#so i wrote it instead... hoping it's good . would love to hear feedback what u think of the writing

[acekindaneat]

Serirei Week !!

Day 3: firsts/love languages

Reigen finds himself speechless (rare occasion)

continuation below but it's written form !! ↓↓

Serizawa gave him a slight nod, his face unreadable but tense. He gently directed Reigen towards the couches and sat him down. Wordlessly sitting beside him, he opened the first aid kit and rummaged through it.

Reigen watches in cautious silence, eyeing his coworker's rigid movements. The cloth he used to temporarily cover the large scratch left by the spirit was starting to itch. He slowly untied the knot with his uninjured hand and peeled off the blood-soaked makeshift bandage. It was drying off, but it still looked terrible. Four large gashes across his forearm, it almost looks like a scratch from a big cat.

Serizawa shifting closer brought Reigen's attention back to him. Their eyes met for a second before Serizawa looked down at his arm with a wince. Guilt evident on his face as he wet a towel with water and started to wipe off the blood with the lightest touch he could manage. Reigen swallowed the lump in his throat, the tense silence was getting to him so he spoke up.

"This could be part of your training, you know." He lightly joked, shrugging with his unoccupied shoulder. "It's important to know first aid, especially in our line of work." Serizawa's eyebrows furrowed as a frown formed on his face, but didn't take his eyes off his work, nor did he say anything back. As soon as the blood that smeared was gone, he grabbed the disinfectant and a cotton ball.

It was gonna sting, Reigen already knew that, but he still felt his heart flutter when Serizawa glanced up at him with a sorry look and muttered, "This might sting..."

Reigen didn't miss the way Serizawa was holding his hand with his free hand. He didn't miss the way his thumb was soothing the back of his palm with light strokes. He didn't miss the way he could feel the warmth radiating off of Serizawa's body just from how close they were sitting. Reigen felt himself gulp, not sure if it was in preparation for the pain, or to force himself back to retain his composure.

He let out a small hiss and a wince, before letting it dissipate quickly upon seeing Serizawa's face look more like a kicked puppy. He knows the man felt guilty for not arriving quick enough to prevent the spirit from hurting Reigen further. It wasn't his fault though. He can't blame Serizawa, not when he looked this sorry.

Gentle, flitting hands finally wrapped the wound in a bandage and secured it carefully. When it was done, Serizawa didn't move away, but instead let his hand rest on the wrapped arm, slowly rubbing his thumb against it like it would help heal the wound faster. It might, Reigen could hope. He could hope that this moment lasts. He looked up at Serizawa with a soft look, hoping that his message came across. Please.

Serizawa looked up at Reigen's eyes with the same level of fondness. Despite what he feels, it still scares Reigen, to see someone look at him like that. He's scared of seeing it often that he'll get attached to it, attached to the fondness, attached to feeling loved.

He almost felt himself jump when Serizawa gently held his hand up and pressed Reigen's palm against his lips with closed eyes. It's like his heart stopped, his breath hitching as he inhaled sharply.

This seemed to wake Serizawa from whatever trance he was in and pulled away, his face flushed red. His gaze landed everywhere except Reigen's as he cleared his throat and gathered up the used cotton balls and the bloodied washcloth. "I'll, uhm, throw these away. I'll grab some ice for your neck.. and make you some green tea in a bit..." He paused, sparing Reigen a glance and assessing his state.

"I'm glad you're okay, Reigen.." Serizawa spoke again, then escaped to the restroom to clean his hands off. Reigen sat there staring at his palm, dumbfounded and speechless.

[ugh-yoongi]

i started responding in tags but then it just grew out of control so i hope u don't mind me adding my thoughts!

to begin, i haven't personally seen this—probably because i'm awful at and don't really seek out new work on here unless it's from friends or friends of friends—and, to my knowledge, have not had this done to me.

but this feels parallel if not fully perpendicular to those folks who use AI to "finish" incomplete stories or rewrite parts they didn't like.

we say it a lot but most fanfiction writers are doing this for free, because they love the character and love writing and want to share their ideas with people who also love that character. there is little "reward" (for lack of a better term) aside from feedback and seeing others' enjoyment, so to take an author's work and alter it in any way—whether it's through the use of AI or what hali is talking about—can definitely be seen as insulting, especially if the original author isn't on board or isn't aware.

what you probably mean is: i love this story so much. i want to write something based off of it, using the same characters and the same plot, but something different is going to happen because it's what i want to see.

what we probably hear is: what you've given us isn't good enough. i'm going to fix it and bring it up to my standards, or make it more palatable.

but okay, let's say you've decided to write a fic based off of someone else's:

was the original story unsatisfying in some way? what about it felt so unsatisfying that you felt the need to do this?

are you writing an inspired work simply because you loved the original story so much and wanted to put your own spin on it?

if so, do you feel you truly know these characters, created by someone else, well enough to do them justice?

do you know why the original author wrote the characters, plot, setting, etc., the way they did? what changes, if any, did they make to make the story more cohesive, or make character A feel more like character A?

the most important question to me:

are you truly writing this because you want to pay homage to the original work? or are you writing this because it's what's currently popular on here and gets the most notes/feedback?

(because there's another topic altogether. "all the stories on here are the same!" well, yeah—a good handful of writers are doing it for the charts and not the art, as the tiktok kids would say. that doesn't really bother me too much. it can be demoralizing to put a ton of work into a story, write 20k of something you're proud of, and get little to no feedback, so i get it.

so do we need to examine what we're reading and giving our attention to? maybe. i dunno. there's a million different reasons character A in fic trope B is the most popular thing on here at any given time, and those sorts of trends come and go.

but the old-timey advice will always be the same: if you aren't seeing the kind of content you want, create it. and, unfortunately, that means accepting the lack of feedback/interaction if it isn't popular, which can be a big ask sometimes.)

but anyway. all this to say: you might mean well, but you can see from the responses to this so far that writing an inspired work is not a universally-flattering experience. some people will be excited, others will be very not-cool with it. there's a reason fix-it fic is both popular and a little controversial.

there is a fine line between inspiration and plagiarism. if you love someone's work and want to pay homage, there are so many other ways if the author isn't okay with inspired works: fanart, moodboards, intelligible screaming in their inbox about how much you loved it, sending in character/story asks.

if it's a jumping-off point for you, i.e. you want to start writing but aren't sure where to begin, but you know you love xyz fic and can't stop thinking about it: i get it, truly. but instead of using those characters and that plot, figure out what you love about them/it and build something new from there. writing is not always easy but it is unfortunately one of those things you have to do to get better at.

and no one can tell your stories the way you can.

writing is deeply, deeply personal. like i said, we tell the stories we want to tell, and we usually do it for a reason. if someone decided to rewrite bttifowiw i'd be gutted, because i wrote that story about a very specific time in my own marriage, and anyone else telling it wouldn't be right.

I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.

As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.

Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.

I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.

This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.

Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.

I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.

In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).

This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).

This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.

Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).

Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.

Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.

Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.

The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.

Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.

Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. I - Jab

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 4k REQUESTED: not exactly lol

hey everyone! this is PART 1 of the boxer!harry AU i’ve been working on. i was so inspired by this concept that i wrote it all in one day lol. if u enjoy reading it, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! it really helps in terms of motivation and just knowing how my readers feel about this story in general. so yeah, that would really make my month!

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, go stupid go dumb! my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio, for anyone who would like to check out my other fics or who feels like chatting. can’t wait to hear your thoughts 💘💘💘

~*~

    January 7, 2021

All of Harry’s teeth are still intact.

For now, at least.

He knows that mouthguards exist—there’s one tucked between his lips every single time he enters the ring. But even then…sometimes punches go awry. Sometimes your opponent dodges at the last second. Sometimes people end up with a mouthful of leather and a few loose incisors. He always keeps one fist near his chin, shielding the lower half of his face from any blows that come his way.

Speaking of blows coming his way…

He ducks away from the straight jab that the man throws—The Wall, they call him. Harry had rolled his eyes when the nickname boomed across the room, soon lost in the roar of the crowd.

He’s never been one for flashy introductions. He prefers to let his technique speak for itself. His brand is his name. Harry Styles. Simple, concise, and so utterly deceiving. He loves watching the smile melt from his opponent’s face, basks in the moment when they realise that he’s tougher than his name suggests.

The Wall jabs again, and Harry successfully dodges the punch. He doesn’t register the other fist hooking around, however, until the blunt front of the man’s glove makes contact with the side of his head. Usually, a blow like that wouldn’t even faze him. But the sheer force behind the hit knocks him off-balance, stumbling to the side as he loses his footing and inhaling sharply when his shoulder collides with the ground.

The yells from the crowd are deafening. Harry coughs, trying to guide air back into his lungs. When he blinks, black spots dance across his vision. Subconsciously, his eyes trace a path upward, past the floor, past his opponent’s feet, past the ropes encompassing the ring. Higher and higher, still, past jeering faces and sloshing beer bottles and grungy eye makeup. All the way to the top of the bleachers, to the exit—to you.

That’s been your unofficial spot for the past two years. Once you turned twenty, your father finally gave in, allowing you to attend Harry’s matches in exchange for the cessation of your endless badgering. You always stand near the door, observing the commotion with thoughtful eyes and puckered lips. Despite himself, Harry has started to think of you as his lucky charm. It’s dangerous—he always swore that he wouldn’t be one of those overly-superstitious athletes—but he can’t help it. He just seems to perform better when you’re around.

Through the rocky field of his vision, he can see just how wide your eyes have grown. There’s an unmistakable look of concern on your face as you watch the fight unfold. Your hand finds its way to the base of your throat, playing nervously with the rose-gold pendant resting there. You crane your neck to get a better view of the ring, your pupils flitting back and forth between Harry and the frighteningly large man looming over him.

A warm rush of adrenaline floods Harry’s veins. The saliva that has gathered in his mouth tastes stale on his tongue. He spits it out as he staggers to his feet. The crowd grows louder, somehow.

The Wall’s smile shrinks as Harry assumes his previous position; his hands orient themselves in front of his face. His opponent gnashes his teeth, seemingly annoyed with the fact that the match has not ended. Harry shakes off the dizziness clouding his brain, and then he’s lunging forward with a newfound sense of determination. He throws punch after punch, sidestepping The Wall’s returning attempts. All he can think about is the fact that you’re up there, watching, waiting, worrying. He never wants to see you like that again.

You’re his goddamn lucky charm.

His victory comes in the form of an uppercut followed immediately by a nasty right hook. The Wall—this big, towering man with bulging biceps and rippling pectorals—crumples to the ground. Harry waits, his chest heaving with exertion as the countdown begins. He’s prepared to watch his opponent rise again, to shift back into a fighting stance and start over. But as the seconds trickle by and The Wall remains motionless on the ground, he soon finds the tension in his body seeping out into the hot, sticky air.

His shoulders sag in relief as a single promising word echoes through the grimy arena.

“Knockout!”

~*~

The crowd thins out considerably in the ten minutes following the termination of the match. Harry stumbles out of the ring, sliding through the ropes and pulling his mouthguard from between his lips. Your father is waiting for him with a smile on his face, holding out an arm and helping him jump down from the raised platform.

“Well done, H,” he says, patting his back proudly.

Harry pants and nods. Your father holds out a reusable water bottle for him to take—he accepts it graciously and gulps down the cold liquid with fat, greedy slurps. Once he pulls the nozzle away from his mouth, he runs the back of his hand over his face to catch any stray droplets that have collected on his chin.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“You took a pretty hard fall, there,” your father says, guiding him to sit down on a bench propped up against the wall. “Medic’s in the back. He’s checking out Aaron right now, but you’re next.” He taps his index finger against Harry’s temple. “We’ve got to make sure everything’s alright up there.”

Harry sucks in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Who the fuck is Aaron?”

“Oh.” Your father laughs. “Aaron. The Wall. Whatever you want to call him.”

Harry frowns. “Don’t like that. Makes him sound like a dick.”

A new voice enters the conversation.

“That’s because he is.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side, and there you are.

You look nice, as usual. There’s something about you that he can never seem to properly describe. You always look so…clean. If he tried to vocalize his thoughts, he’s sure that you would look at him like he was crazy.

But in his head, it makes sense. You take care of yourself. Your nails are spotless, your hair smells good, and he knows that you must dab spritzes of perfume onto your pulse points before you leave the house, because a fresh scent follows you wherever you go. Even now, as you stand a few feet away with your hands on your hips, he catches it on a deep inhale. Not flowery, not fruity, just…clean. Refreshing. Light. Breezy.

Your father snaps him out of his reverie, and he realises that he should probably stop listing every word in the thesaurus.

“How do you know?” Your father’s inquiry is curious. He shoots you a puzzled look, his mouth curling down into a soft scowl.

You roll your eyes. “Called me ‘sweet thing’ before the match started and asked me if I was the prize,” you say, sticking your tongue out in disdain. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Harry’s lips twitch.

Your father chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “What time are we leaving?” you ask. The question is directed at your father, who is fiddling with the drawstrings hanging from his sweater. “I was hoping to study a bit more before bed.”

“Soon, gioia,” your father says. “As soon as Harry gets checked out, we’ll be on our way.”

You nod, and—for what feels like the first time since you cut into the interaction—you glance down at Harry. “Hi,” you say softly, shooting him a small, friendly smile.

He meets your gaze for only a moment. Everything about you is so gentle. Your irises are like melted pots of honey, regarding him with such warmth he feels like he’ll never be cold again. “Hi.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you murmur. Harry wants to bottle your voice and save it as a keepsake. “You made a great comeback.”

Because of you, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “Thank you,” he offers up instead, the words scraping against the roof of his mouth and tumbling unceremoniously into the air between you.

A moment of silence ensues as you wait for him to say something—anything—else. But he’s done. You nod once before turning back to your father, who is tweaking the settings of the watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Do you know where the washrooms are?” you ask. You toy absentmindedly with the necklace hanging from your throat. “I need to pee.”

“You can use the one in the women’s locker room,” your father tells you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Around the corner, first door on the left.”

“Thanks,” you say, slipping by and pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He just nods in agreement, still too preoccupied with his watch.

Harry, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk away. He takes note of the way that you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you shoulder the strap of your purse to keep it from slipping down your arm, how you walk with a purpose despite being so moderate and kind. His gaze falls momentarily to the sway of your hips, the enticing nature of your waist. He stares for a long moment before tearing away, clearing his throat and blinking a few times in quick succession.

“Proud of you, H,” your father pipes up, tapping the face of his watch twice before dropping his arm with a sigh. “You did well out there.”

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. A spark of guilt flares up in his chest when he realises that he had been blatantly ogling you with your father standing only a few feet off to the side. He silently berates himself, shaking his head free of any alluring thoughts.

Your father’s phone chirps with the arrival of a new notification. He fishes the device out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.

“Let’s go,” he tells Harry, jerking his head to the right. “Medic’s ready for you, now.”

    January 13, 2021

“C’mon, H, be smart with it! Watch how he angles himself!”

And Harry’s trying, really, but Arthur—or Artie, as your father likes to call him—is a hunkering titan of a man. He used to be your father’s star athlete before retiring, and now…now he’s working in finance, or something akin to that. Harry isn’t one hundred percent sure; he usually zones out when people begin to discuss the stock market.

Artie throws a right hook, but Harry sees it coming and blocks it with ease. They move in a circle, focussed only on each other while other individuals outside of the ring totter around.

Harry prefers to train on weekdays during the afternoon, because that’s when the gym isn’t as packed. Right now, only a handful of other people are working out, lifting weights or doing cardio exercises. Harry and Artie are here so often that nobody even blinks an eye anymore. And your father…well, he runs the place. Of course he would be here.

The sparring continues. When Harry refuses to make the first move, Artie sticks one glove out, beckoning him forward. “Come here, pretty boy.”

“Don’t make me pull your hair,” Harry grits, because Artie’s ponytail is swinging temptingly from beneath his headgear.

The other man laughs good-naturedly before lunging. Harry blocks his uppercut and delivers a strong, pointed jab right to the middle of his chest. Artie stumbles backward, inhaling sharply as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Harry bites back a smile.

“Nice, H!” your father calls.

“Thanks, Coach,” he mutters.

The front door of the gym opens, accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell to announce the new arrival. Harry’s attention is reflexively drawn toward the direction of the sound, and his heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs.

You’re there, with your hair tied back in a low bun and silver hoops hanging from your ears. You’re holding a tray of coffee in your left hand, and there’s a warm smile on your face. You wave excitedly as you greet Portia, the middle-aged woman sitting behind the front desk. The two of you chat as you shrug off your jacket and tug the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your mouth moves languidly. Though Harry is too far to hear your voice, he has a pretty good idea of what you’re saying. Your eyes widen and you shiver dramatically, shaking your head.

It’s cold!

A heavy fist makes contact with the side of his jaw, and he falls to the ground.

Your father’s loud exclamation pulls your attention away from Portia and toward the ring on the opposite end of the room. Harry groans lowly as he pushes himself to his knees, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. When he turns to face your father, he finds him frowning through the gaps between the ropes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, shooting Harry a disappointed look.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet with a grunt. “Got distracted.”

He chances a glance back at you, and his shoulders grow tense when he realises that you’re making your way over to the ring, the tray of coffee held between your hands like a peace offering.

“Hello, boys,” you singsong. “I brought drinks.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” your father says as you hand him his designated cup. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. You hum happily in response.

“Jason!” you call out as Artie approaches the side of the ring. “I got your lemonade.”

“Thanks, little girl,” Artie hums, accepting his drink graciously and taking a long sip from the straw. “And for the hundredth time, stop calling me ‘Jason’.”

“Stop calling me ‘little girl’,” you shoot back, laughing deviously. “I can’t help it if you look like him, okay? You’re even the same age, too.” You cock one eyebrow. “Should I start calling you ‘Aquaman’ instead?”

“God, no.” Artie shakes his head vehemently. “Let’s stick to Jason. ’Least that’s a real name.”

You giggle as he ambles away. Your eyes shift over to Harry—who has kept silent the entire time—and your lips curl up into a kind smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi.” His voice is guttural.

“Last, but not least,” you murmur, plucking his drink from the tray and holding it up for him to take. “One black coffee, right?”

“Right,” he confirms with a curt nod. He tugs his bulky gloves off, dropping them to the floor and reaching out to accept the cup. A strong spark pricks at his hand when his fingers brush against yours. Your responding gasp is soft, barely-noticeable—if he weren’t so painfully aware of everything you do, he would have missed it completely.

“Thank you,” he says, guiding the coffee to his mouth and taking a small sip.

“No problem.” You smile up at him again, and God, that fucking smile. He wants it tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids. A wave of heat blooms in his chest and creeps up his neck, but thankfully, the pink flush blends in with his sweat-slicked, already-rosy skin.

“How was class, sweetheart?” your father asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It was good.” You shrug, tossing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m going to head home now, though—I have a proposal due in a few days and I really need to get started.”

“Go, go,” your father concedes. You bid him goodbye before standing on your tiptoes and craning your neck to catch sight of Artie, who is quite evidently enjoying his lemonade.

“Bye, Jason!”

“Bye, little girl!”

You laugh. Your gaze lands on Harry again, eyes sparkling and features resolutely tender. “Bye, Harry.”

He swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “Bye.”

    January 16, 2021

Harry’s workout playlist features a lot of Ariana Grande.

He just thinks that she’s good, okay?

But he knows that Artie and your father would never let him hear the end of it, so he keeps that information private. During practice, he’ll endure whatever shitty tunes Artie picks from his own library, and he won’t say a word. He’s not in the ring to dance, anyway. He’s there to make money—albeit illegally—because quite frankly, he hasn’t discovered an aptitude for anything else.

It’s late—the gym is technically closed. But the great thing about having the owner for a coach is the fact that Harry was given another key to add to his collection. Your father doesn’t care, as long as he locks up after he’s done. Harry has spent more time here than at his own home, he imagines. It’s nice when it’s quiet—it gives him plenty of time to think.

The back of his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. He’s gazing at the ceiling as he lifts the heavy weights up and down over his torso. A bubbly song is playing on his phone, keeping his energy high.

So what if he listens to Ariana Grande? She makes great music.

The distinctive sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He pauses, setting the weightlifting bar back onto its rack and sitting up quickly. The noise is coming from the stairs that lead down to the swimming pool in the basement. Harry stands, and though his muscles are already screaming from previous exertion, he readies himself for the worst.

You appear at the top of the flight, your slippers smacking against each step loudly. You’re ruffling a towel against your wet hair, your head angled to the side as you squeeze out any excess water. Upon catching sight of Harry, you freeze in your tracks.

“Oh. Harry. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says slowly. “I…didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” you reply wryly, a small smirk making its way onto your lips.

Harry scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Er…I was just working out.”

