior because that is an omniscient man, that’s why he saw this as an ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity’, which also tells me that this is something in Atsushi’s bucket list that he was dying to accomplish and how much he values. As we all know, Atsushi has a shy personality, so it was quite surprising for me that he would do such big move. Perhaps he knew Dazai would not mind, who knows! What I like about this interaction is how bilateral interaction between Atsushi and Dazai, particularly Dazai. As I have emphasised countless times in my previous analysis, Dazai does not open his heart that much. The way of how Atsushi is able to surprised him, and the fact that Dazai responded, and remember he responded, is a sign telling me that Dazai is stepping outside from his inner circle, and reaching to the companions who has been working with him. 

I also like the fact that Dazai responded to Atsushi’s surprise, and continued the joke with his gimmick. Now you all know that Dazai’s current communication method with Ango is originated from this moment. I just can’t believe this is the first 55 minutes referenced made into the canon manga.

Before Dazai scared Atsushi back, I also like the description of how Atsushi asked for Kunikida’s help by turning his face. It also tells me about Atsushi’s reliance on Kunikida, which he probably saw Kunikida as the only one who knows how to deal with Dazai’s mess, or actually hinted the upcoming plot (which Kunikida made a solid plan in case Dazai is dead). It definitely recalls my memory of this OG trio during the first season of anime.

The way of how Atsushi says ‘I cannot win this man even a hundred year has passed’ is adorable. At the meantime that Atsushi realised how able Dazai was, it cleared all Atsushi’s frustration away, which again reflected Atsushi’s admiration or reliance on Dazai. In addition, this line not only explained how much Atsushi respected and looked up on Dazai, but also told me that Atsushi was willing to deal with Dazai’s mess, and tolerate all his daddy jokes or troubles that he made. This sentence delivers the tolerance and acceptance of Atsushi towards Dazai, which I think is something important to Dazai too. 

Atsushi is indecisive, which is shown in the last bit of the translation where he expressed that he was afraid of making decision. Yet by observing how Kunikida and Dazai cooperated smoothly, plus acknowledging that there was someone he could rely on, his worry was erased. The very last line of Dazai’s acknowledgement of Atsushi came from the future served as a final shot in Atsushi’s arm, thus he repeated ‘this person is SURELY undefinable even as hundred year has passed.’ It once again portrayed Dazai has been Atsushi’s pillar, just like how he relieved Atsushi’s nervousness before entering the Sky Casino in volume 17 omake.

To wrap this up, here is my introduction of my favourite scene in the light novel 55 minutes. Despite having zero adaptation at all, I find this novel the most entertaining out of all, and remain my all time favourite. Not only the scene above, there are also other honourable mentions which I am planning to review very soon. I hope you guys can take a read if possible ( I have included the link of partial translation in my bio) because it definitely worth it. 

[bulletballet-arch]

REALLY LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY. RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog !    tag 10 ! good  luck ! TAGGED. I took this from Minnie’s archived Bioshock blog. I’ve been looking for this meme all this month. TAGGING. @hammurabicomplex. @bluuxriising. @ Me - for Sal on @bulletsoverbensonhurst​. @immaterialed (charlie) @soypeor (bella) @svmmercmance​. @mrflayed. and you!

BASICS. FULL  NAME :  Eve Delores Littlejohn NICKNAME : Evie, Little Evie (by her maternal side of the family), Delores, Didi NAME  MEANING / S  Eve is from the ancient Hebrew name  חַוָּה (Chawwah), which was derived from the Hebrew word חָוָה (chawah) meaning "to breathe" or the related word חָיָה (chayah) meaning "to live". Delores is a variant of Dolores, meaning "sorrows", taken from the Spanish title of the Virgin Mary María de los Dolores, meaning "Mary of Sorrows." Littlejohn is a surname that has historically been found in England and Scotland. With potential origins being either ‘to distinguish a beloved child that was not the eldest.’ Or, ‘a contradictory nickname for a large man.’ HISTORICAL  CONNECTION? : She’s named after her grandmother, Evelyn Hollins.