You nod, your expression coy. “I can see that.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Harry clears his throat, rubbing his jaw with his fingers because what else is he supposed to do? “Were you—did you go for a swim?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your shoulders deflate, like you’re almost grateful that he’s contributed more to the conversation. “Spent half the time doing laps, and the other half on my phone.” Your lips quirk up with the feeble joke.

Harry chuckles weakly. “That’s just how it is, sometimes.”

Your eyes flutter shut for only a moment. “Yeah.”

More silence. Harry chews nervously on his bottom lip. Why the fuck can’t he speak?

The song playing from his phone changes. Your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly when a few upbeat notes trickle into the air, followed immediately by the smooth crooning of a woman’s voice. “Is this…,” you hesitate, and he can see how you’re fighting a smile, “…Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Uh,” he says dumbly, uncertain of how to proceed. Sure enough, I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen is filtering through the taut atmosphere, painfully loud now that the two of you are truly paying attention to it.

A high-pitched laugh falls from your mouth, and your shoulders shake with the force of your amusement. Harry, unable to help himself, begins to chuckle along with you. Heat blooms across his cheeks, but he’s not as embarrassed as he thought he’d be. Your giggles aren’t derisive, he realises.

He’s nearly overcome with the urge to take you in his arms, then, but he resists.

“Late night, watching the television…,” you sing quietly, and then you’re dissolving into merriment all over again.

Once your joint laughter subsides, you shoot him a bright grin. Harry tries his best to return it, though he doesn’t think that he mirrors your smile to its full extent. You sigh in delight, shouldering the strap of your bag and tossing your towel over your forearm.

“That honestly made my night,” you tell him, utterly sincere.

His heart somersaults in his chest. “’M glad.”

“Well,” you say, shrugging gently, “I should probably go.”

“Yeah.” His response is hollow. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He lies back down with a grunt as you make your way toward the exit. His fingers wrap around the weightlifting bar, about to pull it off of its resting place, when your voice suddenly rings out again.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He sits up too quickly, nearly catching his forehead against the metal of the bar. When he turns around to face you, he finds you doubling back, approaching him and nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.

“I actually—,” you pause, like you’re unsure of how to continue, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure,” he says, rubbing his hands over the black shorts covering his thighs. “Go ahead.”

“It might be kind of weird,” you warn. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He shakes his head, blinking solemnly. “I won’t.”

“Would you—,” you begin, and your fingers come up to play with the pendant resting at the base of your throat, “—teach me how to box?”

“I—,” Harry recoils slightly, taken aback by your question. “What?”

“Would you teach me how to box?” you repeat, though your voice is significantly smaller. “I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Against what?” he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” You wave away his worries with an inattentive flick of your hand. Harry’s eyes narrow as he studies your face. You refuse to meet his gaze.

You’re lying, he realises, straight through your pretty teeth. But it would be impolite of him to pry, wouldn’t it? And this is the first time that the two of you have ever been really, truly alone; he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Okay,” he says slowly, even though he doesn’t believe your guarantee.

He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and wiping his face with the fabric. When he fixes his gaze on you once more, he thinks he catches your eyes drifting across his torso. Cocking one eyebrow curiously, he climbs to his feet.

“What do you want to learn?” he asks, reaching for his phone and pausing the music streaming from the device.

“Anything,” you say breathlessly. “Everything.”

His lips twitch.

“I—,” he scratches at his nose with two fingers, “—I don’t really have a set schedule, you know, between practice and actual matches.”

“I know.” You nod understandingly.

“And I know you have school,” he continues, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” you tell him. There’s something strong burning in your eyes; he can’t quite figure out what it is. “I want to train. Just…don’t tell my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. He swallows heavily, offering his phone to you. “Put your number in, yeah? I’ll text you on the nights I’m free, and if you’re not too busy, we can meet up here.”

“Alright,” you concede softly. You take the device from him, and he pretends not to notice just how badly your hands are shaking. Your nails tap quietly against the screen, and before you know it, you’re passing the phone back to him with your information saved under a new contact.

“Alright,” Harry echoes.

The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The spell is broken, however, when you finally take a step back, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“I should go,” you say. “For real, this time.”

“For real.” Harry nods.

“You’ll lock up, right?” you ask, retreating toward the exit.

“Yup,” he says, popping the last letter instinctively. At that, you smile, your mouth curling up into a soft, inviting crescent.

“Okay,” you murmur, placing one hand on the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He watches you go with forlorn eyes and empty lungs. “Goodnight.”

~*~

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[stardustdiaries]

Frozen over - Dincember day7: Cold

☆ @dindjarindiaries ☆

Pairing: Madalorian x reader

Summary: The reader's body is intolerant to the cold and all sense of self-preservation is tossed out the window when the Crest crashes and Mando is out cold.

Warnings: Descriptions of the effects of extremely cold weather, soft!Mando, fluff aaaand I think that's it!

Word count: 2,553

A/N: I can't believe I actually wrote this- aH! I ♡shamefully♡ dropped writing a few years back, so I'm a bit rusty, but feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!

○●○●○●○

After months of travelling with the beskar-cladded Mandalorian as a mechanic, there are many things about said armored man that you picked up on rather quickly. Like how his actions we’re cautious, calculated and precise, or how he seemed to be a tad bit more protective than usual whenever you were out on a supply-run as he was after a bounty.

You also noticed how quick he was to pick up on your own quirks and needs as well.

It all began on one of your first bounty hunts with him, finding yourselves in a slightly-colder-than-normal planet as you followed the beeping of the tracking fob that was clutched in Mando's gloved hand. It wasn’t until the job was done that he took notice of your shivering figure next to him- even when you were wearing layers upon layers of clothing. His heart then dropped at the sight of the bright shade of blue that painted your fingertips.

He had then ushered you back to the Crest and did everything in his power to warm you up, even going as far as wrapping his cape around your shoulders in hopes that your trembling body would soon come to a rest. That’s when he found out about your body’s intolerance to the cold. Mando would then make sure to stock up on gloves, scarves and, he won’t admit this out loud, but he also made sure to buy you a cape of your own simply because he absolutely adored how his looked on you. That, and he loved matching with you, but that’s his own little secret.

Fast forward a few months of the Crest breaking down, run-ins with bounty hunters, late-night talks and hints of flirting, and here you are, stumbling through the hull of the fallen Crest. How you ended up in this situation was hard for you to remember, but the memory of the distress in Mando's modulated voice was enough to make you scramble up the ladder to the cockpit where you last saw him.

Rushing into the cockpit, your breath caught itself in your throat at the sight of Mando’s slumped figure- completely unmoving. Immediately, you fell to your knees by his side, your bare hands reaching up to his shoulders to give him a soft shake. “Mando?” The concern lacing your words was hard to hide when he didn’t respond to your voice. “Dank farrik, Mando please stay with me. Please.” you begged, noticing the icy coating that began to spread over the surface of his armor. With a sigh and a grunt of effort, you straightened his limp figure on the pilot seat and pulled down the cloth around his neck just enough to press your fingers against his skin. Once making contact and feeling his pulse, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but shoot, he was freezing.

You must have crashed on an ice planet.

Without much thinking, you tumbled down back into the hull and grabbed all of your blankets, scarves and capes after pulling on your gloves. Holding the bundle close to your chest, you sped to where the Child was put to rest on his little compartment. Upon seeing him, you ran through the same process of checking for a pulse and then proceeded to wrap him up with some of your blankets and scarves. Once you were done making sure the Child was safe from the bitter cold that seeped through the metal walls, you ran up to do the same with Mando. You finished wrapping the last of the bundle around his shoulders before your tried working the controls of the ship.

What happened? Zip, zero, nada.

The ship’s dead and considering that you had no clue what was wrong with it, you would have to do a full inspection as you waited for Mando to wake up.

You packed up your tools and quickly got to work, running checkups on the ship's inner systems and mechanisms, not being able to tell what was keeping the Crest from functioning the way it should. There seemed to be nothing you could do inside until you managed to fix the lights and you would need some of Mando’s help with that. Right now, all you could do was find out if something had gotten damaged on the outer side of the ship. Summoning all of your strength, you trudged through the deep blanket of white powder that surrounded, well- everything.

You have no idea where in the galaxy the Crest had crashed, but the snowfall was strong.

Quickly, you inspected the radiators, turbines and whatever could’ve been damaged before the ship even crashed.

And then you saw it. Dank farrik, this wasn’t good.

The left engine was royally messed up, looking as if it was mere seconds away from giving way right before the crash. It could take weeks to get it up to its usual functionality if you found the right parts for the full repair. However, you might just get it running long enough for you to fly the Crest to some nearby workshop- if there was even one on the planet.

After minutes of fumbling with your tools and hitting the wrong part for the hundredth time in a row, a string of curses flew past your lips, your breath being caught in the cold air before vanishing. To say you were cold was a complete and total understatement; you were sure you were mere seconds away from freezing to death. Your body shook violently as the frigid air pricked and attacked your skin mercilessly.

But you were stubborn- sometimes too stubborn for your own good.

With annoyance etched onto your features, you ripped your gloves off and tossed them to the side. After that, you were on autopilot, getting a better grip on your tools and doing the best you could even as your bones began to ache due to the weather around you.

Time apparently went by faster than you thought as the rapid sounds of footsteps clambering around the insides of the ship fell into your ears.

“Cyare!”

Your head snapped up, your nose stinging when you scrunched it in confusion. Shakily, you dropped your tools, wrapping your arms tightly around your torso as a sad attempt to warm yourself in any way possible. Maker, you’re pretty sure your fingers lost feeling a few minutes ago.

“Dank farrik-  Cyare!”

You pushed yourself up to your knees with trembling arms, peering over the edge of the Crest and down to where the calls seemed to come from. There, you saw Mando, who frantically looked for you as he now held in his hands the bundle of capes and blankets you had previously draped over him.

“I-I'm up he-here, M-Mando!” you called, cursing your teeth for clattering so much. Gosh, your chest was tight.

At the sound of your voice, Mando whipped around, tilting his head up in your direction.

Maker, his heart dropped at the sight of you. Your nose, and fingers were a bright shade of blue and your hair was greatly dusted and soaked with the snow that got caught in it. Your skin was flushed, drained of its usual color. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you were frozen solid.

“Cyar’ika,” he sighed, his modulator doing nothing to mask the concern that heavily dripped from his words. “Why would you- why would you leave without any protection?” His arms stretched out to show the bundle you had left him with for emphasis.

You forced a lazy smile, but you’re sure it came out more like a grimace. “I di-didn’t leave c-complet-tely unprotect-ted.” You started, “M-my gloves a-are, um,” you looked around, trying to find your discarded gloves. “s-somewhere around h-here.” At that, you clenched and unclenched your fists, trying to get some feeling back to your fingers.

Mando shook his head, tilting his helmet sympathetically at you. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer to the ship, his visor not looking away from your shivering figure. “Can you…are you able to climb down?”

Your heart warmed at his concern and you managed to give him a nod through all of your shivering. Slowly, you tried climbing onto your feet, only to trip back down and land on your frozen rear. With a weak grunt falling past your lips, you looked down at your feet, sighing in realization.

“Cyar'ika?”

“I, u-um, I ca-can't feel my f-feet.”

Mando cursed under his breath, with words travelling through the modulator as a simple crackle that’s whisked away by the cold winds. His voice is strained, almost as if he’s struggling to get the words out when he parts his lips. “Do you trust me?”

Almost instantly, a laugh erupted from your pale lips, the sound so soft and warm that he swore it could melt this entire planet in seconds. His heart fluttered as you looked at him with gleaming eyes, even if he could tell you were struggling against the cold to keep them open. “W-what kind o-of question is th-that?” You breathed shallowly; your lungs tired after your burst of laughter. “Of co-course I do.”

Was that what he wanted to hear? Yes. But…something about hearing those words tumble out of your mouth pulled heavily at his heartstrings. He smiled under the helmet, fully knowing that you weren’t able to see it.

Dropping your capes and blankets somewhere inside the ship, he walked back out and stretched out his arms to you. You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head rapidly.

“I thought you said you trusted me?” he tilted his head at you, arms still stretched out.

“I-I do, I j-just—”

Mando chuckled softly, “I’ll catch you,” he spoke up, watching how your freezing figure curled up into itself. “I won’t let you fall, cyar'ika.”

“P-promise?”

“Promise.”

Even with the tightness and stiffness of the air around you, your muscles somehow managed to relax and loosen up at the sound of his voice.

Or maybe it was how lightheaded you were starting to feel?

You crawled to the edge of the Crest, taking one last look down at Mando before squeezing your eyes shut.

Call it a trust fall of sorts.

With one final breath, you pushed yourself off the top of Crest and let yourself fall.

What were you expecting? Probably to gently fall into his arms in the most romantic way ever. But the truth? Let’s say that you somehow ended up lying on his beskar-platted chest as his back was pressed to the powdery ground.

Maybe it was the shock or your lack of feeling, but you hadn’t noticed how his arms were tightly wrapped around you. His chest lifted you up and dropped you softly as he breathed and you couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened.

“H-how graceful of u-us,” you breathed, a smile curling the corners of your mouth. “Too b-bad we couldn’t re-record it.”

Once Mando noticed how your body relaxed on top of him, he spoke up softly. “Cyar'ika, don’t close your eyes,” he pushed himself up with one arm and held you close to his chest with his other tightly wrapped around you. “Stay with me a little longer, okay?”

“Y-you're warmer t-than I’d thought yo-you'd be.” You smiled lazily, visibly struggling to keep your eyes opened and focused on his visor.

Carrying you bridal-style into the Crest, he gently placed you on the ground before taking off his gloves and cupping your face in his hands. He sucked in a sharp breath, frowning under the helmet. “You’re freezing.”

You snickered under your breath, letting your head rest against the metal walls of the hull as your eyes fluttered a few times.

“Hey, hey, stay awake, cyar'ika. I need to warm you up before you go under, okay?” Modulator and all, you could still hear the concern that laced his words tightly. “Can you stay awake for me?”

You hummed softly, the sound barely loud enough to reach Mando’s ears. Immediately, Mando ran off to the makeshift kitchenette that he somehow managed to fit into the ship. He grabbed a clean bucket from a corner and filled it with water hot enough to warm you up.

When he came back, he gently picked you up before placing you on top of a crate, lifting your feet just enough to dip them into the bucket. He then proceeded to grab a new pair of gloves from your compartment and slip them onto your hands. As he worked, he could see your body loosen up from the shivering slightly.

Draping your blankets over your shoulders, he dared release the question that dangled from the tip of his tongue.

“Why did you do it?”

“Why d-did I do what?”

He sighed, lowering himself onto his knees to be at eye level with you. There, he took in your appearance- flushed skin, blue nose, pale lips. You knew conditions like these could harm you more than they should- more than they would harm him.

“Why did you go out without your layers, cyar’ika? Why did you… why did you give them to me?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your head dropped slightly before you looked back up at him. “Your armor,” you breathed.

Mando tilted his head, urging you to continue.

“It was frosted over a-and you were out cold.” You nodded at him, making him look down at the frost that had once again began to spread over the surface of his armor. “I then gave the child my other scarves and blankets, to make sure he was okay. I needed to keep you warm if I wanted to make sure you’d wake up.”

Mando’s heart plummeted to his stomach. Your body wasn’t capable of tolerating the cold like most could and you were still concerned about keeping him and the Child warm. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of someone being so recklessly selfless.

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you so you could look at him. Without even thinking, you leaned into the warmth of his touch, sending his heart into a frenzy.

“Promise me that if this ever happens again, you’ll make sure to take care of yourself too. I can’t have you risking yourself like this for me.”

You pouted childishly, making his eyes soften as he continued to focus on you.

“Mando, I-"

“Promise me that, please, cyar’ika.” He begged, gently caressing your cheeks as he spoke.

Humming at his touch, you offered him a reassuring smile as you nodded softly.

That was enough for him.

As night creeped its way onto the sky, covering the land like a thick blanket, Mando has stripped himself of his armor- except for his helmet- and now held you in his arms. The warmth of his touch spreading through your body nurtured you back to health. Your eyes flutter a few times as he pulls you closer to his body, your heart swelling at the gentle gesture.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” his rasp is gentle, almost as if he were afraid of startling you. He pulled your blankets tighter around you, smiling at how the corners of your lips curled up. “it’s my turn to keep you warm now.”

[jungcity]

love, eternal. | iv

genre: reincarnation!au, fallen angel!au

[supernatural-ish, angst, use of blunts and intoxicants, extra asshole jaehyun, smut, vulgar words]

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

words: 9k

notes: it’s been really hard for me to write these past few days. i don’t know if i’m writing sense into this fic. but i do hope that you enjoy this chapter! please leave some feedbacks (bad or good is appreciated! :) ) it would really mean a lot to me! thank you so much! also, this chapter is unedited, so forgive the errors xx

part i | part ii | part iii | part v

“There is a halo in your mouth

and I like how it burns.”

— Sincerely, Joanna

You lay in bed awake, the kiss you shared with Jaehyun occupying almost all the space in your brain. Tugging on your hair, you forced yourself to sleep and not let yourself drown into the feeling— for the kiss still lingers on your lips, making your chest swell in unbelievable happiness.

The dinged of your phone pulled you out of your fantasy, you grabbed it from the nightstand and saw Soojin’s name displayed on the notification panel.

[Are u ok? R u home?]

You typed in your answer, squinting from the brightness of the screen.

[Yes. I’m home. U?]

But before you decided to keep your phone, Yuta’s caller ID flashed on the screen. A frown slid past your lips, then you slide the red button. You currently do not have the energy to deal with anyone. But you at least owe Soojin a message to let her know that you’re home safe.

You stare at the ceiling, the image of Jaehyun flashing into the white color above. Jaehyun’s lips tasted of tequila and mint— so soft against yours. Out of all the boys that you’ve kissed in your lifetime, the one you shared with Jaehyun stood amongst others. Yes, you’ve kissed boys when you were drunk or sober, but none of their kisses made you feel light yet heavy— like you were flying and drowning at the same time. It thrilled you to the bones. You subconsciously touched your lips just to feel it one last time, and just to prove yourself that it happened. Jaehyun kissed you, and you kissed him back.

The realization of how happy you were of the experience blows your mind, and that how the touch of his lips felt like a distant memory. The caress of his lips, so familiar you started to wonder if you’d ever kiss him before.

But that’s impossible, right?

Dreaming again? The voice inside you asked.

You stare at the queen size four poster bed. Roaming your eyes around the room, you saw a vanity resting at the corner in front of the gothic-styled windows, and a dresser probably bigger than the bathroom you have home is located on the side.

The thick red curtains drapes down, their edges touching the tiled floor. You spotted a vintage hand mirror on the nightstand, the glass reflecting that of a moonstone you wonder if it’s used to mirror things or just a mere display. Shrugging, you placed it back and sat on the bed.

Your butt slightly sunk into the soft mattress, allowing a soft gasp to escape your lips. The mattress was so inviting, you laid on the pillows, and the same happened to your head— it also sunk in the cushion. You could sleep forever if you wished to. For there was no one in the whole room but you.

A sudden tardiness hugged your body whole as you lay still, your mind blank from everything. Not even the kiss you shared with Jaehyun could make you think of something other than the comfort of the room. You wonder who could be the owner of such a classic and magnificent room. He or she must be sophisticated to have owned such grandiose space. Despite the somnolence, you compelled yourself to stand. The room felt suddenly eerie because of its vastness. You would’ve shivered if not for the sunlight that’s infiltrating it through the glass windows.

Roaming your eyes for the second time around, your vision caught sight of the small veranda attached to the room, making you realized that it must be located on the top floors of a house. You pulled yourself up, the cold tiled floor biting on your soles. Barefooted, you walked to the veranda, night dress swaying in every step.

Vast green fields greeted you as you pushed the door open. Tall trees standing here and there with thick foliages. There was one who bends on the veranda: making everything looked like a Romeo and Juliet’s scene.

There was an easel supporting a finished canvas. Paintbrushes and different oil pigments sat atop a table beside it. A separate table with teacups and spoons resides in the nearest corner with two chairs around it.

Everything seems like a fairytale. The whole place felt so removed from the loudness of the society. A dream you once had as a child; serenity, with only your canvas, paintbrushes and pigments beside you. Now here it is, and it felt so real, kindling an ember inside you it could start a fire. You inhaled.

You stepped closer to the canvas. The hues of it being illuminated by the sunlight made everything so marvelous. It was bright, it was alive, and it feels like your own.

“Fallen angel,” you breathed.

It was an angel, falling from the heavens. Wings splayed, like he forgot how to use them and blend with the wind. The artwork gave the impression of an unending fall. His eyes had that horror of being banished, yet when you look at the wholeness of his face, you saw the fury that lies within.

“It is indeed a fallen angel,”

You jumped and turned around to greet the voice. Heart hammering against your chest, you saw a pretty woman standing behind you. Hair black as the night, eyes as the blue of the skies— she’s the one you saw in your reflection in the mirror. How?

“I am Aurora,” She extended her hands. You looked at her outstretched hands before reluctantly taking it with your hands and shaking it. It was so soft. No callouses could be felt.

“I am… Y/N.”

Aurora smiled. You’ve never seen someone as beautiful except for Jaehyun. She looked like a goddess ready to bring peace in to the Earth. Her smooth steps enthralled you, every move of her feet towards the canvas is like a silent wave of the waters in the ocean.

“This is unfinished.”

Her voice. It could lull any crying children to sleep; so soft, so serene.

“Really? What could be missing?”

You both stare at it and you noticed that your dresses are similar to each other.

“A tear.” She smiled at you. “Will you do the honors of completing it for me?”

Even if you don’t understand a single thing, specially her favor, you nodded. What could possibly be the reason of her asking for you if she could paint it on her own? And as if she heard the voices in your mind, she turned to you.

“I… don’t have the ability to finish it anymore.”

There was sadness in her eyes which quickly reflected on you. Almost like you feel what she currently feels. So you grab the paintbrush and started to dip it on the pigments. With Aurora guiding you, she pointed where exactly to put the tear. You oblige and started painting it.

“It’s don…e.”

Where is Aurora? You searched for her with your keen eyes, but there wasn’t any trace to tell you where did she possibly go. The door is silent, a proof that no one pushed it. All that you could hear is the rustling of winds against the leaves.

You longed to touch the canvas, to feel the bumpiness of the paint against it. Hair’s breadth away, you suddenly curled your finger. It was so perfect that you’d feel ashamed to taint it with your hands, even though you touched it with brushes, it feels wrong to let your hand feel it. So you look and look at it until you drank all the details in, with a promise to recreate it once you wake up.

Three knocks, those were the sounds that woke you up out of slumber. You heard the muffled voice of your sister against the door that’s separating you from the life outside.

“There’s a delivery for you,” said she, voice a bit louder for you to hear. You told her you’re awake, and that you’d just compose yourself so she should entertain the delivery personnel for a minute.

Delivery? You rack your brain of anything, thinking of the last thing you purchased online. And that is a new drawer to keep your art materials in place.

With a creased brow, you swiftly tied your hair while still thinking of what could the delivery be. Then the realization slowly hit you, your eyes widened and you ran outside, abandoning your hair half tied into a bun.

“Good morning, miss.” The delivery boy greeted, a soft smile on his lips.

“G-good morning,” You stuttered, heart rumbling.

“We’re here to deliver the painting purchased by Mr. Jung. Is he around?” He was still smiling, eyes roaming around the living room, searching for a man who isn’t there.

You composed yourself by breathing in and out, silently wishing that Jaehyun has already handled the shipping fee.

“He’s not around. But can I… can I receive the parcel for him?” You asked, surprised that you’ve said the sentence without stuttering.

It would cause a lot of trouble if you tell them that you mistyped the address on the mail you sent their company, so it’s best that you accept the package instead of asking them to deliver it to Jaehyun’s house. And you’re certain Jaehyun would kill you one or another.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. But yes you can, Ma’am. Just show us your valid ID so we can tell Mr. Jung that one of his relatives accepted the parcel,”

You nodded at him and walked back to your room to gather your ID. He must’ve thought that Jung Jaehyun is living in this small apartment and that you’re one of his family members. The thought almost made you laugh and you scoff. Relative? I’m not even a friend, you mumbled.

You handed him the ID then he wrote your name on some paper and on the horizontal line at the end of a separate paper he’s laid on the table. He handed you the pen, then you wrote your signature above the name. He tipped his cap, walked back to the delivery vehicle and when he came back, he’s carrying an average sized parcel. By the looks of it, you bet the canvas is of the standard size. You guided him towards the sofa, where he laid the parcel carefully.

“Thank you,” You smiled, which he answered with the same gesture, tipping his cap again and bidding his goodbyes.

“What is that?” Yuqi asked, scrutinizing the parcel with a mug of hot chocolate on one hand. Sighing, you slumped in one of the sofas, covering your face with your hands.

“I’m seriously fucked up,” You told her.

“Why? What happened?”

“That is the parcel which was supposed to be delivered to Jung Jaehyun’s. Not here. I mistyped the address because of my agitation by Yuta’s arrival,”

“That jerk really couldn’t do anything right, could he?”

Yuqi was still a baby teen when she met Yuta, but her blood did not settle good in him. She warned you about her gut feelings towards him— that he’s bad news who’d shatter your heart in pieces. Guess what, in her young age, she was right.

“He even punched Jaehyun,”

“Wow! The audacity! Jaehyun could literally throttle him,” Yuqi stated, a scoff leaving her lips.

“Jaehyun did not fight back. Brawling with Yuta must’ve seemed so pathetic to him.”

“I guess so. Rich bachelors like him does not indulge themselves to useless—”

Your phone rang all the way to the room, making you jump in your seat and literally dive for it in your drawers. Jaehyun is calling. You gulped and pray before sliding the green button.

“The fuck is this, Y/N?! One job! You had one job! And you couldn’t even do it right!”

By his shouting, you pulled your phone away from your ear. You could see the veins in his forehead protrude in your mind, adding more to your anxiety.

“I’m—”

He breathed, “I don’t need your apology.” Then paused, “Deliver that here in thirty-minutes, or else…” He breathed again, and you swear your knees started to wobble. “You know what’d happen,”

Then he hang up. You hugged your phone to your chest, recollecting the sanity Jaehyun kicked out of your body. He couldn’t expect you to arrive in his penthouse in thirty-minutes when it’s literally one hour away from your house. But he’s Jung Jaehyun, and he always gets what he wants. It doesn’t matter how you get there, you just need to get there. Thirty-minutes, you dashed for the bathroom. Half an hour isn’t even enough to scrub your body clean. Dissatisfied from the five-minute bath, you rapidly put things in your bag and settled for a hoodie and pants.

Nice, twenty-minutes left. You didn’t even have any time to dry your hair, so you comb it on the way to the bus stop with the parcel tucked in your arms. It wasn’t as heavy as you’d expected it would be, but nonetheless, it was tiring to carry it all the way to the bus stop. Luckily, there’s already a bus waiting when you get there. You climbed on to the vehicle and made yourself comfortable by listening to some music.

It’s impossible to reach his place in less than twenty-minutes. So you disregard his death threats and think about something else. And that something else is the kiss you shared. Your heart suddenly made a jump, realizing that you’re going to Jaehyun’s house. The awkwardness settled in your bones, and the fact that you’ve never been there made you wary. You have no idea what to expect; a model walking out of his house?

Jaehyun doesn’t seem really interested in the opposite sex, but then he kissed you, ravenously. You blushed at the memory of him trying to suck the breath out of you.

The hotel where his penthouse is located loomed over you. You gasped while trying to see the peak of it, so high it made your nape hurt a little. And you frowned by the realization that you need to carry the parcel all the way to the top where his penthouse is located. Blowing out air from your mouth, you walked inside the hotel.

You stare at the canvas resting beside you while you stand in the elevator, wondering what kind of art it is. You’ve never taken Jaehyun to be fond of the arts, but here he is, proving your impressions wrong again. Coincidentally, you’ve also dreamed about a painting. Its memory already printed in your mind that your finger itch to start drawing it.

You stepped outside once the elevator door dinged, carrying the parcel in your hand. There was a single door at the end of the hallway. You have no idea how to tell Jaehyun that you’re already outside, and you don’t want to risk pushing the buttons and scanners in his door, so you sent him a text message instead, hoping that he wasn’t too busy to glance at it.

The door opened, but there was no one who greeted you. Automatic doors? Can’t relate, you whispered to yourself. You pushed the door wider, peeking your head on to the space. The whole house is as silent as a mausoleum. One word to describe the interiors? Magnificent. An expensive looking bachelor pad for a bachelor such as Jung Jaehyun. Everything in sight seems so modernized yet minimal. The hues of the furnitures blends in well with the color of the floor and walls. The ceiling is also high, and of course, a floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

You stepped your foot inside, expecting Jaehyun to appear in the corner to throttle you of your incompetence. Shaking the bad thoughts away, you completely entered the penthouse.

“Sir?” You called against the emptiness of it.

“Jaehyun! Faster!”

Chills ran down your whole body as you heard something erotic. It isn’t what you think it is, right? But the scattered clothes splayed on the sofas and floors told you that it is indeed what you think it is. Another grunt echoed of the whole floor, then a scream followed it. You couldn’t move your body. Maybe you wanted to run, or you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Because, Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stand and watch a live porn!

The moans and the grunts halted. And you still stood there, palms sweating with your forehead despite the ventilations.

“You’re here,”

“Holy mother of rectangles!” You jumped, your hand flying to your chest.

“I said thirty minutes,” Jung Jaehyun stated while leaning on the door frame with a glass of liquor in hand. He’s wearing a thin white long-sleeves, its fabric clinging on to his sweat beaded body, accentuating his chest and muscles. You thank God that he’s wearing pajamas, because let’s be honest, you’re not ready to see a limp dick today. God really do have mercy.

A girl slid her hands around Jaehyun’s chest. Despite her bedraggled hair, she is much fully clothed— maybe the clothes on the floors all belongs to Jaehyun. But you’re sure you’ve seen a female underwear— so the girl is not wearing her panties inside that body-fitted dress? You gulped down the thoughts. People could be really wild sometimes.

Wet, sloppy kisses filled the whole floor. You could only assume that the girl was giving open-mouthed kisses to Jaehyun’s back.

“Until next time baby,” She cooed, grabbing his crotch— grabbing his crotch?!— in front of you. She made it seem like there’s nobody standing there with them. You wanted to gag, but there was something in Jaehyun’s eyes as he looked at you while the girl literally shoved her hand inside his pajamas, doing God-knows-what with his penis.

The intensity of his stare suddenly makes it harder for you to breath. You felt something in your stomach uncurl as Jaehyun’s mouth slightly parted by the pleasure he’s currently feeling. Run, damn it. But your body felt leaden and you couldn’t move your feet. As much as you wanted to deny it, Jaehyun’s pleasured face made you feel hot all over. To your face down and in between your legs.

If the girl doesn’t stop giving Jaehyun a handjob, and if Jaehyun, himself, wouldn’t stop staring at you with that gaze, your knees would absolutely collapse any time soon. And as if Jaehyun saw your predicament, he pushed the girl away.

“See you soon,” Jaehyun muttered. Then the girl leaned forward, giving his neck a sloppy kiss.

You tucked the strands of you hair behind your ear, suddenly embarrassed of letting yourself watch the little scene that unfolded before you. The sound of heels echoed everywhere when the girl walked past, completely ignoring your whole existence. Like you didn’t just see her give your boss a handjob.

Jaehyun walked towards you while drinking the liquor in one go. Eyebrow already raised as he stood face to face with you. You didn’t meet his gaze, for the fear that he might see how flustered you were right now. And you didn’t want to give him any satisfaction of knowing that you were affected of his little foreplay exhibit.

You cleared your throat then offered him the parcel, “Here.”

He pointed the sofa with his lips. You have no other choice but to oblige. Heaviness tried to pull on your feet as you walked to the sofa, your nerves still in a frenzy as you lay the parcel above the cushion.

Jaehyun was still standing behind you, watching you like a prey he’s not sure whether to kill or to let go. Either way, you forced your feet to move, and walked past him. You have no more business to do for him, and you badly wanted to go home. The scene the two of them made in front of you is enough to knock your consciousness and put you in a coma. And maybe you’d need a dextrose full of holy water to cleanse your body.

He stopped you by holding your arm, “Where are you going?”

You deadpanned, “Home.”

“The kitchen is there. Make me something to eat,” He pointed with his finger, with the hand still holding the empty glass.

You stared at him, not believing his words. He didn’t just order you to make him food when he literally made some random girl give him a handjob while you’re watching, right? What kind of drug is he inhaling? You badly want to try some. Just to become as detached as him.

“It’s Sunday, Jaehyun.” You reminded him, dropping all the professionalism to make him remember that he couldn’t boss you around outside of work. And that he should probably head inside a church and cleanse his soul of anything ungodly lurking within. But of course, you didn’t say that.

“Don’t make me repeat it again.” He warned, then walked back to his room, leaving you irritated. To do what, you have no idea— maybe he’ll jer— okay, calm down Y/N.

There’s no point making sense with Jung Jaehyun. The man thinks he owns everything and everyone around him. He’s standing on a pedestal higher than your own height. You know you can’t argue with people like that. So you trekked the direction Jaehyun motioned earlier, and then you found the kitchen. It’s a U-shaped kitchen with an island on the center. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the tall buildings outside.

You placed your bag above the island, then you sauntered up to the two-door refrigerator. Of course, even his refrigerator screams ‘rich’, full of goods you bet he doesn’t even try to cook nor eat. You grabbed something that is easy to cook— eggs. Maybe you’ll make a soufflé egg, or a pancake— or maybe a meal that he could eat until dinner. Then you shook your head and reminded yourself not to be frustrated over what he wants. He’s a grown ass man, he could take care of himself.

Yes, he’s a grown ass man who could definitely take care of himself. But here you are, cooking soy garlic chicken for him. Jaehyun was still nowhere to be found, giving your head at least the peacefulness it deserves.

You pondered about what happened earlier. A girl moaning inside his room, then that girl giving him a handjob in front of you. The realization of him kissing another girl after he kissed you hit home. It shouldn’t even hurt you, but it did. Does he badly wants to rub your kiss off his lips? Of course it was a mistake, you know that. But it didn’t feel wrong to you.

What is wrong with me?

You calmed yourself by drinking a glass of cold water, forcing to forget everything like how you forced to swallow the cold liquid. But you know that’s impossible. You couldn’t just forget a kiss like that.

To keep your mind off things, you decided to make a coffee for Jaehyun. The chicken is all ready, but he still locked up on his room. He should really give you a large bonus for your effort of dressing his breakfast plate. You laid all the food in the dining table: soufflé eggs, vegetable salad, hotdogs, soy garlic chicken, rice, and his coffee.

Jaehyun showed up the same moment you gathered your bag to go. He’s wearing fresh clothes on: black shirt with a new and clean sweatpants, hair still wet and his face looking refreshed. Obvious that he just got out of shower. You stopped yourself from asking what could be his skincare routine when you remembered that rich people like him doesn’t need one.

He eyed the foods laid on his dinner table, you’re sure it’s his first time seeing that many dishes for his breakfast. Did you overdo it? The sudden thought of making an effort for him made you blush. You’ve never cooked food for someone other than your mother and Yuqi before. The reality of doing it for the first time for someone— let alone a man— flustered you.

“I left some of the chicken in the oven, you can heat it up later for dinner. Eat well.” You started to walked away, but he grabbed you again when you trudge past him.

You inhaled, closing your eyes. What is it again? Somehow, being this close to him made you feel lightheaded. Because of what? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. The mere touch of his fingers could send electric bolts in your whole body and you didn’t like the way he makes you nervous just by being near.

“What more do you want, Jaehyun?” You snapped.

He doesn’t let go of your hand when he said, “Aside from sipping a nice and warm coffee, maybe I want you to bend over this very table so I can fuck you raw,”

Jesus Christ. The next thing you heard was a loud slap of skin to skin. You stare at him, dumbfounded with a stinging palm. His cheeks turned ruddy by the contact.

His head was still in a sideway position when he smirked. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, so loud and so frantic you thought you’d go deaf.

“Do you… do you really want a lawsuit filed against you, Jaehyun?” Surprisingly, your voice box is still working on your throat.

If Jaehyun could laugh because of your statement, he would. But he only stared at you as if you’re the whole circus.

“I’d like to see you try, chérie.”

The caress of his voice made your skin prickle. You dared stare at his eyes, into those dark orbs no one could ever read. Hatred that no one could quenched stared back at you, with the intensity of the storm that lies within fueling it. Convoluted as it was, the hatred isn’t meant for you. It’s more like a tattoo, permanent in his eyes. But hatred isn’t the only thing that was reflected in those eyes— there was something else: desire. You shivered. In defiance of the hate that’s showing vehemently on his irises, you couldn’t deny that Jaehyun’s beauty is not of this world. With his face looking ethereal like that, he could be a deity.

“I’m… going.” You gulped down saliva, trying to salve your thundering heart. He did not say anything, not a word when you turned your back on him and walked away.

But you could swear you felt him looking at your retreating back all the way to the door.

—

Jaehyun stared at the foods lay before him on the table. Unable to process why did you cook so many. He palmed his cheek before sitting, feeling like a thousand ant is crawling on his skin, the others biting. It was well-deserved though, for being so callous of his words. Yet the words that came out of his mouth was not a joke, just ended up lecherous. And the emotion on your face while you watch Mina giving him a handjob flashed in his mind without warning.

There and there, in your spot, with your innocent doe eyes trying not to run from the scene made something in him twitch. But your expression was so priceless— forcing yourself to not give up any emotion as you watch them. It made him feel hotter, hornier even. That if he could pushed Mina away and grabbed you just to kiss you as he did in your living room yesterday night, he would. Yet a force inside him locked him in place, reminding him that the kiss you shared was nothing but the result of his impulsive ass.

He tried to erase it, you know. He tried to erase your soft lips— tasting of everything sweet against the cruelty etched in his— but he couldn’t. The way you kissed him back made him mad— mad at himself for enjoying it, mad at his heart for feeling something familiar. A familiarity he buried together with Aurora.  

He tried to shake it off by grabbing the hips of the unfamiliar girl underneath him, sure it’s going to leave bruises. Her fake squealing and moaning filled the whole house, but it didn’t even reach the emptiness inside him. So unlike the brief kiss you shared that sparked the fire long smoldered in his system.

He fucked her ‘til you arrived, just to let you know that what you shared was wrong. Not because he didn’t want it— heck, if he could claim you here and there, he would— but because he couldn’t taint another human being with the evil inside him. And he couldn’t afford to go down the path of trying to be good, just to be reminded that he’s not. And never will be.

What he felt for you, he couldn’t quite understand. When he sees you, he feels excited— alive even. And he’s certain Aurora would’ve cried of happiness if she knew he’s feeling something towards another girl again, after so many fucking years. After all, it was her wish before she blew out her last breath. For him to never forget love, instead cherish it. Hold on to it. Because it was salvation, she said. Yet Jaehyun couldn’t still believe it, if it was salvation, why does it feel punishment? Because it is a punishment, you fool, he whispered to himself.

He thanked his phone ringing of saving him into his thoughts. The name Johnny Seo displayed in the screen. He slide the green button, turning it on speakers.

“Bastard,”

“Puppy,” He reared back. Johnny is an alpha, and calling him puppy always raged him. Which is why Jaehyun branded him the name, to piss him off.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” The wolf retaliated. Jaehyun nodded, taking a bite of his food.

“Anyways, you do know that my birthday is in four days, right? Or you don’t?”

Jaehyun could even see Johnny’s brow rising.

“I don’t. Birthdays are dramatic,” He prattled.

“Yes, because you don’t have one dickhead.” Johnny laughed.

If Jaehyun was an emotional wreck of an angel, he would’ve been hurt. But it’s the truth. He doesn’t celebrate birthdays because he doesn’t have one. He came into this world without going through the process of a mother’s pregnancy. But Johnny, and his whole pack of wolf has, being that they were all human once. Chaelin is the only one who shares the same struggle as him.

When Jaehyun didn’t bother to say anything, Johnny continued his sentence. “I’m celebrating it here, of course, in London.”

So the bastard is in London, Jaehyun whispered in his mind.

“You better go or else I’m pulling out my share in your company.” Johnny threatened. He would’ve laugh. Jaehyun is richer than all of Johnny and his pack of wolf’s riches combined. But he’s already planning to go to London for business, and he thought seeing how his comrades are faring with life every now and then isn’t a bad idea.

“I’m coming,”

“Come in my stomach then,” Johnny laughed.

It took Jaehyun a second to realize the joke. “Damn you, Seo.”

Johnny continued to laugh. Jaehyun attempted to pressed the red button when Johnny said something that perked his ear.

“Bring Y/N. Everyone will go. Including Taeyong’s clan and Doyoung’s group of warlocks.” — He said your name like you’re a friend— “Say I’m inviting her. I’ll handle her ticket, I know it’d hurt your ego to handle a pretty lady’s fare.”

“Shut the fuck up Seo, she’s not coming with me.” Jaehyun stated in a clipped tone. The thought of you meeting Johnny’s pack and Taeyong’s clan made his temper boil. At least you’re safe with Doyoung and the other warlocks if ever.

“Shall I call her myself then? She does not need to fly with you. She could arrive first, your choice.”