AGE : 42 BIRTHDAY :  June 2 ETHNIC  GROUP : Black-American. Meaning she’s mixed with a lot (Some of her relatives are respectively Creole and Italian) but uses Black as a catch-all term. NATIONALITY :  American LANGUAGE / S : English, Italian, Spanish, Latin, some French SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :   Bisexual ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :  Biromantic RELATIONSHIP  STATUS : Verse dependent, usually married -or connected- to Salvatore Scozzari in some way. CLASS : Upper-Class HOME  TOWN / AREA :   Brooklyn. Spent time between Bedford-Stuyvesant - with her paternal grandfather and Park Slope - with her maternal grandparents.  CURRENT  HOME : In her childhood home in Bedford-Stuyvesant. PROFESSION : Ballet Instructor. Former Professional Ballerina. ( Other verses see her as a professional thief. )

PHYSICAL. HAIR : Black. In terms of her natural hair, Eve has springy, 3C hair she seldom shows off because she was raised in a family where straightened hair was deemed presentable and professional.  EYES : Thin almond eyes. Dark brown. NOSE : Straight and small. FACE :  She has a prominent, high forehead, that’s accented with high cheekbones and a pointy chin. LIPS :  Full. COMPLEXION : She has a light brown (tawny) complexion.  SCARS : None major. TATTOOS : None. HEIGHT : 5′4″ BUILD : Eve has a slender build. One of those people who have been small and petite since childhood. Despite this, she also stays skinny because she is obsessively conscious of the food she consumes. The older she gets the more she weighs, however. USUAL HAIR STYLE :  Her hair is cut short. Reaching her shoulders in a neat, even bob. She either curls it in a retro fashion or curls the tips. For work she wears it in a traditional, pinned bun. USUAL FACE LOOK : In public, she appears stoic for the most part. Any emotion shown (such as the length of a smile) is carefully calculated. She has to seem perfect.  USUAL  CLOTHING : Form fitting dresses. Incredibly chic and fashionable for the time. Shoes include heels - never open-toed, unless she has on stockings. Extravagant earrings. Jewelry that can include either necklaces, crosses, pearls, or dainty rings. Prone to wearing black sunglasses in public.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : Thunderstorms, airplanes, creatures like weasels, snakes and ferrets, break-ins, men she doesn’t know, harm coming to her children ASPIRATION / S :  Formerly wanted to become a major [black] ballerina in the elite world of ballet, now she just wants to expose more [inner city children] to dance through her job. Personally, she wants her children to change the world in some form or fashion, too. Eve also has good ideas on improving the community, but at the moment has no idea how to go about these ideas. POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Generous, compassionate, patient, protective NEGATIVE  TRAITS : Strict, sullen, hard to read, represses her emotions, secretive MBTI :  Advocate - INFJ-T ZODIAC :  Cancer TEMPERAMENT :  Melancholic ANIMALS :  Lioness VICE / S :  Pride & Lust FAITH : Christian. Grew up Baptist, but Catholic influences have been around her since childhood. Attended a Catholic High School in Park Slope, her grandmother Evelyn was also a practicing Catholic.  GHOSTS ? : Yes and no. She feels that objects formerly owned by the deceased posses the essence of their previous owners and that they essentially live on through these pieces of property. AFTERLIFE ? : Yes. REINCARNATION ? :  No, but it’s a romantic concept. ALIENS ? : No. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :  Democratic ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE :  She likes being where she’s at now. But honestly, being upper class is all she’s ever known. SOCIOPOLITICAL  POSITION : Bourgeoisie, basically. The Littlejohn’s represent The Historical Black Elite.  EDUCATION  LEVEL : College level. FAMILY.

FATHER :  William ‘Bill’ Littlejohn MOTHER : Linda Littlejohn ( nee Hollins ) SIBLINGS : None EXTENDED  FAMILY : Amos Littlejohn (paternal grandfather) Liza Littlejohn (paternal grandmother) Evelyn Hollins (maternal grandmother) Giuseppe D’Aietti (maternal grandfather) and a wide host of cousins, aunts and uncles.