Jaehyun knows Johnny has his ways to contact you despite not knowing your number. And he couldn’t think straight of the possibility of you flying alone to London. Without him by your side.

“No, she’s my secretary. It’s just right that she flies with me.”

“You’re one hell of a complicated douchebag, Jung J—”

Jaehyun pressed the red button, not letting Johnny finish his sentence. Then he continued to eat, the thought of you going to London with him making him zestful than usual.

Then he remembered the forgotten canvas lying on his sofa. He stood up immediately and dashed to the living room only to slow down when he’s near. Heart thudding against his chest, a reminder that Aurora still have a part of him wrapped around her fingers.

He sat and stare at the parcel for a whole five-minutes. Readying himself to see the canvas inside that he knows too well— like the back of his hand. He grabbed it and slowly tear the thick carton wrapped in it.

Every inch of color sending bolts in his body. The familiar feeling of the canvas in his palms taking the breath out of him. He continued to tear the carton until nothing is left wrapped up around the art.

There it is. Aurora’s painting. In his hands. After so many years, he finally found the courage to stare at it. And the feeling is overwhelming. It’s overwhelming to see his own self, painted in the canvas made by the girl he loved more than life itself.

Of course Aurora knew.

Of course she knew that he was The Fallen.

And she never once judged him. Unlike all the people in the world, Aurora never turned her back on him despite knowing the truth.

That’s why his world crumbled for the second time when she died,— the only person who understood that Lucifer, himself, also needed love— slipping away from his fingers.

The art was wonderfully preserved, with only little to no dents. The pigments weren’t as bright as he remembers, but it’s the art of Aurora nonetheless.

His wings, the glowing of it intelligently captured by her. It made his lips slightly bend into a smile. But it quickly receded when he noticed something on the face. A detail he doesn’t remember noticing when he first saw the canvas one hundred years ago. A… tear?

It was so small, but it’s surely not a dent. For when he looked at it, the pigment stared right back at him.

—

You feel like shit when you came back home. It felt like you trekked a whole mountain from the unrest that you feel inside. Your bones feel heavy, your eyes too. And you blame Jaehyun and that girl for it. Her face, and her lips pressed into Jaehyun’s skin made you unexpectedly irritated. The mere thought of her sleeping on his bed made everything worse than it is.

Sure, she’s maybe a supermodel, or an actress, or an influential person and you’re just a secretary barely hanging on to life— but you could feel that the bond you have with Jaehyun is more meaningful than what they possibly have. Hearing yourself prattle about your vexation towards the girl and your boss, you tugged on your hair. You’re saying nonsense, Y/N. Of course, you and Jaehyun do not have any ‘bond’ to begin with and—

“Are you okay?” Yuqi looked up from her notes to you.

At her words, you realized that you’re already standing in the living room.

“Of-of course,” You blinked.

Yuqi shook her head, “Yes, Jaehyun and you do not have any bond. What else?” She teased.

Oh, so you said the words aloud. Your cheeks heated by Yuqi’s teasing. She’s just caught you thinking about your boss, and heard you blathering nonsense in the air.

Frustrated by everything, you decided to just paint something. The canvas from your dream begging to be recreated. You changed your clothes and readied your materials. Luckily, there’s a remaining canvas resting at the corner of your room, slightly smaller than the one in your dream but that could do.

You tied your hair in a messy bun before securing your canvas on to the easel, placing it facing the only window you have in your room. Light filters through, but not hot enough to make you wince. The weather is perfect with the sun hiding in the thick clouds.

Making yourself comfortable on the stool, you grabbed the canvas again. Hugging it onto the crook of your arm and tracing lines here and there to make the shape of the falling angel. The passion burning in your fingers prevented you from taking a rest, albeit your neck is starting to freeze and cramp.

Craning your neck left to right, you stare at the sketch. You couldn’t proclaim that it’s the same as your dream for the lack of colors it has, so you started to mixed oil pigments, with the hues of the painting from your dreams being your guide. You mixed blues for the skies, whites for the angel’s silk robe wrapped in his waist, blacks, reds, and oranges for the smoldering wings. But the one color you’ve had a hard time figuring out is the iridescence coating his wings. You needed your phone to search how to mix colors that’d look gleaming against the canvas. In the midst of your search, you’ve found out knowledge beyond what you expected.

Lucifer was God’s favorite angel. You could see it in his wings— for it glows unlike any other angels.

So, the painting must be an interpretation of Lucifer? You wondered.

Shiver like no other covered your body, the divine knowledge sipping in your mind. Because of that, you became more eager to finish the canvas. After mixing a lot of pigments and trying it to different papers, you’ve finally succeeded in making a glowing color. You laid the small jar on your study table, careful not to spill a drop, and continued to paint all around the sketch.

Yuqi called for you to dinner, the only time you allowed yourself to rest. You straightened your back and massaged your palms, numb from all the drawings and paintings you did. Before departing your room, you stare at the canvas. It’s not even halfway through, so you couldn’t make out the result in your head yet. You supposed you can continue painting it once you have the time, since it’s obvious that you wouldn’t be able to finish it today despite wanting to.

“What’s that you’re working on? Commission?” Yuqi asked as she swallowed a spoonful of ramen soup.

“Nope. Just… had an idea.”

Still, you remained quiet about your dreams. Not that anyone could understand them. You couldn’t decipher them yourself. And you know it’s best to keep them a secret for now.

Your phone lit up in the corner of the table, a text had just arrived. While munching on your food, you slid it open.

[We’re heading to London in three days. Send me your infos. Got it covered. Don’t ask too much questions.]

You forcefully swallowed your food, not wanting your mouth to spit it. Throat tightening, you drank a glass of water.

“What is it?” Yuqi asked, patting your back and peeking on the screen. “London?!” She exclaimed upon reading the message. You could only nod.

Jaehyun told you to book him a flight to London. It never occurred to you that he needed you to accompany him. The thought of flying to London with him gave you the good kind of goosebumps. But you didn’t allow your emotions to get the best of you. You typed in a reply.

[Okay, Sir. E-mailing it to you now.] But you really wanted to type in all-caps and make sure that you’re really coming with him.

You’re not certain you could get enough sleep tonight.

—

Days went on in a blur, and now you find yourself seated across Jaehyun in a first class plane. You decided not to move much, for you don’t have any idea how should you act around. Jaehyun does not spare you any glance at all. He’s reading a book for an hour now, completely ignoring your presence.

But before you got on the plane, he told you the real reason of bringing you with him after days of not telling you. Johnny’s birthday is tomorrow, and he invited you. The mere thought of him remembering you as you are and not as Jaehyun’s secretary warmed your heart. Unfortunately, you couldn’t buy an expensive watch or necktie for him so you sticked to what you do best— drawing. You drew him for days, leaving the other canvas you’re working on in the corner of your room. You could only hope that Johnny would like the gift.

Many things agitated you the whole hours that you’re sitting or leaning on your seat. Like, what would you wear? It’s not like you could wear your uniform in there. And you have no money to buy a dress. The money you have in your wallet is only enough to buy you, Yuqi, and Soojin souvenirs. As for Yuta, after days of trying to contact you and bombarding your phone with text messages, he finally gave up. You still haven’t had the guts to talk to him about his and Jaehyun’s brawl. Jaehyun never opened the conversation to you, too.

There’s many things that he does not try to address to you; the kiss, the little scene he made on his own house, and his comment about your soy garlic chicken. Yes, you bloody want him to say at least something about the food you prepared. But days had passed, no words came out of his mouth. He’s back to being the most cold-hearted man yet again.

You shifted on your seat, trying to rest your eyes. Jaehyun said there’s still three hours remaining before you land— the only thing he’s said to you. Clearing your mind off your thoughts, you close your eyes. This time, there’s no dream that accompanied the void in you.

You felt a nudge in your arm, Jaehyun’s voice looming around you, waking you up. The sting in your eyes hit the moment you opened them, squinting against the light around you. You noticed a small blanket wrapped around you, not remembering the moment you wrapped yourself in it.

“That… is the attendant’s doing.” Jaehyun pointed out, staring at you. And honestly? He didn’t need to do that. You know his personality too well to even assume that he’s the one who did it.

“We’re landing in five minutes,”

—

You arrived in Ridgemount Hotel after a hectic ride on a limo rented by Jaehyun, himself. Hectic because none of you uttered a word, your mouth has gone dry and jetlag kicked it the moment you stepped inside. You couldn’t even bring yourself to read something for the pulsating ache in your head.

Jaehyun’s hotel room is located across from you. Of course, he would prefer to spend a lot of money that to be wise and stay with you to the same room. Not that it matters to you, anyway. You’re definitely alright being your own specie in your room.

You have no idea how long did you sleep the jetlag away. There were no messages from Jaehyun when you opened your phone. You guessed he’s also getting some rest for the party tomorrow now that will be celebrated at Guildhall. The moment Jaehyun told you the venue, your eyes almost fell from its sockets. You only see Guildhall when you browse the web for medieval halls in London, and now you’ll get there tomorrow evening. The excitement is unbearable. You could literally jump from happiness. But a loud knock on the door stopped you from flinging yourself on the soft mattress.

“Hi!”

“Ms. Chaelin?”

The woman is smiling at you, wearing a white cardigan with a large belt wrapped around her waist. What is she doing here?

“Come in!” You said, letting her precede you to the door.

“Oh, your room is so cozy.”

She scanned the room with interest before sitting on the bed and looking at you.

“You’re probably wondering why I am here bothering your beauty rest,” She laughed. “But I’m just wondering if we could, you know, have some fun before Johnny’s birthday.”

“I— I’m afraid I don’t have…” Your voice faded, the sudden embarrassment coating you. But Chaelin only smiled at you, her face gave up the notion of telling you not to worry about a penny.

“Don’t worry about it! Everything is on me.”

“I can’t possibly accept that, Miss.”

“Just call me Chaelin. Please let me treat you. I wanna make up to the last time we’ve met. I know it wasn’t pleasant.” She wheedled.

She’s talking about your first week at Jung’s Fiscals. You waved your hands to tell her not to worry about it.

“It’s okay… you don’t need to. If there’s a person who should be doing that, it’s Jaehyun.” You told her.

“Yes! That’s right. Jaehyun told me— oh, nevermind. Do you have anything to wear?”

Jaehyun told her what? You shrugged off the curiosity. By her question, you slowly shake your head. That’s a problem you’ve been pondering on for hours now.

“Then all the reason for me to treat you!” Chaelin wrapped her arms around yours, not giving you any chance to argue.

You changed into comfortable clothes, fit for hours of shopping you assumed would take place. Chaelin waited for you, scrolling through her phone the whole time. According to her, all of Johnny’s friends will attend the anticipated party of the year. Not to jump into prejudice, you assumed Johnny is the kind of guy who throws absolutely crazy parties by the way Chaelin anticipates the event.

Knowing about the attendance of Johnny’s friends is the sole reason why you’re trudging the shiny floors and garish interior of a famous boutique near the hotel you’re staying in. You sent a simple message to Jaehyun, informing him that you went outside with Chaelin. As usual, he did not bother to reply.

You and Chaelin had fun. She literally made you her own personal doll, pulling you in and out of boutiques to dig every clothes there is that would fit you. You let her do her fairy-godmother work, being that you are lacking knowledge when it comes to the matter of class and magnificence. And you trust her taste enough to let her on her mission of finding the best dress for you.

Every now and then, she tells you about her friendship with Jaehyun. Not that you ask, but it made you curious nonetheless. According to her, they’ve been friends for a really long time now. It made you think that maybe they’d met in their elementary school. But Chaelin did not give you any specific date of their first meeting.

The day went on, and now you find yourself staring at the dress and stiletto Chaelin bought you. A promise to pay her was answered with a scrunch of her nose, telling you not to worry about the money and that she gave you the things wholeheartedly, not expecting any payment. It didn’t make you feel comfortable, but at least you relaxed by the assurance of wearing something decent tomorrow.

The door suddenly clicked open, and you jumped by seeing Jaehyun. He stares at you for a minute, obviously wanted to say something, but he rubbed his nape and closed the door again.

What was that?

You shrugged but after a second, the door opened again, revealing your boss with his back straightened, ready to give orders.

“Eat with me,”

Jaehyun did not wait for you to answer, giving you no chance to change your clothes. You supposed your current attire was enough, so you trudge outside and followed him to the hotel’s hall.

He sat, food in his plate. You followed after mere minutes of filling yours with delicacies you don’t know the name and haven’t tasted yet in your whole life. Jaehyun said nothing, just silently bite and munch his food. This is your first time eating with him, and you noticed that he’s feminine when he eats. There’s nothing wrong about it though, you just found the way he dabs the napkin on his mouth and the way he munches food so quietly, fascinating.

A glut of silence enwrapped the air around you. It could literally suffocate you, so with all your might, you tried to talk to him.

“Why did you let me come with you?” You have no idea why did you ask such questions, but Jaehyun only looked at you as if he’s had any choice.

“Johnny requested,” His curt answer.

“Johnny’s birthday must be so special. You even took your time to celebrate it with him.” When he does not answer, you continued your talking, “How about you? When’s your birthday?”

By your question, Jaehyun dropped his fork on his plate, creating a loud clatter to make the other hotel guests turn on the both of you. But he quickly regained his composure, giving a curt nod to everyone as a way of excuse.

“I don’t— it’s next month. 14th.” His laconic response.

“Okay…” You said, wary of his sudden lack of control.

“Excuse me,” He said, pushing his chair with the back of his knees. You nodded at him. But even after finishing your meal, Jaehyun did not go back to finish his.

You went back on your room calculating if you’d said something to irk Jaehyun. He wasn’t exactly annoyed, just taken aback? Nevertheless, you’ve gathered one information about him, and that’s his birthday. You no longer want to vex yourself by his constant berating, you thought knowing something about him would help pave the way of your bond.

While thinking about what could you give Jaehyun on his birthday, you wrapped the canvas you’d give Johnny tomorrow. After ten-minutes of cutting and ribbon-tying, you changed into new clothes and slept, a smile creeping up your face as you think about the event tomorrow.

—

Spectacular is an understatement to describe the Guildhall. Its chandelier hang high in the ceilings, with curtains draping down around them and with lights illuminating their color against the columns standing as posts of the whole hall.

Tables are decorated with a sophisticated yet manly touch. You assumed Johnny requested for a medieval touch to adorn the venue, which the organizers did an absolutely amazing job on. You feel like you were back the past. The period movies you’ve seen and books you’ve read all coming back to you— every scene and every word you thought won’t come to life is here, in front of you. The overwhelming happiness sits on your stomach, waiting to be unleashed.

“Y/N!” Chaelin waved, then she walked towards you with a wine glass in one hand. Jaehyun excused himself the moment Chaelin arrived beside you. He walked towards a pool of boys gathering around Johnny. Someone clapped his back, a man his age. But the younger ones nodded at him, reverence clear in their faces.

“You look stunning, Chaelin.” You greeted. The woman is wearing a velvet dress, hugging her curves, with a fur scarf wrapped around her arms.

“No, you look magnificent, love!” She cheered, pulling your hand and swirling you playfully, both your laughs joining together.

You’re wearing a tulle long dress, a mixture of champagne and blue fabrics adorning it. The stiletto you wear goes with the same hue as the dress. To be honest, you felt slightly out of place when you arrived, for the people around you wears monotone colors only. And you obviously stand out. But now Chaelin is here, you felt the pressure being lifted off of you.

The event started when Johnny went on to the platform, thanking each and everyone of the guess for joining him on his day. The bellows and laughters of his friends stood out among the crowd, their cheers slightly distracting Johnny. Your eyes automatically searched for Jaehyun, despite not screaming with the other boys, he has an unusual and once in a lifetime smile on his lips which made him more handsome that he already is.

He wears a simple black tuxedo, with his hair neatly parted and brushed up, a cowlick straying on his forehead. The color of his suit accentuated his pale features, making him ethereal in your eyes once again. He shifted, and met your eyes in the crowd.

His beauty locked you in your place with a heart thudding as you continued staring at him. He lifted his glass with a curt nod, a silent sign for you to enjoy the night. The small gesture made your heart swell in happiness even more, so you smiled at him. And he smiled back.

The evening moved on. You remained in your location, Chaelin giving you company. Johnny’s still walking around the venue, greeting acquaintances. And Jaehyun, he’s still talking with his friends.

“Aren’t you friends with them?” You suddenly asked Chaelin. She whirled at you before taking a sip of her drinks. Then she looked at the men surrounding Jaehyun in a sideway glance.

“Oh yes. Been friends with them for a really long time now. I’ve seen some of them grow up into the man they are today.” There was passion and love in her voice that you didn’t expect to hear. “That boy is Jeno,” She pointed at a boy with the warmest eyesmile, “We’re probably the closest, aside from Jaehyun. I adore that pup, quiet but knows when to enjoy.” She has that certain smile with her now, her eyes twinkling. Then she pulled you towards the boys suddenly.

“Let’s meet them!” She cheered. Although you were nervous in every step that you took, you let her sway you towards the men. Jaehyun met your eyes the moment you stood in front of them.

“Who’s this pretty lady?” A tall guy emerged from nowhere, bright smile directed at you. He was nudged by a smaller man.

“Jaehyun’s date,”— then he whirled towards you, offering his hands for a handshake— “I’m Ten.” You took his hand, expecting for a handshake, but instead he kissed it. Loud cheers emerged from the group, making you blush.

All of them shook your hands then, and you noticed they were glancing at Jaehyun as they did so, like they’re waiting for his permission.

“You must be Y/N?” The guy with a red hair emerged from nowhere. You slightly jump from his appearance; red hair, pale features, and his eyes, there’s a little red in his irises. Jesus Christ, he was beautiful.

“I’m Taeyong,” He offered his hand, then you shook it, still mesmerized by his exquisiteness. Taeyong, then, started to entertain you with his stories, never leaving your side until people started to slow dance in the middle of the hall. He excused himself then walked towards a pretty woman. You watched as almost everyone danced. Chaelin was with a boy you remembered named Doyoung. Seeing everyone enjoying themselves, it felt lonely suddenly. Out of place, even.

Then for the third time that night, Jaehyun met your eyes across the room. He’s got a wine glass in his hand while looking at you. Then seconds later, he drank all the contents, leaving the glass to the care of the waitress. Jaehyun walked towards you, every step making your heart beat louder, faster. He walked the earth like he’s a king. His mere steps could make the world stop on its spinning.

Then he’s standing before you, offering you his hand.

“Are you gonna dance with me or…?” He asked, the baritone of his voice sending you shivers. You locked eyes with him then took his hand. His eyes, never leaving yours too.

The slow music lulls the whole place with its softness. Jaehyun held your hip in one hand, and your hand in the other. Your heart maybe thundering, but deep in it, you know you’re in the safe place. You’ve never felt like this your whole life— like you’re becoming something other than the girl you are. There’s an ember inside you as you looked at Jaehyun’s eyes. A small fire waiting to be ignited. His familiar scent whiffed your nose as he spins you away and towards him. The familiarity of his face is staggering, yet you blame your dreams for it.

Your faces were too close, so close in the edge of the music. One push, and you’ll kiss in front of the people. One push it all it takes— then the music stopped. You held on to each other for a bit longer before Jaehyun guided you towards your table.

“I’ll get us drinks,” He whispered.

Your head was still swimming with the feel of dancing of Jaehyun when Johnny approached you, eyes bright. He automatically has his hand lifted for a high-five.

“Hey!” He called out.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Seo!”

“Please, just Johnny Y/N.”

You practiced the name with your mind before saying it out loud, “Happy birthday, Johnny!”

“There! Better!” He laughed but stopped when he saw the wrapped gift above your table, “Is that for me?”

“Uh, yes. I’m sorry this is all I could afford.”

“No, no, Y/N! Whatever is this, I’ll cherish it.” He smiled at you, “What is it by the way? You know, I really get too giddy whenever I receive gifts.”

“Oh, a portrait of you.”

His mouth formed a big ‘O’, asking for permission to open the gift, you told him yes since it’s his now. Johnny’s eyes bore an amazement that made you flustered. He stared and stared at the portrait.

“Wow, I am really touched, Y/N. Thank you for this.” Said he. You waved your hand to tell him it’s alright.

But then his eyebrows creased, his face shows an expression that of remembering something. Then he put his finger on his lips, contemplating the portrait.

“I know someone who had a similar art style as you,”

“Really? Who is he?”

You waited for Johnny to answer, an unfamiliar agitation rests in your bones by every second that passes of not knowing who the person might be. Then he snapped his fingers, creating a sound.

“Yes! I remember now! You have the same style as Aurora!”

If Johnny could clap, he absolutely would. You sat there, speechless. His other compliments were drowned by your screaming thoughts.

Aurora.

He said your art style is similar to Aurora’s.

Whoever she might really be, the mention of her name— specially in real life— never failed to send shivers down your spine.