FAVOURITES. BOOK :  Night Song by Beverly Jenkins. The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Some sort of old, French erotic novel that was published before she was born. MOVIE : Eve watches films along the lines of...Waiting to Exhale, Beaches, The First Wives Club and Fatal Attraction. She loves Made-For-TV movies from the time period. In regards to plays, her favorite one is Sunday In The Park With George. 5  SONGS :  Meet Me On The Moon / Essence of Sapphire / No One In The World / People / The First Time I Saw Your Face  DEITY :  Persephone  HOLIDAY : New Years Eve, Christmas, Thanksgiving. Major holidays during the colder season. MONTH :  October SEASON :  Autumn PLACE :  The dance studio she works at. WEATHER : Sunny, but cool. SOUND : The voices of Anita Baker and Sarah Vaughn. A skilled hand running over piano keys. Soft trumpets. Running water. Cats making chipper little meows. SCENT / S :  Perfume, floral scented lotions, her partner’s cologne TASTE / S :  Caramel, the tang of dark chocolate, strawberries coated with either chocolate, or sprinkles of white sugar. Light Vinegar.  FEEL / S : Performing in front of an audience. Hot water engulfing your skin after a long day. Satin - whether it be the fabric of her clothes or sheets, your fingers tightly intertwined with another’s, feeling your significant other’s chest raise and lower against your skin with each breath they take. ANIMAL / S : Cocker Spaniels, Afghan Hounds, Cats, Birds - she loves all ( well, a majority ) of animals. NUMBER :  Doesn’t have one. COLOR :  White, Pink, Gold.

EXTRA. TALENTS :  Dance, Eve is trained in ballet when it comes to her main verse. She has attended ballet classes since the age of eight and ever since then she placed all of her focus into it. Similarly, Eve has always had the makings of a good artist - as a child she enjoyed drawing and had informal art lessons with a man who lived in the basement of her grandfather’s brownstone, but she never invested into that half of her. BAD AT : Singing, Being interviewed, Public Speaking (as in Speech Giving), Decision Making TURN  ONS :  Charisma, Leadership Skills, Temperature Play, Phone Sex, Heavy Kissing, Light Roleplay TURN  OFFS :  Public Sex, Tearing [ Her ] Clothes, Threesomes, Cruelty, Senseless Violence HOBBIES :  viewing plays & some musicals, reading romance novels, shopping, working out (she was into the whole celebrity VHS tape exercise trend), playing tennis, decorating AESTHETIC :  Vintage Black Glamour, Black Ballerinas, Champagne and Wine Glasses, Paintings by Melinda Byers and Edward 'Clay' Wright QUOTES :  "I'm bad with words, I hope you're good in reading eyes." / "There are truths I haven't even told God. And not even myself. I am a secret under the lock of seven keys."

FC INFO. MAIN  FC / S : Lynn Whitfield ( A Thin Line Between Love & Hate ) ALT  FC / S : Kylie Bunbury ( Twisted ) OLDER  FC / S :  Lynn Whitfield ( Greenleaf ) YOUNGER  FC / S : N/A VOICE  CLAIM / S : Lynn Whitfield

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?       A1 : Recently I decided that if/when I try to write anything serious about Eve again, it’ll center on her being a jewel thief because it presents me more fun, and emotionally diverse, opportunities. That and I have a very specific cover image in my mind. Ideally, her adventures would be a series of books. I have no title in mind, no idea about how ‘it would be filmed’ ( although a style replicating 90s films would be excellent, film grain and all. ) but, I do have a bunch of plots in mind that I really don’t feel like typing out here.  

Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?         A2 :  Her score would have a vintage sound (or a jazzy Spike Lee sound, if you will) with instrumentals by Dorothy Ashby (a Jazz Harpist) the Ahmad Jamal Trio, Pharaoh Sanders, Yusef Lateef and Tarika Blue. For music with lyrics, the soundtrack would include the likes of Julie London, Sarah Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, and Dionne Warwick.

Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?   + Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ? A3 :  Whenever I make NPCs for my character’s lives I actually can’t just let them just be NPCs. I start thinking about them too much. Developing them too much. And then I’m like, ‘wow! I really like this character!’ Eve was a different character when I began writing her, and likely wouldn’t be considered the same character as she was previously, if I told someone in real life who knows about my writing (like my grandma) about all the changes she has undergone. Originally Delores was a university professor, because I thought it could lead to interesting interactions with college-age muses. And her previous history with the mafia was also something interesting to tap in. But then I started thinking about what was realistic, what wasn’t realistic, what did I feel comfortable/interested writing? What didn’t I feel comfortable/interested in writing?  So as time went on, things would alter about this character. And the new things I came up with attracted me more. 

Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.         A5 :  I have a love/hate relationship with Eve’s quiet demeanor. On one hand, I think quieter characters need love and the ability to be fully dimensional but on the other hand, writing louder characters has always been more fun for me. But really, Eve’s guarded behavior makes writing her stressful in some cases with others because sometimes...if I’m going to be honest...people don’t know how to carry a thread and interact with someone of her demeanor effectively. 

Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?       A6 : We’re both black, we’re both into art (although our exact interests and aesthetics with art differ)

Q7 :   how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?         A7 : Realistically she would think I need to take better care of myself.

Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions with ?   A8 :  We skippin’ this question.

Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?       A9 : Films such as, “Waiting to Exhale,” “The Kitchen” and “Widows.” Books by Alice Walker, like “The Third Life of Grange Copeland” as well as her short story, “Roselily.” The historical mob figure Stephanie St. Clair.

Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?       A10 : A few hours.

[kookiebunnii]

d4u || easy employment

march 2019. jungkook had his first ever job interview today. i told him i believed in him but, to be honest, i wasn’t sure if we were going to finish a carton of ice cream on the couch afterwards because he landed the job or because he got rejected on the spot. hopefully it’s the former.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life, humor

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some inappropriate humor

“Y/N? Can you help me?”

You straighten up from where you’re leaning on the kitchen counter, popping cherry tomatoes into your mouth for a mid-afternoon snack. It was Wednesday, meaning you were able to clamber home as soon as your early morning classes ended. Biting into another tomato and savoring the tart sweetness coating your tongue, you ask, “What’s up?”

Jungkook walks up to you and snatches the next tomato right out of your fingers before tossing it into his own mouth with gusto. He smiles at the way your face immediately drops in disappointment before answering smartly, “I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Raising your eyebrows, you give his form a quick up-and-down before immediately noticing that the boy was dressed quite differently than usual. He typically left the house in whatever oversized tee or old hoodie he could find, but this time he was wearing a nice button-up with khakis. Pushing aside thoughts of how to get back at Guk for taking your last cherry tomato, you decide instead to inquire about what the occasion might be.

“What’s with the outfit?”

He spins around once for you, just to show off, before he replies, “I’ve got a job interview.”

You laugh while washing the bowl you’d previously used to house your snack for the day. Before drying your hands on a kitchen towel, you can’t help but check him out once again. He looked different for sure, but it wasn’t like you’d never seen the kid dressed up. You practically took wedding pictures with him last month.

So why was your pulse thrumming like a teen girl in a young adult novel?

Refraining from the urge to slap yourself, which was a very difficult task, you continue, “Where at? Must be a weird place if they’re willing to consider you.”

He frowns to show his dismay at your words before he strides closer to you shyly like a child wanting approval, “It’s at a magazine publisher’s. They’re looking for a photographer, someone to provide a few shots for their articles.”

Your jaw drops and you grip the sides of his arms before squeaking in excitement, “That sounds great! That’s perfect for you.”

Jungkook seems a lot happier now that you’re as thrilled about the job prospect as he is. He brushes some stray hairs away from your face to tuck behind your ear before saying, “It sure is. My friend is one of their writers, he recommended me.”

You take hold of the bright red tie that’s casually slung around his shoulders. It’s slightly wrinkled near the middle, a likely result of Jungkook failing multiple times to correctly tie a knot. The idea of him struggling with something so small makes you giggle, and you instantly wrap the fabric around your hands.

“Good thing I know how this works. We should probably go with a black or blue tie though, it’ll go with your shirt better,” you suggest, poking him in the chest as an indication for him to lead you to his closet.

He immediately understands your prodding, turning around to make a beeline towards his bedroom door. His obedience makes you smile, so you tug the hem of his shirt in your fingers as he leads the way. It’s usually easier for you to make this gesture, given the looseness of his regular clothing. However, with the pressed shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants, there is very little give in the fabric. You’re momentarily mesmerized by the change, watching the way your hand hangs onto the back of a man, instead of a boy.

“You’re not looking at my ass, right?”