You gulped and asked Johnny, “Who is Aurora?”

“None of your business,” The man behind you answered. Jaehyun.

You wanted to tell him she’s not ‘none of your business’. She was a product of your imagination, she was. And now the people around you knows her name. Johnny knows her. Jaehyun calls out for her name in your dreams. Your intuition tells you something is going on. But your throat has gone dry. No matter how much you wanted to tell Jaehyun that you dreamed about Aurora often, no words came out of your mouth. Your body feels heavy. And you know, you’re scared. Scared of the answers once you ask.

Aside from night black hair and blue eyes, who really are you, Aurora?

—

[bikkinibottom]

Can’t Walk Without You

Here’s a little something I wrote to celebrate 100 followers! I got the idea based off of this post here.

This is my first time writing fanfic so I’d love for some feedback! Hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: It’s the 90’s and Percy makes mixtapes for Annabeth. She listens to them when she misses him.

She took it with her everywhere now, constantly listening to whichever song that played through the Walkman. It got to the point where even if she was having a conversation or in a meeting, the headphones rested around her neck playing music just loud enough for her to still hear and whoever happened to be right next to her. Some may call it rude, but people knew to never question Annabeth, especially with everything going on now.

Annabeth remembers the first mixtape Percy had made for her when they were fourteen. It was not too long after the battle on Mount Othrys where Percy and the group had rescued her and the goddess Artemis from Luke’s imprisonment. She smiles fondly too herself as she remembers the encounter with Percy:

Christmas was just around the corner and Annabeth begrudgingly decided to spend the holiday with her family in San Francisco. Percy and she had agreed to meet up to exchange gifts at Half-Blood Hill before she left. She stood near the Big House, which was adorned in colorful holiday lights, waiting for him. Behind her led to where the cabins were, the hearth at the center of the U-shaped formation seemed to glow brighter than ever, warm and inviting just like a fireplace at Christmas-time should be. The sky was clear save for a few clouds, the constellations piercing and bright. Fresh snow lay all over camp, some of the year-rounders just beginning to take advantage of the fresh snowfall. She looked up to see Percy approaching her, his ears looked pink without a hat on from what she could tell in the dim light.

‘Seaweed Brain’ she thought, thinking of the winter hat she knit him for his gift. It was a simple beanie that was baby blue, with one black stripe cutting across.

“Took you long enough. I got a flight to catch tomorrow, Seaweed Brain,” she jokingly said to him.

Clearly something else was occupying his mind because the scowl he attempted to make wasn’t sincere and looked more like fond exasperation. Annabeth tried not to look too into it.

He stopped walking and begun to turn around dramatically.

“Well if you’re gonna have that attitude about it I’ll just be on my-” but Annabeth cut him off with a laugh and shoved his arm.

“Come on, Percy. I’ve been waiting for this,” she told him with a bit of mock irritation in her voice.

“You have?” the boy before her asked timidly. And for the first time that night, Annabeth noticed Percy actually looked anxious for whichever reason she could not figure out yet. His eyes looked more of a golden from the reflection of the Christmas lights shining off the Big House.

Annabeth looked away from his eyes as she casually said, “Duh, we’re exchanging gifts. It’s like the best part of the holiday season,” though she wasn’t too sure of her response seeing the gloomy expression take over his face.

Percy looked away as he let out a simple, “Right.”

Not wishing to dampen the mood on what was supposed to be a pleasant occasion, Annabeth quickly asks, “Do you want to go first?”

“Uh, I- no. You go first,” he responded quickly as well.

Annabeth presented him with his gift bag filled with sea-green tissue paper and he dug around in it until he pulled out the gift card she had gotten him. He flipped it over to see what it was for and he smiled appreciatively.

“That’s the skate store you go to a lot right? The one by your apartment?” she asked just to double-check and make sure.

“Yeah! I- Thanks Annabeth,” he told her genuinely then paused. “Uh, how much is on it?”

“A hundred dollars,” she replied.

His eyes seemed to pop out of his head before he stuttered for the next few seconds. Annabeth just looked at him with a confused but amused smile on her face.

“This- this is more than enough for a whole new skateboard. I- I don’t think I can accept this,” he blurted out in shock.

“Skateboards are expensive. I thought that was a good amount,” she said matter-of-factly. Annabeth had briefly forgotten that Percy and his mom didn’t have a whole lot, meanwhile, her family was more than well off and Annabeth could afford to splurge on her friends.

“There’s another gift in the bag,” she pointed out.

He gave her an incredulous look before digging around in the bag. He pulled out the beanie wrapped in a layer of tissue paper and unwrapped it. He held out the hat in front of him with a neutral expression.

“You hardly ever wear a hat, let alone own a proper winter one so I figured you could use a nice one. I made it myself,” she said, her voice laced with pride. It had taken her a couple of tries to knit a hat before she managed to perfect it. Athena wasn’t the goddess of crafts for nothing. Annabeth was proud of her handiwork.

“You made this?” he asked softly. The tender look in his eyes made Annabeth’s face a little warm but she nodded genuinely.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Annabeth said. “It’s your turn.”

“O- oh. Right.” Percy cleared his throat and placed the gift bag on the snowy ground with his presents inside. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card with a smaller rectangular box attached to it. Annabeth didn’t know what the box could be seeing as it was wrapped but she opened the card and read it to herself first.

The card itself didn’t have many words and with the low-lighting, she couldn’t exactly make it out with her dyslexia. But underneath the message of the card, she noticed Percy’s chicken scratch hand-writing where he wrote out in Ancient Greek, ‘Hope you have a good new year. Merry Christmas, Wise Girl. Your friend, Percy’.

She smiled up at him and gave him a sweet thank you.

“Um, the uh, the gift. I made it myself. I don’t know if you’ll like it but um, if you give it back I understand. It’s kind of lame, actually-” Percy stammered out, and she could tell the red on his face wasn’t coming from the Christmas lights. With a roll of her eyes, she tore open the wrapping and was presented with a cassette player. Written on one side in Percy’s hand-writing it said: ‘Songs I Think You’ll Like (vol. 1)’.

“It’s a mixtape,” Percy blurted out, “I was thinking about how we’ve barely ever talked about music so I put a bunch of songs I figured you’d like. You can listen to it whenever you want.”

Annabeth was at a loss for words. Picturing Percy in his room toiling with the radio on, waiting for hours for the right song to come on to record, or maybe using some of Sally’s old records to record music from... It was a little too much for Annabeth.

Impulsively she jumped towards Percy, wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick hug. Backing away she looked him in the eyes.

“Thank you, I love it,” she told him. At that point, she didn’t need a mirror to know that both their faces were red now.

“Really?” he asked, relief in his voice and body language.

“Yes, I can’t wait to listen to it,” she answered genuinely.

A goofy smile broke out onto his face and Annabeth felt herself smiling as well. After talking for a bit more, they eventually said their goodbyes and parted ways.

As Annabeth boarded the plane the next morning, she had a brand new Walkman stuffed in her pocket that she had bought as soon as she left the campgrounds last night. She couldn’t wait to listen to it on the plane.

Recalling the memory brought a melancholy smile to her face, but it was very dim. Annabeth remembers how nearly every month after that she received a mixtape from Percy in the mail, each with a different purpose but all equally good. When they had started dating, the music became a lot more romantic and he would gift her one at each monthly anniversary. She would’ve received a new mixtape soon for their five-month anniversary, but now he was missing and Annabeth wasn’t sure if she’d ever get to hear it. The thought made her chest ache painfully, and she blinked back tears.

Rolling onto her back in her bunk, Annabeth thought back to the events of the day and let out a frustrated sigh. Just when she finally had some type of lead to where her boyfriend might be, she was met with three demigods at the Grand Canyon with more questions than answers. Not to mention her least favorite goddess seemed to be involved in all of this somehow. Realizing she needed to get actual sleep tonight if she was going to leave early in the morning to search for Percy, the daughter of Athena put on her invisibility cap, grabbed her Walkman, and snuck out of Cabin 6 to head over to Cabin 3.

Inhaling the ocean scent that Poseidon’s cabin had, Annabeth made her way over to Percy’s dresser, where he always kept extra clothes. Grabbing one of his hoodies, she put it on and laid down in Percy’s bunk. It wasn’t the biggest secret amongst her siblings that she would often sneak out to his cabin at night but since he went missing she made it her new unassigned sleeping quarters.

If the bed weren’t cold, Annabeth could almost imagine Percy there with her. Surrounding herself in his ocean breeze scent helped put her to sleep but there was some dull ache lingering inside her tonight. It was as if there was nothing inside her; her heart, her lungs, everything just- gone. Instead, a dark void seemed to eat at her from the inside out, and all of her senses felt numb.

Putting on her headphones and pressing play on the Walkman, her favorite cassette plays out. Once they’d started dating, Percy gave her this one and told her the songs sounded a bit like the one they had danced to on Olympus all those years ago. She recalls Percy telling her that to him the song sounded a bit sad, but a little hopeful too.

Annabeth cries herself to sleep that night.

[uwua3]

that taichi headcannon for jealousy broke my heart :( could you do one where he finds another person? one that makes him laugh, ruffles his hair, games with him etc~ a happier one!

oh no!!! i’m so sorry here u go *offers u a new, super cool heart that is angst–proof* ♡ yes, i definitely want taichi to find ~ love ~ like he deserves because he’s such a puppy 🥺 i adore him endlessly so him having a happy alternative is Required Immediately!

summary: love came in many forms—including platonic best friends

warnings: heartbreak, unrequited love

author’s note: i actually went a bit more different route with this! i know this prompt typically means a romantic love, but i didn’t really feel like it would fit. this is a best friend! reader x taichi, and i am so happy with the message in this! go best friends!!!

love is love and you shouldn’t have to rush into a relationship to find it. your friends love you, and although it’s not the same, it’s more than enough ♡ love isn’t just what you do for others, so don’t try so hard to be loved. people will love you for you, not whatever romantic movie–based idea you have of them. i hope you know you are loved. i love you ♡

word count: 2,106

music: ily (i love you baby) – surf mesa ft. emilee

a skater gets back up.

🍁🛹 nanao taichi

taichi missed being in love

he missed writing all those heart–shaped love letters made of pink construction paper and his exaggerated, overwhelming feelings with red pen. he’d write their name in pretty cursive that took so many tries, he dotted the i’s with hearts, he color–coded it so well that it was just an explosion of valentine’s day

he missed dedicating his favorite songs to them, hearing it randomly in his shuffled mix and immediately thinking of them. he missed explaining what the songs meant, feeling all types of love when he repeated them over and over again

he missed creating playlists with them in his mind, forming it so it flowed perfectly and it was like he handcrafted the album himself. he missed sending the link and listening to it on repeat like a lovesick fool

he missed sending good morning/night texts, putting all his time aside just to fall head over heels again like he was on his skateboard. taichi knew he was a good boyfriend, that he loved with all of his heart and his feelings were real. but, he missed all of it, he missed love so much. taichi needed love

(it was so fucked up, but taichi sometimes listened to all the music he dedicated to them at night and stared up at his dark bedroom ceiling, crying just wishing he didn’t break it off. that he kept the toxic relationship going for just a bit more, just for the attention. he missed them)

so, taichi knew what he had to do. he actively started looking for love, not caring if he was going to get hurt again or if his heart was weak and broken from his last situation

(taichi’s reliance on love was so unhealthy, that even his friends got tired of his whining and eventually stopped communicating back when he went on a rant again)

(taichi didn’t mind, his dependency and need to be someone’s and be their one & only was too strong for him to even consider any other rational solution)

but you, you came out of no where

taichi was busy scrolling through his instagram following list, trying to find out if anyone cute was single. he could slide into their DMs with a fun message, be as enthusiastic as possible to avoid being left on seen. he was considering if he should start a digital conversation as he rode home from school

(he wasn’t the best multitasker. taichi was skating to the dorms, texting on his phone without looking up. he was casually skating before bam! he hit a curb, tumbling to the pavement as his phone flew a few feet away)

taichi groaned, knowing he was going to get scolded and laughed at by autumn troupe the moment he showed up to the dorms like he lost in a fight. as he moved to lay on his back, taichi rubbed his eyes as the sunlight was suddenly blocked from his vision

taichi opened his eyes and looked up, you were looking over him with wide, concerned eyes as you were saying something about first aid and asking if he was okay. taichi just blinked, not hearing you over the ringing in his ears as he stared at your face

you were cute! this could work, taichi just had to say some clever pick–up line you’d like. you would maybe find it so witty that you’d give him your number, you two would walk, form a momentary bond where he’d fall in love, and then you’d leave. taichi couldn’t believe fate finally recognized he needed a partner so it made him fall for them instead (literally)

taichi was about to open his mouth before you took his hand and pulled him up, helping him stand and he stared at your face, trying to process the situation. why were you helping? were you interested? did you want to go on a date? taichi blushed, never having someone ever be this direct to him

in reality, taichi’s sense of perception and reading between the lines was so warped. taichi romanticized his entire life, the way you touched his arm and made sure a completely random stranger was okay. this had to be the universe’s calling! but really, he just fell in love with everyone he met and pretended like his soulmate was out there

(maybe, this was all just an elaborate game to prove to himself that someone could love him. maybe, taichi just wanted to be worthy of someone’s love)

last time, he purposely fell off his skateboard to get a person’s attention. but this time, you were the one who came over to help. maybe, this could be different

“hey, hey! are you okay?!”

when the ringing subsided and he could pick up on your voice, taichi kicked his board up and swung it in his open backpack, putting his free hand out as he grinned like he didn’t just embarrass himself in front of you

“nanao taichi, great to meet you!” he exclaimed, smiling like his elbows weren’t scraped or his uniform was in desperate need of an ironing. he had a dull headache and he needed an ice pack for that bruise on his hip, but he looked so happy

you carefully took his hand, shaking it as you warily wondered how could someone be this happy after crashing like that (it was honestly a wreck, he looked like he could’ve died from the way he landed)

you said your name and the rest was history as he picked up his phone, wincing at the cracked screen, as he asked for your number

from there on, it was the start of a healthy friendship. at first, taichi tried to force this image he had onto you, convinced the timeline was basically telling him he had to do everything in his power to fall in love. but you shut him down quickly, emphasizing you guys were only friends and you weren’t about to risk this great friendship for some fling taichi wanted

honestly, it was for the best. taichi respected your boundaries and backed down (especially after you were adamant on not entering a fake relationship for the attention). when taichi took off his rose–tinted glasses and realized not every relationship he had meant pursuing some fantasy of love only he could imagine, your friendship with him became even better

taichi wrote you letters when he genuinely meant them, not because he felt like he was obligated to. sometimes, when he was so appreciative of how much you were there for him, he wrote pages of what you meant to him. they weren’t heart–shaped, but it had even more meaning because you actually read them and ruffled his hair, saying he was the bestest friend ever

you loved it! even though, he didn’t try as hard as he always did. he wrote your name normally, but you still smiled when you read it. he didn’t dot his i’s with hearts, but you still joked about how messy his handwriting was, and it didn’t bother him! it wasn’t perfect nor a representation of his lovey–dovey heart, but you loved it more than anyone else he ever did it for in his past

(his heart swelled with pride, not because he did something romantic, but because it made you happy. taichi was happy you felt loved, and were loved. was that the true purpose of letters? taichi didn’t think he could’ve wrote letters that were just plain without all the love clichés in the world, but you enjoyed them just the same without the flowery language)

taichi even sent you songs he knew you would love. you always listened to them, even sent back feedback about what you liked. but, taichi didn’t think it was romantic in any way. you appreciated that he took his time to send you something he associated with you. you always sent one back, but it wasn’t random, he always had on repeat whatever you chose because it fit him so well

he even remembered the first time he created a playlist for you on your birthday, selecting the same amount of songs as your age with thoughtful consideration. but this time, he didn’t go overboard and nitpicked at every single beat and rhythm. he just picked songs that made him think of you in a random order, and you still loved it. you even sent a video of you listening to it and shooting a thumbs up to the camera

(taichi’s heart doubled in size. you knew him so well! you knew what he liked and always paid attention to his likes & dislikes just like he did with you! you put in just as much effort with him, you really tried in this friendship and it wasn’t for the gifts he’d shower his future significant other with)

taichi always said good morning/night to you, but you didn’t yell at him when he forgot sometimes. you always said it back and even texted him first on occassion

(his heart was truly overwhelmed with all the subtle love you showed him. for once in his life, taichi felt like this was love. but he didn’t have to follow every romance movie’s rules or imitate every protagonist ever to get that love, all he did was be his true, authentic self)

taichi stopped himself from forcing love onto everyone he met. on nights when he felt like texting his ex again, or rekindling old relationships that didn’t work out for a reason, you stayed up with him, reminding him how much pain he went through and he couldn’t just put himself through hell again

taichi had to accept not everyone was his soulmate–to–be, that maybe this wasn’t his time to be in love. it took so much time to know that he’d rather be in love for a very long time than in short bursts

(not because it was more romantic, but he deserved a long–term, stable relationship that wasn’t just him begging for validation)

you taught him he was more than the people who played him in the past. he couldn’t sink to their level and start messing around just for the satisfaction, he would fall in love with someone right and it would be all worth it

(you two even once got into an argument. when taichi was going on and on about wanting a partner, you cut him off angrily, frustrated he wasn’t listening to your pleas for him to stop. you were so confused why he kept doing this to himself on purpose and if he was going to turn into some player. he kept ignoring you, whining about some partner before you gave up, telling him you couldn’t handle it today)

(that’s what it took for him to snap back to reality, taichi apologized immediately and tried his best to avoid ranting so much. at the end, you were always right and wanted the best for him. taichi had to accept that)

you provided taichi with real love that wasn’t because because he did all these romantic things, it was because you liked him for him. he stopped trying to see you as a potential lover and loved you as a friend, and that was more than enough

taichi had skateboarded to your house, rapidly knocking on your door as you came outside to see him with a boquet of flowers and your favorite candy. your heart dropped, oh no, was he about to confess when you made it clear—

“i love you.” taichi said, passing you the gifts as you stood shocked. you couldn’t believe it, you told him numerous times you two would never be in a relationship like this... you were about to object, reprimand him before he burst out laughing, holding his stomach as he hopped off his board

“oh my god! your face!!!” taichi hollered, trying to contain himself as you smacked his head with your boquet. you were genuinely so freaked out but breathed a sigh of relief once you saw he looked at you the same as before. taichi wasn’t in love with you, but—

“i just came to say i love you, as my best friend. i love you, and you taught me real love. i love you.”

your best friend, taichi, smiled just like that day he fell off his skateboard and scraped up his entire body. you hoped he never changed and stayed the same romantic nutcase as before, but for the right person

as you hugged him, taichi realized he didn’t need a relationship. he needed love, and his best friend was more than enough

[soulangel]

Study Notes-Dean

Summary: When your friend asked you for your notes one morning, you didn’t expect to suddenly have a follower who almost always seemed to know where you were going to be. Maybe it was a good thing she asked for your notes though...he’s not a bad kisser.

Group: KHH Dean

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None? Does kissing count?

Taglist: @moonchild-saturn , @delphinium3000 , @channiesmixtape , @squishy-yamdumplings​

Main Masterlist     KHH Masterlist

     Why did you have to bring notes to your best friend at 7 in the morning? Why did it have to be on your only day off? And why were you dumb enough to step out into public in your pjs? ‘They’re just notes….why couldn’t she come get them herself?’ You wondered with a small scowl, the door jingling to the diner door you were told to meet her at.

    “Y/N! Over here!” She screamed for you, standing up from her seat to wave at you like a madwoman.

    You gave her a weak smile and then smiled to the front usher, silently telling them thank you for what little help they gave you before your friend started screaming. “You know you’re in a public place right?” You asked her the moment you were close enough she could hear you.

    She scoffed at your question and motioned to the clothing choice you just so happened to forget about in that moment. “Ummm….hypocrite much?” She mumbled back with a fake scowl on her face, giving her all knowing look at you the moment she stopped talking to see how you’d respond.

    You just shrugged and flopped into a seat beside her, not seeing the guy sat across from her smiling in amusement at the scene playing out in front of him. “I like the clothes. They’re pretty awesome.” He commented, immediately gaining a look of alarm from you, and a small grimace from your friend. 

    You glared at her and all but slammed the papers down on the table. “Are you KIDDING me right now?! You know how I feel about meeting new people like this!” You growled as you stood up to leave.

    She latched onto your arm and wailed, “wait please! I’m sorryyyyyy!” 

    The usher up front gave you three a glare and was about to walk up to your table when you raised a hand at them. “Hang on, I’m sorry for this scene.” You said softly, before turning to your friend with just as hard of a glare as before. “I don’t care how sorry you are, this isn’t happening again. Have fun with my notes.” You hissed and stalked off, leaving her alone with the guy all over again.