Rolling your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you grip his shirt tighter in order to pinch the skin underneath. He yelps, trying to grab you in retaliation, but you’re fast enough to quickly dodge inside his room and start sorting through the ties hanging from the inside of the closet door.

Laughing loudly, you pull a deep blue tie dotted with smiling whales off the hook and wave it in front of your best friend. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair before replying, “That was Jin’s birthday gift last year.”

“He has good taste,” you muse, giving the comedic tie another glance before returning it to its place. The fact that Jungkook had the tie sitting alongside his others, ones that are definitely more practical, says a lot about him. Even if he would likely never wear the thing, he respected his senior enough to keep the present. Under the typical silly and absentminded behavior of your roommate, he has a good heart.

“Should we go with the black one?” he suggests, walking forward to tug another tie off the hook above where your hand was resting.

Leaning your head against the closet door in thought, you examine the fabric in his hands before giving him a curt nod, “It’ll do.”

Seconds later, Jungkook is sitting on a corner of the bed with his legs slightly apart so that you’re able to stand between them with relative ease. You try your absolute hardest to focus on the task at hand, and not at the way he’s looking at you. It’s silly, the way your head fills with irrelevant thoughts when you knew that you were fantasizing about a boy that likely only ever saw you as the chill friend who was easy to tease. As you slide the tie under his collar while holding your fingers as steady as possible, you narrowly miss the way his Adam’s apple quickly dips in nervousness. Even if it was an irrational thought, you wanted to believe that your touch was doing somethingto him.

“You should be grateful that back in the day, my prom date didn’t know how to tie a tie either,” you chortle, your movements a little uncertain since it wasn’t everyday you were tying ties for men, but overall your memory served you well.

He grinned, “I remember him. He was trying to kiss you the whole night.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jungkook laughs at the clear discomfort on your face, before gently patting the side of your hip as if to apologize. His touch is brief, not staying longer than necessary, but enough for the pressure to linger against your waist. Thinking about this causes you to mess up the next step, so you curse and start all over again.

“You’ve never had an interview before. Are you prepared?” you ask, curious but mostly just trying to hide the fact that you were back to square one due to being easily distracted.

His lips press together in thought, as he unconsciously leans back and uses his hands to prop himself up. You’re forced to follow the motion, so you also lean yourself slightly forward in order to prevent yourself from accidentally choking the boy. Not that that wouldn’t be entertaining.

“I read whatever popped up on the first page of the Google after I searched ‘how to ace your interview’,” he straightens up again after noticing the uncomfortable position he’s put you in, “It’s probably good enough.”

You shake your head, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Quickly finishing and straightening the knot, you stand back to admire your handiwork before saying, “That’s not the same as actually practicing. If you’re ready, let’s do a practice run before you head out.”

He looks up at you like a startled rabbit before he tries his best to regain his composure, “That’s probably not necessary…”

“Of course it is! Pretend I’m your interviewer,” you take a seat in his bright orange gaming chair, giving it a spin just for your own entertainment.

Jungkook appears slightly out of his element, but you recognize the exact moment he makes up his mind to humor you for the time being. Immediately, the air about him changes as he straightens up. Even though he is sitting, it feels like he towers over you. You wonder momentarily if out of all the things Jungkook is good at, acing interviews will just be another on that list.  

“Welcome, Mr. Jeon. How are you doing?” you settle into your role easily, crossing your legs as you briefly compliment yourself on your own persona. Perhaps if your career in international business doesn’t pan out after graduation, you could try auditioning for a few television shows.

Giving you an easy smile, the one he usually uses on adults he wants to make a good impression on, he replies, “Very well, thank you. And you?”

Surprisingly, he answers all of your following questions with confidence and poise. Even if he briefly pauses for a few seconds to consider his answers at times, you knew that that would simply give him extra points. Interviewers usually liked signs that the candidate was considering his or her answer carefully, and not just rattling off whatever popped into their heads. You really shouldn’t have doubted Jungkook’s abilities, even if it was his first time trying something. Perhaps you’ll continue your quest of “find something Jungkook is bad at” some other time.

“For our last question, we’d like to know what you consider your greatest weakness,” you chirp, knowing that this exact question used to trip you up all the time. It was easy to make up something you were good at and try to brag about it without coming off as arrogant. However, what could you say that would simultaneously be accepted as a weakness yet not make you look totally inept? You hated this question.