    The moment the doors dinged shut, the guy that sat across from your friend started chuckling. “She’s fiery. I like it. Now I see why you want her to meet new people.” He snickered while the blonde sighed and grumbled softly under her breath.

          xXx

    Maybe a couple days later you were stepping out of your last class of the day when someone walked up to you and gave you a friendly smile. “Hi! I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m Hyuk, but most of my friends call me Dean.” He said happily, readjusting the strap to his backpack on his shoulder as he waited for you to respond.

    You raised your eyebrows in mild surprise and tilted your head up in a half nod. “Uh, hi? I’m late for my next class.” You replied with a tight smile, the expression immediately dropping as you turned to walk off in the opposite direction that he was standing . 

    Instead of leaving you alone, he started following you. “Actually from what your friend told me, you have free period next so you’ll probably be going to take a nap.” He stated, grinning when you turned to him with narrowed eyes.

    “You’re fairly annoying, you know that?”

    “You’ll learn to enjoy my company.” 

    “Keep telling yourself that Buddy…”

    Which he did. Over and over until one day-a week later-you managed to have a decent conversation with him without wanting to run away from him. Quite frankly it was surprising and a little unnerving how easy it was to talk to the guy, and you were questioning your sanity when you finally started wondering where he would disappear to when your free period would roll around and he wasn’t there to greet you at the door. ‘I’m going crazy’ You thought to yourself as you shook your head and started toward your usual spot.

    But when you got to the tree, you were surprised to see him already there with food for the both of you, his now familiar music blasting through the speaker he always insists you listen to so he can get feedback. “Is this new?” You asked him, tilting your head when you sat down next to him.

    He grinned and nodded his head at you. “Hell yeah it is! Listen! I’ve been playing around with the tune for the last few weeks now, and just recently got inspiration for lyrics.” He replied while showing you the tablature he wrote everything down on.

    You listened to the tune of the music, nodding your head a little as you read the lyrics he had on the notepad. “It’s really good Hyuk, sounds like you really like this person.” You smiled, immediately going back to the music playing in your ears while reading the lyrics.

    You listened to the tune of the music, nodding your head a little as you read the lyrics he had on the notepad. “It’s really good Hyuk, sounds like you really like this person.” You smiled, immediately going back to the music playing in your ears while reading the lyrics.

    You missed the small smile he gave you as his hand hesitantly reached out to wrap around yours. “I don’t think you know just how much.” He mumbled softly so you wouldn’t hear him over the music.

    You squeezed his hand for a moment before you grinned at him, seeing his look of adoration toward you. It took you a moment but when it finally clicked in your mind, you blinked a couple times and went to say something. Instead of getting words out, lips pressed against yours in a searing and heated kiss. You gasped in surprise at the feeling of the grass suddenly touching your back, wondering when he’d managed to push you down; not that you were complaining or anything, his lips were so soft. 

    Without thinking about anything else, you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled a little, half wondering why it felt so nice to kiss him, and half wondering why you cared at this point since HE WAS KISSING YOU. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this.” He whispered once he finally released your mouth to look down at you.

    You smiled and bit your lip for a moment. “Tell me how long then?” You asked softly, your hands slowly tangling in his hair.

    He smiled down at you and kissed all over your face, his body slowly crawling on top of you until he was practically laying on top of you, his elbows holding his weight up off you. You couldn’t help the giggles as he kissed you everywhere. “Hyuuuukkiiiieee!” You squealed, squirming underneath him until he stopped and stared down at you.

    He managed to run a hand through your locks, gently stroking your hair while gazing down at you with such affection, you had no idea how you could’ve missed the look before. “I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you with Y/F/N. I may have convinced her to steal your notes that one day so I could finally talk to you.” He confessed with a sheepish grin at the end, earning another giggle from you as you watched him explain himself.

    You leaned up to kiss him on the nose. “Then it’s a good thing you’re so insistent on following me around.” You mentioned, seeing the blush dotting his cheeks.

    He hid his face in your neck and wrapped his arms around you, resting his weight on your stomach and pelvis. You laughed out loud at his cute behavior and stroked your hands through his hair rhythmically, calming him down just a little while he smiled against your skin and gently nipped the flesh, hoping to get a reaction out of you. You squeaked and squirmed underneath him, earning a chuckle as he nipped your neck again. “Ticklish are we?” He asked while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

    You giggled and pushed him off your body, giving next to no effort in the action. “N-Nooooo! Aaaah okay yes!!” You giggled more while twitching away from his wandering hands and lips.

    You continued moving around underneath him until you heard him grunt in response to you accidentally bucking your hips up against his. “Ack.” He grunted softly, wincing as you both immediately sat up in front of each other.

    You frowned a little and sighed. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I don’t-I’m not….used to this.” You mumbled quietly, biting your lip nervously.

    He gave a tiny smile and kissed your forehead. “Want to give us a start to get used to this?” He asked you just as quietly.

    You looked up at him in surprise. “U-Us? Y-You mean…” You stuttered out, seeing him nodding along with you as you pieced together what he meant.

    He kissed you softly the moment you gasped in realization, moving up off you and slowly bringing you with him until you were sitting in his lap. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he brought his hands up to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks gently while you two kissed like you were never going to see each other again. You only managed to break apart when you couldn’t breathe anymore, and even then Hyuk ended up dipping his head down to kiss along your neck. “Care to go on a date with me Milady?” He asked softly against your skin, smiling when you giggled at the feeling.

    You just wrapped your arms around him and pulled him against you. “Sure.”

[teresaneele]

Summary: You and Roger have been together for a while now. During a press tour for Bohemian Rhapsody, the comments about your relationship get a bit too much for Roger. Word Count: 1974 Warnings: Smut, age gap A/N: I wrote this fic for @queens-n-roses​ writing challenge. It was inspired by the song “Church” by Fall Out Boy and an interview where Roger stated how he used to look great but doesn’t anymore. Thanks for reading! Feedback and reblogs would be lovely!

After you have dried yourself you decide to only put on a gown and don’t bother about stuff like underwear. “Los Angeles,“ you murmur as if to remind yourself where the hotel you stayed in is located. The last few weeks have let you slowly lose track about basic things like places and time. The Oscar ceremony coming closer and closer, the press tour has gotten wild again. Roger and you had met on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. The young, aspiring make up artist that you were as well as the Queen fan you had been ever since your parents introduced you to them in your youth, it had felt like a dream coming true when you got the chance to contribute a little bit to the film. You hadn’t even hoped to get the chance to talk to Roger and Brian or any of the actors, let alone Roger bringing you dinner out of the blue. But that had been exactly what had happened. The two of you had been together for almost half a year now, after denying dating at all. When in last August you had stayed with him for two weeks and Brian couldn’t hold back a comment about your definition of the word “platonic“ any longer, you had to admit that yes – you were indeed dating.

You open the bathroom door to find Roger sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a blue button down shirt and white trousers. Normally the sight would have made you happy, but him scrolling on his phone with a serious look on his face does the opposite of it. “What are you reading about?“ You ask as you walk closer to him. - “How disgusting our relationship appearently still is,“ he replies, not looking away from the screen. “Roger, not this again, come on. We’ve had this before.“ It’s true, you did. Forty-five years age difference were more than enough to make people talk. It’s a miracle to you why they still wouldn’t shut up, but then again, it’s the internet. And being mean is what people do online. “Why are you even reading this?“ You ask. “Who cares what other people think of us? It’s not like it’s their business anyway.“ As if he couldn’t hear you, he asks, “Do you sometimes think they are right?“ - “I don’t,“ you say sharply. “How can you even ask this? Aren’t you happy to be with me? What’s the matter?“ Roger snorts as a reply. “It’s the best damn thing that could have ever happened to me. Finding the love of my life at almost seventy? That’s incredible.“ - “Good.“ Your voice sounds cool. “Then ‘disgusting’ is indeed not the right word to describe our relationship.“ Eyes still fixed on the phone screen, Roger bites his lips, before he opens his mouth again. “It’s still egoistical of me to be with you,“ he begins. “You are so much younger and have your whole life ahead of you. I will never be able to see you growing old. On the other hand all you will ever see from me is exactly that. Being already old and then-“ - “That is enough,“ you interrupt him. “Look at me, Roger, please,“ you tell him, and he does. “I’m sorry, but I am really sick of this conversation. I chose you and I love you and I want to be together with you and that’s all that matters.“ He smiles at you, but his eyes show sadness and happiness at the same time. You decide to try to loosen up the mood. “Besides…who else can say that they are dating their first ever celebrity crush, huh?“ You ask. To your disappointment, Roger looks back on his phone and says, “I can understand why I was your celebrity crush back then. But now, I’m nothing more than an old man, so I really don’t get it.“ “Roger, can I ask you a question?“ - “Anything, babe.“ “Do you take a look in the mirror from time to time?“ That makes him look up again. “What kind of question is that?“ “A serious one, because if you would have, you would have noticed your unfairly blue eyes, your charming smile, your-“ “I do look in the mirror from time to time and what I see is still an old man-“ he starts to talk louder to drown your sighing, “who is not deserving of you.“ “You are exhausting, but all I see when I look at you, is the most beautiful man on the whole planet,“ you begin and you have to hold yourself back from getting slightly angry at him. “You have been back then when you were my celebrity crush, you continued to be it when you became my real life crush and you still are now that you are not only the most important person to me but also the man I am with.“

 You look down when he starts to fumble with the seam of your gown and while the view somehow calms you, it’s not left unnoticed to you that his phone is still stuck between his fingers. “Maybe we can agree on the part where I also see the luckiest man who has ever lived, whenever I look in the mirror,“ Roger suggests. “Because deserving or not – I’ve got you.“ “You really do,“ you say, bend down, put your hands on his cheek and give him a soft kiss on the lips. Standing up straight again, you stroke his face and repeat, “You’ve got me. And I belong to you. All this-“ you move your hands to your gown to open it and let it fall down on the floor, “belongs to you.“ It makes Roger finally toss his phone aside. “Screw them,“ he mumbles. “I would never let them take this away from me.“ - “That’s more like it,“ you say and grin when you see the bulge that has already began to form in his trousers. You kneel down between his legs and don’t object when he starts kissing you as soon as your face is reachable for him. Your lips barely part, but when they do to catch some breath, you use the time to tell him how beautiful he is, all while unbuttoning his shirt. When you have finally opened it, you break the kiss completely.  “All of this is so, so beautiful,“ you whisper and let your hands wander over his chest. You continue your movement, while Roger uses his own hands to fumble around with your hair.  “And so is this,“ you say as soon as your hands reach the end of their travelling and you put them right on the obvious arousal that has grown even more.  “It’s getting a bit tight, isn’t it?“ You observe, your voice sounding as innocent as it’s possible for you. Not waiting for an actual response, you continue, “If only something could be done about that.“  As always when the joke is actually on him, Roger’s patience doesn’t last long. He gets his right hand out of your hair to push away yours and unzips his trousers.  “Now do something about it,“ he commands, his voice even raspier than usual.  - “Wow, somebody is in a hurry,“ you note, but you obey his order. You pull down his pants and underwear at the same time and Roger slips out of them, leaving your little remark uncommented. Without losing any more time, you take him into your mouth and start to suck as hard as you can. Going fully in immediately has exactly the effect you hoped it would have – you can’t help but smile when Roger moans in surprise and slaps the mattress with his free hand. You lift your own, left one up to put it on top of his, while your right one finds the way between your legs.  “You really think I’m beautiful, don’t you?“ Roger asks softly.  An “u-huh“ is the only answer you give to him, before you fall quiet again.

It stays a while like this – you simultaneously rubbing over his hand with your thumb as well as over yourself with your fingers, all while listening to his breath changing together with the pace of your mouth. Until you suddenly take it away and stand up, still holding his hand in yours. His breath had stopped for a moment when you did let go and now he eyes you with a confused but also curious look on his face. You slowly move your hand with his in it closer to your body and finally guide his fingers inside of you. “This is how beautiful I think you are,“ you say. “Is this proof enough for you?“ Roger’s eyes move from your body up to your face. “I am not sure,“ he replies, pulling back away from your inside. Putting both of his hands now onto your hips, he turns you around and places you on top of him. “Let’s find out,“ he says. The grip around your hip tightens when he presses his fingers into your skin. A silent order; but you understand and follow it as you let yourself sink down onto him. It’s surely not the first time for the two of you, but the sensation of him entering you always makes you whimper. You hear a soft chuckle coming out of his mouth as he brushes aside your hair over your shoulder and presses kisses on your neck. However – the chuckle is quickly replaced by little moans when you start moving your hips. You join him in this when his hands find the way up to your breasts. Despite the conversation you have had before, Roger is still a confident man, and feeling how you’re growing weaker and weaker under his touches, seem to make the last of his insecurities disapper. “So, who was your first crush?“ He asks. - “You were.“ “And who is your crush now?“ - “You are,“ you sigh. “That’s it,“ he says. “And you belong to me?“ The only response you give him is a short nod, but right in the moment you move your head you already know that it’s not going to satisfy him. “I can’t hear you,“ he tells you with his right hand leaving your breast and pulling at your hair lightly. - “I do,“ you manage to press out. “Good.“ He releases your hair and places the hand on your thigh instead. “I’m gonna make you come now and then I’ll follow you. Is that alright with you?“ - “Yes,“ you reply. It’s all you bring out and it sounds like begging. It’s obviously enough for Roger, whose hand moves between your legs and finally touches you there. “Say my name,“ he demands. And you do, or at least you try to; because when he finally brings you over the edge and you feel and hear him following you, all what’s leaving your lips are incomprehensible whines. 

Roger lets himself fall on his back and drags you with him. As soon as you have recovered from your high, you turn around so that your eyes can meet his. He lays his hands on the sides of your face and gives you a short kiss on the nose, making you smile. “I love you,“ he says. - “I love you,“ you reply. “And I want you. You do believe me now, don’t you?“

The question provokes exactly the reaction you had hoped it would. Roger rolls both of you around on the bed, so that he’s lying on top of you. “I still don’t really know.“ He tilts his head. “Maybe I need to be convinced a bit more,“ he says and starts kissing you.

[curly-cal]

L.H | Playing Innocent

Premise: greaser!luke au where he gets a special surprise from the Golden Girl

Word Count: 3105

Warnings: swearing, oral (18+)

A/N: hiya, this has been requested, hope ya’ll like! i know its suppose to be greaser!universe type thing and that its technically suppose to be set in the 60′s but i wrote it in the time frame of maybe 1980′s? i felt like it was easier that way for me as its not a series i wanted to do an immense amount of research on.  This is also my first publish on this blog of any of my writing so i hope you like and pleeease give me feedback. Critique. anything. Its sooo helpful to know what ya’ll like and don’t. Also thank u for requesting bc this was fun to write and now im craving greaser!luke to take me for a spin on his bike. enjoy! xx

Masterlist

It wasn’t as if maths was something he struggled with, in fact, Luke considered himself quite clever when it came to the subject. However, when he found out that y/n was offering her spare time to anyone in the class who needed help, he thought it to be the perfect opportunity to get her to speak to him.

To Luke she was the prettiest girl in the school, maybe even the prettiest on the North side of Riverwood. He was enchanted by the way her hair fell in her face, the way her eyes crinkled in concentration, and how she had an answer to every question Mr. Dundell asked in class.

But Luke had a reputation that he was very well aware of, so he found it difficult to get someone like her to give him even the slightest of her time. She was a typical Good Girl in his eyes. She always got straight A’s, her attire was always perfect, she went home to a happy family, performed in the school plays and volunteered at the diner on weekends.

It wasn’t as if he was afraid to talk to her, not at all, Luke just found it much easier to go after the girls that were throwing themselves at him, rather than chase after some preppy little spoilt girl that would be too frigid to do anything with him anyway, so instead, he admired her from afar. He definitely thought about all the things he would do to her, though, all the ways he could put that chatty little smart-ass mouth to use, and when he did think of those candy pink lips wrapped around his cock, he found himself making excuses so he could go rub one off over her in the boys bathrooms.

_

 He was sitting up in the bleachers when he was caught, she was running laps around the oval for gym and for a split second she let her eyes stray from the path in front of her. They locked with his for only a short moment, but to Luke it felt like a lifetime. When she looked away, however, Luke found himself a little disappointed. A small sigh left his lips, one which didn’t go unnoticed by the hazel eyed greaser to his right.

“You jonesing for that preppy still Hemmings?” Ashton smirked, a tone in his voice that only portrayed mockery.

Luke rolled his eyes at his friend, diverting his attention to him nethertheless. “Shut up.”

Ashton let out a chuckle, but continued on with his teasing. “Isn’t she tutoring? Why don’t you ask dollface to help you out, then you can feel her up, get rejected and move on from this ridiculous crush you can’t seem to piss off.”

And that was how the plan became.

_

Later on that afternoon, Luke found himself transfixed on the girl who sat 3 seats in front and one across from where he had been sitting. She had a piece of hair curled around her finger as she listened to Mr. Dundell explain the notions of algebra. The school day was coming to an end, and not yet had Luke had the opportunity to speak to her since gym. He had a plan to catch her after class when everyone was cleared out, knowing full well that she’d stick around to speak to the teacher about extra notes, that was when he was going to make his move. He planned on playing the fool. To go over to Mr. Dundell and express how difficult he found the assignment and hoped she’d offer, or at-least the teacher would recommend her assistance, and that would be where the plan would begin.

30 minutes went by before the bell rung, then a sea of students jumped up and headed for the door in a rush, leaving only a few left behind. Luke watched as she packed away her things and headed straight to the teacher, where she did infact stand and ask for extra notes.

He quickly jumped up, grabbing his things and headed over to where they stood, but before he could reach her, she was off. Damn it. He thought to himself. He quickly ran after her, calling out her name in hopes she’d hear him in the pit of noise that filled the halls.

He finally caught up to her once she stopped at her locker, his hand flew flat against the locker beside hers, catching her attention as she looked up at the smirking boy standing before her.

“You’re a difficult girl to catch, darlin’” he grinned and wiped a stray strand of curl out of his face.

 Her frown was deep, but sat alongside confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped to rethink her words for a second. “What do you want?” She eventually spoke, but turned to continue putting her things away.

“Want your help, darlin’ my maths isn’t too good. Heard ya willin’ to help out”

Her ears perked at this, she turned and gave him and amused expression. “You want my help? No way.” She laughed as she closed her locker. Y/n began to walk away but frowned as Luke moved in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

“And why not?” He was a little confused, but refused to show her anything but arrogance as he smirked down at her. “Where ya going, Darlin’?”

“Firstly, my names y/n, and secondly, I know you’re not struggling, Luke, you have one of the highest grades in the class. Besides, do you know how it’ll look if I’m seen with you? Already there’s a million eyes watching us.” She spoke as she scanned the hall.

Luke couldn’t help but let out a laugh at this. “You scared to be seen with me, Darlin’? You didn’t strike me as someone who cared about her reputation.”

“I don’t.” She huffed, her back straightening as she tried to stand tall, as if it would help her deceive him.

“Then help me.” He smirked, stepping closer, letting his face inch closer to hers in an attempt to seduce her. “I’ll come by the diner tomorrow, you can help me after you finish.” He winked at her and before she had an opportunity to interject, he was gone, leaving y/n standing in front of her locker in a state of confusion.

“What the heck”

_

It was Saturday afternoon and y/n was just finishing up the last of her duties at work. Luke hadn’t come by yet, much to her relief. She was hoping he’d just forget and she could go straight home and work on her assignment, not that she had much left, considering she had already finished most of the work yesterday after her class. Y/n wasn’t sure how the hell she had even managed to get as much done as she did, considering most of what she could think about was the blonde, curly-haired boy who was forcing her to help him.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know of Luke, because she did. She knew of his reputation, and how he was considered trouble, he and the rest of his pals. The town called them the misfortunates of Riverwood. Notorious for getting into fights, graffiting the back of public toilets and getting caught and arrested by the police for public indecency, which was usually because they were screwing girls in their cars at the drive-in movies.

Being seen with him would definitely make her the talk of the town, and that’s what she was afraid of. Not because she cared of what the people thought, but because her parents had dressed her up as the towns ‘Golden Girl’. She loved her parents and wouldn’t ever want to do anything to displease them, which was why she was nervous. She knew that the reputation her parents tried so hard to maintain, for her benefit and theirs, would be demolished within seconds if people started to think she was in cahoots with the town's biggest trouble maker.

Her thoughts were abrupted by the sound of the diner doorbell, her eyes flicking to the man that had just been taking up her thoughtspace.

She wasn’t going to deny the fact that he was attractive, especially with him standing there in his leather jacket, his curls styled perfectly atop his head, jeans clinging tightly to his legs with what seemed to be a match stick rested between his lips. He gave her a wink as he began to stride over to her. “Darlin’” he nodded in an attempt to greet her. “Ya finished?”