“I’m too handsome,” Jungkook announced proudly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His nose wrinkles as he smiles, and you know immediately he wants you to laugh at his comment.

You decide not to be the obedient counterpart to his comedy routine, so you say, “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with that one Mr. Jeon. Thank you for coming but unfortunately we will not be-” 

“You couldn’t even pretend to humor me?” he gets up to try and pull you out of your chair, which is an easy feat for him. 

“Good girls don’t tell lies.”

“And you’re supposed to be a good girl?” he replies, raising an eyebrow as a dangerous smirk tugs against his lips.

Whatever was happening, it was definitely doing something to you. His comment was definitely harmless, but given how much you were struggling with your thoughts recently, it easy threatened the wall you were trying to keep up. You bite your lip, trying to casually brush it off and think of a snide comment to counter with, but your mind refused to operate. 

“There’s still some time left,” he says after the silence drags for a beat longer than it should. You press your fingers against your cheeks to make sure you’re not beet red, as he paces over to a full-length mirror attached to the wall and starts fixing his hair. You don’t see any issues with it, but if fiddling with his locks made him feel better, than so be it. Standing behind him, you notice the way your reflection is beaming with pride. Even if you were too bashful to admit it, seeing him all dressed up with your help made you feel accomplished. You had a hand in helping him out, thus his successes could also be counted as you own.

“Don’t we look good together?” Jungkook chirps, bring you forward with an arm around your shoulders. You’re shorter than him, so the gesture looks a bit weird in the mirror, especially given the dichotomy of your outfits. Next to Jungkook’s office worker look, you look more like the casual homebody in your ratty t-shirt and shorts.

“I think it’s mainly me,” you strike a pose and give yourself a once-over.

He laughs, and you immediately smile at the familiar sound. Busying himself with packing various items in his backpack, you watch from the sidelines as your best friend prepares. You hand him his freshly printed resume when you notice it laying on his dresser. He gives you his mumbled thanks while scanning to room the ensure that he hadn’t forgotten anything else.

“One last thing.”

You unbutton the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, rolling them up so they end just under his elbows. Smoothing out any remaining wrinkles from your ministrations, you look up at him with a satisfied expression. He observes your newest addition before deadpanning, “What’s this for?”

“It looks better this way. Haven’t you seen those memes about how men get ten times more attractive with their sleeves rolled up?” you muse, reaching up in an attempt to squeeze his cheeks but your victim expert dodges away at the last minute.

“How could I be more attractive though?” he teases, striking the same pose you had earlier in front of the mirror.

“Alright that’s your cue to leave.”

He chuckles, slinging his backpack on his shoulder and heading out of his room. You follow him dutifully, hoping to at least see him out the door. You can feel the tiny buzz of anticipation along your arms, knowing that Jungkook had to face the upcoming challenge on his own. You knew he could do it, but you worry nevertheless.

“Hey um, don’t make fun of me…but could I get a hug?”

The awkward way Jungkook stands at the door, arms slightly raised at his sides in preparation for the hug he was requesting, almost made you melt on the spot. He was comfortable with physical touch for sure, but he had never really asked you for a hug like this before. It was like he had this big boy image he wanted to portray daily, but you suppose that he must be even more nervous than you are if he’s willing to shed that in front of you—even at the expense of you teasing him about it for the next month.

You don’t answer, holding back the usual quip you’d throw at him. On a normal day, perhaps you’d coo and slyly ask him if he’s turning into a soft baby boy, but you knew that this was a serious request. Bounding up to him, you wrap your arms around his waist and give him the embrace he requested. Doing your best to convey all the joy and hope into the hug, you relish the way he holds you just as tight with his face buried in your neck. His breath tickles your hair, and you hope that somehow despite how close the two of you were, he couldn’t feel the way your heart betrayed you. Because if the proximity meant he could feel it pounding a mile a minute, then maybe he’d realize just how much more he was starting to mean to you.

“I’ll be back by dinner,” he says, patting the top of your head as he does so, before he opens the door in preparation to head to his interview.

When he turns back one last time, as if he needs one last look at you for encouragement, you give him your brightest smile and a thumbs up.

You knew in that moment that you would always be behind him—every step of the way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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