She let out a small sigh, her hands going to the back of her body to untie the apron that adorned her. “Find a booth, I’ll be out in a second.” She turned on her heel and walked out the back, Luke doing as she said and finding a seat somewhere in the back of the diner.

When she came back out, she noticed his books out on the table, but caught a glimpse of him at the dukebox instead. She walked over to where he stood and cleared her throat. “We need to start so I’m home before 6 o’clock.” She sat down and began to flick through her notes.

“Early.” He hummed. “Ya parents strict, Darlin’?” He questioned as he chose a song and then returned to the booth, finally accompanying her.

She rolled her eyes, wishing she could lie without him knowing, but she knew he’d see right through it so she decided to not answer.

Luke let out a small chuckle, removing the stick between his teeth and let it slip between his fingers before speaking again. “Ya do everything they tell ya, Darlin’? They got ya on a leash or something?” He questioned.

“We’re here because you can’t do simple math, Luke, so how about we focus on that.” She bit back, clearly becoming agitated with his questioning.

His hands flew up, but he didn’t bother to hide the smirk that couldn’t help but permanently stick to his face. “Don’t get ya panties in a twist, just tryna see if you’re really as innocent as ya perceive, Darlin’.. clearly ya are.”

The book in her hands thudded against the table, causing a loud bang to fill the diner. Her eyes narrowed at him, a small huff leaving her lips. “Am not.”

“Pretty girls got anger. Don’t let daddy see.” He winked. “Cmon, you’re not fooling anyone, sweets. Everyone knows ya wouldn’t do anything a respected lady wouldn’t do. Would ya, darlin’?”

At this she rolled her eyes. She knew what he was doing. He was testing her, trying to get her to do something that would convince him she wasn’t who she pretended to be. He wanted to see how the real y/n behaved. Which was exactly what he was about to get.

“Fine. You want to see me be naughty? Because I can be naughty.” She hummed. When Luke only laughed at her words, a small ‘yeah right darlin’ left his lips she grinned back at him, a devilishly grin that he wasn’t ready for.

Her eyes grew bright, but filled with a strange colour. “I’ll prove it.” She stood, grabbing her things and quickly packing them away. She began to walk off, and when he didn’t follow, she turned on her heel and looked at him. “Are you coming or what?”

Luke jumped out of his seat and quickly ran after her, tossing everything he had brought into his own bag in the midst of motion. They walked out the front of the store and she turned to him. “Where’s your bike?” She smirked.

Luke’s brows raised but he didn’t speak a word, mainly because he was slightly in shock and confused about what was happening. He wasn’t sure how she was going to show him, but a thrill of excitement washed over him as they both walked to his bike. He helped her on and climbed on afterwards. He didn’t have a helmet to give, but she didn’t seem to mind.

As they drove off, her arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Luke was sure he even felt her hand slip a few times against his member, but he wasn’t convinced it was on purpose, so he stayed quiet, and instead focused on the feeling of her breath on the back of his neck. “Where are we going?” He yelled out.

She grinned and pointed south. “Parklands, Hemmings.”

_

Luke pulled up at the reserve along the water. Trees surrounded them both as he put down the bike stand and waited for her to climb off before following suits. “What’re we doin’ her, darlin’?”

She smirked, her eyes glued to the boy before her as he leaned against his bike. “You wanted to know how innocent I was. I want to show you.” She spoke, seductive-like as she let her pointer finger run down his chest.

Luke’s eyes widened as he finally realised what she meant, but smirked as he began to play along. “Ya gonna show me how naughty you are, darlin’? Nah ya ain’t got it in ya.”

Her lips turned into a slight pout at his teasing. “You don’t know the half of it, Hemmings.” She hummed as she moved closer. She let her eyes stay glued to his as she began to slowly peel off his jacket. “You don’t know how good my mouth feels, how sweet my lips taste. How hot your body would feel up against mine.” She smirked, watching as Luke swallowed a lump in his throat. “You don’t know how well I can make you cum inside my innocent little mouth.”  

He let out a small moan, his eyes filling with lust as he watched the girl before him inch closer to him. All of the things he could only imagine doing with her was about to happen and he couldn’t wait to see how good that dirty mouth of hers felt. His dick grew harder and harder at her words, and all he needed was some sense of touch, so when she refused to give him what he wanted, and continued to tease him with her words, he began to grow agitated. “Darlin’, ya gonna prove ya ain’t all talk or am I gonna have to bend you over and get it out of ya?” He growled.

She smirked at this, her tongue clicking in disapproval. Her hands moved back against his chest, her nails scratching down the material against his chest, eliciting small moans from his lips. Once she had reached the bottom of his shirt, her fingers gently wrapped around the material and began to tug the white t-shirt that clung heavenly to his chest, up over his head and let it fall over his bike where his jacket hung.

Y/n moved quickly, pressing her lips to the exposed skin above his collarbone as she then began to let her lips make their way down his body, stopping a few times to nip and suck on his skin, making sure to leave love bites. Heck, she thought, if I’m going do this, might as well make it memorable. As she slowly reached the bottom of his torso, she found herself falling to her knees. Luke’s hands instantly tangled in her hair as she began to undo his jeans and slide them down his legs. She could see his hard on showing through his briefs, the sight of his large cock making her stomach turn in excitement. She slowly pressed her lips to Luke’s v-line while her fingers began the work of pulling off his boxers.

Once his cock was free, she let her kisses trail to the underside of his shaft, then slowly began to let her tongue trail over his prominent vein.

Even just her breath fanning him had Luke seeing stars, he tried so hard to watch her, but with every small, teasing action, Luke found his eyes drifting shut and his head rolling back in euphoria.

Once her tongue reached the tip of his cock, she hummed slightly, waiting for his eyes to reconnect with hers, and when they did, she gave him a cheeky grin before wrapping her lips around his head completely. A small moan left her lips as she tasted the pre-cum against her tastebuds. Y/n made sure her eyes never once left Luke’s as she began to the bob her head up and down against his cock, small moans escaping her lips and filling the quiet void that surrounded them, her tongue made work on running along his shaft as she continued to blow him.

Luke’s eyes were squinted, his lips in the shape of an ‘o’ as he let loud moans dance with hers. His hands worked her hair, fingers tangling and then releasing as he forced her down on his dick further. The moans and occasional gags began to feel all too much, the familiar feeling in his stomach forming as he looked down at the beautiful sight before him. “Darlin’ ya so good. Darlin’ ‘m gonna cum, ya gotta stop.”

When she refused to stop, Luke’s hands attempted to pull her off, but were met with her own, swatting them away. She continued to run her tongue as she bobbed her head, purposely moaning against his cock until she could feel liquid fill her mouth.

A loud grunt left his lips alongside a loud “fuck Darlin’ ‘m cumin’” as he released his load inside her. She continued to work him through his high, both of them now releasing quiet, short moans as she milked him of his orgasm.

After he had finished, he carefully helped her off his cock, a loud ‘pop’ noise leaving her lips as she smirked and looked up at him.

His chest was heavy and breathing uneven, but all he could pay attention to was the girl before him, down on her knees, looking up at him with a devilish smirk on her face, alongside a whole heap of saliva, mixed with his cum. “Not so innocent now, hm?” She smirked.

Luke let out a low chucked, his finger moving to wipe at the mess on her face before forcing his finger in her mouth for her to suck clean. “Not so much, darlin’ not so much.” He smirked as he removed his finger. “Should’ve asked for ya help earlier, who knew what I was missin’ out on.”

She grinned at that then stood up. “You never needed my help, did you hemmings?”

“Nah, but now Darlin’, now I might just.”

[pinkykitten]

Dancing Mission

Detroit: Become Human

Connor x female! reader

Warning: cussing, a sex offender dude, some blood

Specifics: comedy, violence, fluff, romance, man vs man, dancing, women power, race neutral reader

People: Connor, you, Hank Anderson, Devin James (oc), Carl Hunter (oc), Markus (mentioned)

Words: 2,993

Summary: You a cop as well, work with Hank and Connor to take down a man named Devin James. What you don’t know is you have to go undercover in a club. You end up dancing with Connor. 

Authors Note: i know is suck at summaries, im so used to just gettin the frickin request and just copy and paste u know. but omg i think i am in luv with this story. this is prob now one of my fav stories i have done. i have watched all of dbh on jacksepticeyes channel (lol im too cheap y’all) and it is one of my fav games. my sis luvs connor to pieces as do i (cuz he luvs dogs duh) so this is for her. i’ve wanted to write a dbh fic for the longest time so here it is. i really want to write more so pls request more of this and feedback is much appreciated here. 

“-so that means that we have to act natural like one of them,” Hank explained while driving to the destination. 

You, sitting in the back of the car thought about this mission. You have worked with Hank for a couple of months, you’re both practically friends. Maybe even BEST FRIENDS (lol idk why i feel like this sentence would sound like spongebobs voice. well it kinda makes sense since the dude who plays hank plays mr krabs...anyways) 

The goal was to arrest a man named Devin James. Supposedly, he has been keeping deviants for about 2 years. He sells them for quite a lot of cash to those who want to “fix” them. Your expression turned into sadness when you read his file. You understood what he did to these deviants. He would lock them up, abuse, torture them, and then sell them to others. But not so they can be fixed its so the buyers can torture the deviants more. 

Unfortunately, you knew why he needed to be arrested. It was not because he was doing these things to the androids. It is because he is selling deviants. In your mind however, you saw this as a rescue mission. To make sure those deviants get out, even if it kills you. 

Your group came into contact with him. Devin was now currently, in a club called “Pomegranate”. 

“Weird name for a club,” you laughed looking outside the window. It was midnight, the night sky pitch black. There was tiny drops of rain pattering against the glass.

“Maybe it is called Pomegranate because when a woman opens up her legs-”

“Shhhh Connor! There is a woman seated in the back!” You called out, your eyes widened in surprise that Connor knew those types of things. You scratched your nose and wiggled your eyebrows, “Hank, you gotta be careful with this one. Apparently he’s either been too much into fanfiction or hentai to know those types of facts.”

Hank looked into the rear view mirror, “In a minute y/n I’m gonna throw your as* outside this car into the pouring rain! Now can we talk about the dam* arrest!”

You shrugged and laid back muttering, “It was your baby Connor’s fault.”

Hank gave you a glare through the mirror. Any words that were about to come out of your mouth were quickly swallowed down. 

The car stopped and you jumped out. 

“Alright, remember what I said act. Natural. This guys good, he has ran away from the police many, many, many times. So we need to make sure that he doesn’t know that we’re cops,” Hank instructed slamming his car door.

You nodded, “Right, right, right. But let me ask you this Hank from “Finding Dory” how the hel* is Mr. Roboto here gonna oh I don’t know...blend in. When he’s a fuc*in android!”

“I also see no way out of this Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor added. 

Hank rolled his eyes at you and opened his trunk, “I was gonna get to that, y/n! Disguises.”

You peered into the trunk to see a plain tux, a bedazzled 80s suit (which of course you knew to be for Hank), and a dress. 

“Connor you wear this tux, and you y/n, wear this dress.”

Connor eyed the tux that was handed to him weirdly, and you groaned at the dress. 

“I do not think I can do this. It is not in my making to change my outfit-”

“Well, what about me! I mean it is in my making to change but like...I DON’T WANNA,” you interrupted Connor, making him blink like “what just happened.”

Hank closed the trunk and locked his car, “No if, ands, or buts. Go to the restrooms and put them on.”

You heaved a heavy sigh, “Ugh! I have my stupid period and now I have to wear this dumb dress,” you grumbled as you trudged inside the club. 

“Keep an eye out for y/n, okay Connor,” Hank said as he walked inside. 

Dua Lipa & Calvin Harris - One Kiss (i feel like this song would be played like at a disco club or something. i luv this song and always want to jam to this. this song is playing in the club)

Connor was changed into his tuxedo and Hank was in his suit. 

“I’m gonna head over there, see if I can find him. You-,” Connor and Hank looked up to see you come out of the bathroom. 

(omg i can so imagine this the chorus comes on or in this vid 1:02) You dolled yourself to look like a million bucks. Make up on and hoop earrings. “You guys ready?”

If you hadn’t known any better you would have thought they got a boner because of you. 

“Y/n,” Connor whispered, mesmerized by your look. The dress clung on to all the right places. 

“Jesus y/n, look at you. Connor close your mouth,” Hank chuckled. “Alright I’m gonna go over there see you guys in a few if you haven’t got any leads. Let me know if you spot him though, alright? Good!” Hank left. 

You walked well more like almost tripped with the 9-inch heels. “You go by the exits, Connor. And I’ll take the bar.” You pushed your boobs up (if u aint got titties dont worry u added some padding then, every boob counts👍) , “Okay ladies...do your job.” 

You swayed to the bar, trying to entice a man like Devin. Instead, Connor looked with big, wide, eyes. “I swear I haven’t even had a dic* bigger than 9-inches. How do you expect me to walk in these Hank?!?” You grumbled aloud to yourself.

“Excuse me, baby but you are sure lookin fine,” a tall man growled as he grabbed a handful of your butt. 

You rose your brow and tried not to punch him in the balls. “Do not blow you’re cover y/n,” you thought to yourself. 

“Hey, give her an old fashioned,” the man ordered the bar tender.

You nodded and smacked your lips together, “oh, okay, so you want me to be drunk as hel*. I gotcha.”

The man laughed and licked his lips, “Thats funny. This drink will make you grow chest hair, that is for sure.”

The bartender gave you the drink. You coughed, and prepared yourself to be drunk in this mission. You chugged the liquid down. The whiskey burning your throat. It all slid south and you put the glass down harshly. “Baby, know that women got hair all over.” You raised your arms up and showed your armpits. Hey, you haven’t shaved in a while. You a busy gal. (if u think that this is nasty u better get off this blog right now)

“Dam* girl, you for real though,” the guy sat down on the bar stools. Eyeing your whole body. 

“I don’t sugar coat. Anyways, whats your name?”

“Carl, Carl Hunter. You?”

“Y/n, L/n.”

“Hey, bartender can she just have a light sangria.”

You pulled your dress down in order to sit on the bar stool. In the process, you put your purse down on the floor, in between your legs. 

You then put your attention to Carl again and saw your drink was waiting for you. 

“Why thank you, Carl. I think I’m not gonna drink anymore than this so here,” you handed the bartender, “is the cash.”

Carl stepped in and forced your hand down. “Baby, I got this. My mama always taught me how to be a gentleman. I will pay for this.”

You knitted your eyebrows together, “Are you sure?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You grinned and stroked his arm. He winked at you. As he was paying the bartender you took out a device called “pd.id”. It shows if your drink has been spiked. 

“Pric*,” you muttered. You brought out your handcuffs out and handcuffed him to the stool. 

“Hey, what the fuc* you think you doin?”

“I am saving women, pig! Trying to drug my drink huh? Thought it could get past me? You are dead wrong, and your name was Carl Hunte?” You wrote it on your hand. “Got it, thanks Carl for buying my drinks. Hope you like prison.” You poured the sangria all over his head and walked to Connor. 

“Have you found him yet y/n?” Connor was by the dance floor. 

“Nope, but I found a disgusting sex offender. So still kinda saved the day,” you sighed, placing your hands on your hips. 

You phoned Hank who was...somewhere. “Where you at Hank?”

“I’ve asked around to see if someone knows him or if they’ve sighted him. But everyone around here acts like dumbas*es. You got anything?”

You snickered, “Nada, hey I’ll make this bet. Whoever gets Devin first gets their drink paid by the loser.” Your eyebrows rose as you looked to Connor who looked at you with puppy, innocent eyes. “And Connor can have some...blood...”

Connor smiled and looked away.

You could hear Hank on the other side chuckling, “Okay y/n...you’re on. Have fun...LOSER!” Then Hank hanged up the call. 

“As*,” you laughed. 

You then saw the dance floor and people were dancing all over. It was as if a light bulb went off in your brain. “I have an idea,” you said aloud. 

You grabbed onto Connor’s hand and guided him with a sway of your hips to the dance floor. 

“Have I ever told you I love this song,” you grinned. Your feet stepping to the beat. Connor just stood like a plank of wood. Just mesmerized by your moves.

“One kiss is all it takes, fallin in love with me,” you sang, goofing off also by doing the underwater dance. “C’mon Connor join me.”

Connor’s mouth was open wide, “Oh, um, um, I do not think dancing is in my program.”

You brought your hands on Connor’s shoulders, and your body bent and stretched all over. “I’ll teach you robo boy,” you winked. 

Connor’s cheeks created a blue blush, he was a lost for words. His eyes were glued to your eyes. Drinking everything in. 

“You move like this, put your hands here,” you said while placing Connor’s hands on your hips. “Now just feel the beat, the rhythm, be one with the song.”

Connor stumbled a bit, but then he got the hang of it. “I, I think I am doing it y/n.”

“See! There you go!”

You both moved together so perfectly. Like trees swaying in the wind. Like a river. Your hands traveled all over Connor and he developed an even deeper blush. 

You then let go of him and danced by yourself. He studied your dancing for a while then he danced by himself. 

look up on youtube Bryan Dechart dancing as Connor

Finally, Connor was being...Connor. He was being himself. He was proving to the world that androids are not just things, they are living and they deserve to be free. 

“Oh my god, YES CONNOR! GO CONNOR! Woooohooooo!!!!!,” you cheered jumping up and down. 

You both danced then like animals. Shaking not caring if you both looked like two goofballs. The dance floor was empty so it was just the two of you. You did the sprinkler dance. Connor then started laughing and smiling from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, go y/n, go y/n,” Connor cheered as well. 

You heard the song was almost to the end. Your body twirled to Connor’s body until you both were almost glued together. 

“You are extremely beautiful...y/n...,” Connor whispered only so you and him could hear.

“And you Connor are important to me,” you whispered to him. You both were closing the gap between you two, your lips almost meeting. 

“Guys, I found Devin,” Hank yelled to you both as he appeared before you two. “Oh, um, am I disturbing something?”

“You found him,” you questioned as Hank ran ahead. You broke contact with Connor and gave him a guilty face. You stepped off the dance floor and brought your gun out of your thigh holster, following Hank, with Connor behind you. 

You sprinted to the commotion of people now screaming since smart pants Devin tried to shoot you guys. You tried to see him over the sea of people. 

“I spot him,” you shouted, not caring of the protests of Hank and Connor. “Don’t worry guys I got this!”

 You ran after Devin, stumbling a few times from the dumb heels. You look down, “Dam* heels!” While going after this man, you take the heels off and throw them at him (kinda like Nakia from Black Panther). He screams in pain but doesn’t stop. He jumps over boxes of booze from the club and you do the same. You chase him out of the club, going in the street. 

“GET DOWN NOW,” you scream at him. “If you do not stop I will shoot!”

The man kept going until you shook your head, breathed hard a couple of times, you sped, fast after him. It was if you were possessed by Usain Bolt. You caught up to him, your dress ripped by your legs. You pounced on Devin, putting his arms behind his back in a death grip. “PUT THE GUN DOWN, NOW!”

Devin, breathing harshly, threw the gun away from you both. “Owww you’re hurting me,” he whined. 

“Good,” you sassed back, picking him up harshly. More in the light you can see where the end of your heel hit the side of his head. You tried not to laugh, muffling your giggles. 

You picked up the gun and walked back to Hank and Connor who were not far from you. 

“That was very impressive,” Connor smirked while winking like you did. 

“...am I missing something here,” Hank eyed both of you. 

You gave a lopsided grin, “Oh Hank, if only you knew...No, you’re missing your Devin. Here’s his gun and you owe me a drink...loser” You threw the gun to Hank and chuckled. 

As Hank took a hold of Devin you went to his level to speak to him. “So Devin, where you hidin these deviants?”

“I won’t tell...cun*,” he hissed. You punched his face, your ring making a mark on his nose it also looking a little crooked, and blood coming out. Heh, marked twice by you. 

“Y/n, can you please be a little more fuc*in professional, right Connor?” Hank asked Connor.

Connor shrugged, “I think that punch was needed.”

“Okay, I am definitely missing something,” Hank shouted. 

You gripped Devin’s face, “You. Don’t. Talk. To. Women. Like. That. Understand? Now, again, where are the deviants?”

“In my warehouse, like 5 blocks from here.”

“Thank you,” you said professionally. You walked barefoot to the car, and waited for the boys.

“I have gotten you these,” Connor handed you a pair of flip flops. “I know it is not much, but I much prefer you walking in them then on the wet ground.”

You smiled and thanked him. Hank was driving to the warehouse that Devin talked about. 

“I think this is it,” you called, looking out your window to see a rusty metal warehouse. The scene you walked on upon looked like it was taken from a 80s horror film. The lightning striking like a whip in the dark clouds. You brought your flashlight out. “Whelp boys, lets see what we find in here.” 

You all walked inside. You were thankful you were out of the pouring rain, but now you were stuck in the cold metal warehouse. Shivering like a pair of rattled bones, you tried to cover your bare arms by hugging yourself. 

“Here y/n, take this. I do not want you to get a cold,” Connor gently placed his tux jacket on your shoulder, leaving him in a tight white shirt with a black bow tie.

“Thanks...Connor,” you smiled, cuddling yourself in the jacket. 

“I think we should all spread out. Just remember though, we’re dealing with deviants...be careful, all of you,” Hank said making his way to the right. Connor chose the left, while you, well didn’t choose but were stuck with the middle. 

You tiptoed silently, trying not to make any noise. It was dark, and dusty. It was extremely hard for you not to erupt into a coughing fit. Suddenly, you heard a bang coming from the side of you. You jumped almost like a cat. You stood there, trying to do breathing exercises, and to try to steady your heart. Even though lets be real, your heart was not steady even to begin with this mission. Everything was thrown, antique chairs, a type writer, and pieces of a car hung from the ceiling. The dust particles traveled across the light from your flashlight. The dirt was all muddy since there were tiny holes in the roof. It smelled disgusting, like a farm. 

“How could anyone live like this,” you spoke aloud, covering your nose with Connor’s jacket. 

“Please, save us,” you heard from in front of you. You panicked and turned every which way, trying to find the source of that voice. 

“We beg you save us. Let us be free.”

“Get us out of here.”

“We want to be free.”

“Is that our savior, Marcus?”

“Please, save us.”

“Please!”

Your flashlight then came upon the cells and cells of deviants. Some were all white having taking off their skin. Some were broken, missing limbs, missing an eye. Some were still freshly made new, just with a few tiny scratches. But they all had one thing in common. They were begging. Begging you to set them free. They were tired of living like this. Your heart saddened for them, why couldn’t androids be free? Why were they abused and slaughtered like this? It was not right. But what if you did let them all out? Would you loose the trust of Hank, or even worse Connor? Would you loose your job letting these deviants out secretly? There were only two choices, 

were you going to leave the deviants?

or...were you going to let them out?

You had to decide...

[darthbelle]

Good morning, Sam! I'm here with a few more fanfic writer asks if it's alright with you? How about 13, 14, 19, 20, 27 and 31 (for AEAL, I know you already talked about it a little when answering similar asks, but can u get into some more detail pls? Like, you thought about the piano scene and theeeen?...)? Have yourself a lovely day at your haunted cat farm (I presume)!

Hey! Sounds good to me!

13. When did you start writing fanfic?

 I actually just checked, and I was apparently 15 when I started writing fic! I started off with a few drabble-length fics, and then literally the next day, I started a multi-chap that, until AEAL, was the longest thing I’d ever written.

14. How do you feel about your older work?

Pretty conflicted, actually. 

I think that the ideas that I had were decent. The execution, though leaves something to be desired. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that I know that people genuinely enjoyed (enjoy?) some of my older work, I would have considered taking them down and either completely starting them over from scratch at a later date or just never re-uploading them. 

But the stuff I wrote a year or two later (so, my Jori fics) I’m still proud of. I mean, I went and edited them all within the past year and finally uploaded them to AO3. Some of them I barely had to change at all, and some I didn’t need to change, but did anyway (like I did with Sober, actually). 

I’m glad I wrote the things I did (for the most part). They made me a better writer at the time, and I’m still pretty proud of some of the things I wrote. But they’re not up to the level of things I’m writing now (which need work themselves!), which is understandable considering I was a literal 15 year old when I was writing them

So yeah, conflicted but like, I don’t hate it 

19. What words do you think you tend to use the most?

Fuck. 

No, actually, I use fuck a lot without even meaning to. It just kinda slips out, especially in dialogue. 

Also, it’s less words and more patterns of words, but I use like, “arched eyebrows” and stuff like that a lot. Glances and glaring and honestly just anything to do with facial expressions...I tend to rely on that kind of thing. 

20. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear?

Gosh, how does one answer this without feeling a little conceited?

I don’t know if happiest is the right word, but if someone tells me that something I wrote made them cry, then I know that I’m doing something right because at least my fic made them feel. It’s also really cool when someone just is like “I spent all night reading this and just wanted to say that I liked it a lot” because it’s just so cool that someone would take the time to read something I wrote??? 

27. What time of day do you prefer to write?

It’s not that I like to write at this time of day, but I tend to write in the late morning and early afternoon because that’s generally the only time that I can actually write. 

Weirdly, I like to read and edit at night, though. 

31. What was the development process of [Fanfic Name] like?

Tell ya what, if I had known that AEAL was going to be somewhat popular, I probably would have kept a better record of its development process

But, just from deep diving through my records (literally, I was keyword searching through ancient messages and shit), it seems as if I started writing AEAL sometime in November of 2019. Well, I started doing research and very basic writing then. I don’t think I really started writing it until Christmas, maybe. At that time, I was still editing...Sober, I think? Wait, nope, apparently it was Empty. Dang, my timeline is all messed up.  Anyway

Maybe I should start from the beginning.  So, back in November last year, Victorious was put onto Netflix and suddenly, almost overnight, there was this fandom that just hadn’t existed the day before. I mean, it did exist- I know that there were still people writing Jori fic out there and stuff like that- but it was nothing like it had been back in like, 2012 and 2013. But then Netflix put it up and all of these people, whether they were like me and coming back to an old fandom or if they were brand new fans, were creating and interacting with Jori again. 

So I decided that maybe it was time to transfer over my old Jori fics onto AO3. Thankfully, I decided to read them first, though, and realized that I could make them better. Like, over 6 years had passed since I had worked on them and I figured I could try and fuck around with them a little just to see how they would be received. 

And, uh, they were received pretty well, I guess.

I started with Devil’s Advocate, which I considered my weakest of the three Jori fics I had at the time, and worked up to Sober, which was the one I remembered the most and was most excited to work on. And I got like, halfway through DA and was like “maybe it’s time for me to start writing again”. And that was...honestly, I was nervous. I hadn’t written anything other than research papers for years at that point, and even though my editing process had required me to write a bit (like, whole chapters in some places), it wasn’t the same as starting from scratch and coming up with something new. 

Around that time, I opened up a document and wrote down the line: “No one really expected Tori to go to college” (side note, I always think that I put “Vega” in there, too, but I guess I didn’t). And then I did some research (several hours worth) about the California university system, decided that it was way too complicated for me to do properly (and I kinda didn’t want someone to come into my comments and be like “well, actually” about the dang California educational system) and came up with a generic liberal arts college instead. 

And then I wrote the first page or two and got stuck. Like, really stuck. I had no idea what the hell I was doing, or what the story was even supposed to be. I wanted Tori and Jade to be at college together and that was about it. I think I almost abandoned it a few times just because like, the likelihood of me actually progressing forward with this fic was pretty small. It wasn’t even like some of the other fics I’ve started and never finished because at least with those I had written whole ass scenes before I stopped. AEAL (which was just known as “untitled as of now” until the day I uploaded the first chapter) only had a few hundred words and I wasn’t even happy with them. 

I don’t really remember what happened between then and early January. But in early January, I was struck with the imagery of...well, the piano scene. And I knew I had to write it because it was going to be stuck in my head forever otherwise. 

I just had to get to it. 

So I finished editing Empty, started editing Sober, and really started writing this silly little college fic that didn’t have a title. At some point pretty soon after, I had another image pop into my head: that of Tori stopping Jade from going up the stairs at a frat house with a guy they didn’t know. At that point, I didn’t know it was going to be the storyline it turned into- it was just going to be a catalyst for pushing them together, nothing more. 

I didn’t plan things very much at that point. I just wrote and the words just came out and by the time I hit chapter 6, I realized that I needed to make some decisions about the rest of the fic because whatever I did next would basically dictate what direction the story was going to go.

So I made some decisions. Wrote some things that didn’t work and pulled them and started over and by St. Patrick’s Day, I decided that they were going to go Shakespearean. 

And then there was Jake, and figuring out what to do with him, and the whole...well, everything else...and all throughout this I had that damn piano scene in the back of my head and goddammit I was going to write that damn scene even if it killed me. 

But uh...I almost didn’t write that scene. I almost didn’t write a lot of scenes. There were so many points where I had to make decisions about certain things and those certain things would have changed everything. 

But I guess I made the right decisions in the end (hopefully) because...well, I finished the fic. And I wrote that damn piano scene. 

Sorry for the literal essay of an answer, but uh...hope it provided enough detail for ya?

And thank you! You have a good day, too. Got any other questions?

[greasygyeom]

Title: Ocean Tides

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: I feel it burning me, I feel it burning you. Youngjae x Reader. Fluff.

Note: I’m really scared of posting this because I really hope I did him justice. I love this beaming ray of sunshine so much. Feedback is very welcome. Thank you for reading!!

Playlist: 170923

He saw you by the ocean, lost in a world he felt the need to dive in. You were gazing, far and wide; like your horizon stretched beyond where one blue ended and another began — like it was the black hole and you were making acquaintance with another universe existing inside of it.

He had to know you.

He sat there at a distance and studied you — how your lips curled into a grin, how your eyes narrowed, how your hands moved, how with every gush of fresh air your hair swayed like the branches of a willow.

He had to talk to you.

But he lacked the confidence to walk up to a stranger, no matter how compelled he felt by their presence.

So he simply admired you, till the ocean engulfed the sun whole, till you packed up your belongings and left — till you became nothing more than a fragment existing in his memory.

He went back to his hotel room extremely confused, that evening. Perhaps he should have had more resolve. If he hadn't shrivelled up into his shell, maybe he could have spoken to you, heard your voice. He couldn't stop pondering over the sound of your voice. Whether it was soft and sticky like a caramel-filled chocolate toffee or layered and spongy like a tiramisu.

He hastily shrugged off his thoughts under the rug. It was pointless thinking such things, because now you were just a girl from his memories, who could be existing in her own world, anywhere on the small island.

"Youngjae?" His friend snapped him out of his daydreams. "You okay there? You look a little winded."

"Yeah, I'm okay, just....drifting."

In his mind he was already writing a ballad.

"Let's go get something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry though."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay, hyung, really."

He drew himself a bath when he was all by himself again. He needed to forget about you. But all he did instead was write lyrics conveying how much he wished he could have met you, even if for a few seconds. He carried his notebook out into the balcony. The ocean glistened in shades of blue, under the moonlight. It felt like an invisible string had gotten tangled around him and was pulling him towards something unknown.

He wrote until his eyes felt heavy and his throat felt dry, eventually drifting off to sleep, thinking about the song he'd conjured in those few hours.

But something was missing. Something was always missing.

He woke up, jumping out of his bed from a terrifying dream. It was that kind where he thought he was free falling onto the ground from a massive height. His heart was beating out of his chest. He hated dreams like these. They riled him up. He sat in bed shaken for a few seconds - until his phone rang out the silence and he jumped in surprise again.

“Aah. Seriously.” he scolded himself, half laughing. He always got jump scared so easily, all his friends took advantage of it in taking turns to scare him.

It was 9 am already? After almost 8 hours and he, somehow, still managed to feel tired.

He headed down for breakfast as fast as he could. He’d completely forgotten about the meetings he had to attend regarding his solo releases. Even though it was by and large a recreational trip, work never really left him anymore.

“Hyung, you want to go to the beach again?” one of his friends, who’d accompanied him on the trip, asked.

“Maybe, after I get free.” Youngjae replied, trying to focus on his ramen, as you sneaked your way back into his mind.

“Oh you should have really come out last night. It was great.” he continued. “We ate so much food. and there were no cucumbers in anything, so you would have really enjoyed yourself.”

Youngjae wheezed, trying not to be too loud. he really hated cucumbers.

“And there was this girl who was singing at the lounge. She was so good. You would have really liked it.” he said, stuffing his mouth with more kimbap.

And just like that a thought clicked in his mind. He needed a female lead for the song.

That’s what was missing.

He went about his mundane meetings, letting his manager talk for him on most occasions, so he could live in his head a little more.

Every now and then he’d laugh and smile and pretend to show interest in contracts. Then fall right back into the vast ocean of thoughts about you. He was in fact impatient to go to the beach again, hoping that maybe he’d be able to see you again. He was preparing himself either way.

“You worked hard today.” his manager patted him on his back after one particular, excruciatingly long discussion about his intellectual property rights.

“Yeah, you too. What would I do without you.”

“Probably give your skills away for free.”

He laughed out, making some strangers turn around. “No, hyung, I’m not that bad.”

“Listen why don’t you head down to the beach. I’ll take care of everything that is left. It’s not much anyway.”

“Really, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah go on ahead. I’ll meet you later.”

He excused himself from the building and headed to where his friends were already wreaking a havoc. The beach was his escape from all the worldly things that exhausted him. It had seen all his shades and moods, from childhood to now. It always felt like home.

He walked into the small homely eatery, a few ways away from the main beach, to find his friends sitting around a giant pile of food, on the porch

“Wait… what happened to playing volleyball?” he asked, confused.

“We…. got lazy.” one of them said.

He sat around the edge of the table, on the floor, stuffing his mouth with the samgyupsal his friends had already barbecued. Even though he was fostering this hope that he’d find you again, he couldn’t help but dismiss this optimism at the same time.

Jeju was small, but not that small — or was it?

Somewhere in the distance you could hear a loud bunch of boys. You were agitated, but your mind kept singling out a particular sound. A roaring laugh that reverberated as loud as the thunder but felt as soft as a wind chime.

You looked around to find the source of that laughter, but there was no one in your vicinity who could match it. You went back to gazing at the clouds that passed you by. The sky tuned from a soft blue to a pastel pink with a blink of an eye. The wind played around with your hair and the sea hummed soft lullabies.

There were so many things you needed to forget, from a life that was no longer a part of you. Sitting with your feet buried in the sand and watching the ocean breathe seemed like the only way for you to exorcise your memories.

You’d often heard people express their gratitude towards their families, but never truly understood it. Where you came from, family had meant regular screaming matches and a passive disregard for the other persons feelings. You’d never felt unconditional love, because with your parents there were always some strings attached. That condescending tone, the constant bickering, it never left you.

But you needed it out of your system. You needed years of unhealthy patterns to disintegrate. You needed to move on from the so called blood relationships. So you sat by the shore and purged everything out, one day at a time.

"AH HYUNG HYUNG I AM SORRY!" Someone squealed in the background, in the midst of jovial banter.

“What did you say about Nora liking you more?” a different voice said.

And there it was again, that laugh. It was so loud, but it warmed your heart. You wanted to keep hearing it over and over again. Something about it drew you in, but it died down again after a few moments.

You went back to your clouds, even though you really wanted to find the source of that voice.

"It's going to rain today." You mumbled to yourself, when the sky turned a purplish-grey instead of an orangish-yellow, like it usually did.

Your mind kept returning to that echo that had lit up a fireplace by your heart. It had settled at the pit of your stomach like cocoa powder sedimenting in a cup of hot milk. It had put a smile on your face. You hadn't smiled this genuinely in months.

You got up and walked towards where you thought the vocals we're emanating from. Around 7 boys were sitting by the porch and your curiosity was getting the better of you. They seemed to be enjoying a hearty meal. You caught a glimpse of one of them, but your anxiety shot up when you met his eyes and a switch flipped in your mind. It made you take a sharp u-turn and speed out of his vicinity.

His mind froze. Could that really be her?

You vanished so fast.You didn't stop walking until you were out of the sandy ground and back in your room, all your words still caught up in your throat. The water on your 10th floor window blurred the city out of your vision.

That day it poured down like the skies had parted to let a river descend down on earth.

By the time the boys made it out of the beach, they were completely drenched. They walked leisurely in the rain, playing around in the puddles.

“Youngjae, why didn’t you talk to her?”

“Huh? who?” he squinted. He could barely see, and the cold wind was getting into his bones.

“That girl.”

So she was really there.

“She left so quickly.”

“She was staring at you for at least one minute before she bolted.”

“Aah, Jinyoung hyung don’t lie.”

“I’m not. Ask any of them.”

“She looked a lot like the singer from last night…no?” a very tall boy chimed in.

“Aah, seriously guys stop teasing me like this. I’m really cold. I’m going ahead.” Youngjae said, and sprinted through the blinding downpour.

It wasn’t like him to react this way, but he also wasn’t in the mood for jokes. You were so close and he did nothing to stop you.

The hotel floors were overflowing with janitors and a sudden influx of drenched guests dragging their muddy feet through the floors. Youngjae absent-mindedly made his way to his room. For the first time, in the thousands of trips they had taken together, he’d gotten a separate room for himself. He changed out of his rain-soaked attire, his mind once again heavily lost, in thoughts of you.

He felt a little foolish, for not following up on his own words. But he never thought he’d actually see you again. He’d walked through the whole beach, before meeting up with his friends, hoping he’d find you gazing at the lazy sky. He never expected you to walk up to him. He didn’t even get to know what you were looking for — because he knew you were looking for something.

Staring blankly at the piece of paper he'd been composing on, all of yesterday, he realised he'd let you just slip by twice. It didn’t please him, because cause he wasn't sure if he'd even get another chance.

But he did.

That evening he got dragged down to the lounge, by everyone.

"You came here with us to spend time with yourself?”

He couldn't really say no after that implied tone.

Youngjae tried his best to stay in the conversational loop, nodding and laughing, all the while trying to catch stray thoughts as they jumped in loops around his head.

"Oh oh! See I was right! It was her!"

The high pitch his friend spoke in startled him as he re-focussed his eyes on the dimly lit stage, now occupied by a small body. His eyes widened.

It felt like the day on the beach when he first saw you sitting in the sand. You still looked like you were in the deep sea, swimming with orcas.

The host announced your name but he couldn't quite catch it. His attention remained on you.

Your eyes flickered as the audience blurred into a black mass. Internally your mind and body were shaking, but externally you looked at peace.

"It's okay, sing." You told yourself, as your cue inched closer with every second. Everything became irrelevant the moment your voice left your throat.

Caramel. You sounded like the taste of a caramel on his tongue.

He forgot himself in you for those forty five minutes and unconsciously hummed along; mentally preparing himself to find some courage. Hearing you sing so beautifully somehow both intimidated and soothed him. When your set came to an end, he got up from his seat, clapping hysterically.

Maybe the third time was really the charm.

"Youngjae-ya she'll leave again. Go."

"Hyung, I can't do it."

"If you don't go I will take you with me to the haunted house tomorrow."

“No, no. I'm not doing either of these things, Mark hyung" he whined and sat back down.

"Haunted house, tomorrow."

"No."

"Then go talk to her."

"Maybe layer," he negotiated, not noticing a masked human creeping up right next to his face.

“Psst…Youngjae”, the man whispered in a deep rumble.

Unaware of the close proximity, Youngjae turned his head and yelped rather loudly at the view. He slipped from his chair and fell on Mark — half screaming, half laughing.

There it was again. That same ring in the air. That thunderous wind chime. Was it all in your head, because you seemed to be hearing it everywhere you went. you turned around while walking towards the back of the stage and hear more muffled laughs. When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see group of people huddled near a boy dangling on another person. Was the laughter coming from there? It seemed unlikely. You dismissed your wavering thoughts and hurried off the stage, for the next singer to set up.

While Youngjae regained his breath after that jump-scare he’d been given, Jinyoung casually commented, “Oops, she’s gone.”

He sighed heavily, getting up from Mark’s lap. “It’s fine guys. I — wouldn’t know what to say to her anyway.”

“She’s still there hyung, just go tell her you like her voice. It’s not like it’s a lie.”

“I’ll really take you to the horror house, Youngjae.”

“Aah, no. Okay fine, I’m going.”

When you saw someone walk towards you, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. A lot of people often came up to you and praised your singing, but you never once got comfortable with the idea of interacting with strangers. Not that you were a thankless ingrate… just a shy introvert.

You plastered that smile on your face — the one you had practiced for months now, to somewhat hide your insecurities.

Your heart skipped a tiny beat when he stood in close proximity to you. He didn’t make you the kind of nervous you were expecting. It was a different feeling altogether. Like you both were made from the same stardust and were only just meeting now. Your insides were fluttering.

"You have a beautiful voice." He said, nervously. He didn't say you were an excellent singer or that your range and hold was impeccable. It was a much deeper appreciation.

You fumbled through your words to thank him.

“I never found out what you were looking for though."

You looked at him, puzzled by the question, but then your cheeks flushed a bight red with embarrassment. Your memory rebooted itself. You remembered where you’d seen him before.

“I —

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." He dismissed himself hastily, before adding, "I'm Youngjae.”

You semi-giggled because of the wide smile on his face.

"I'm Fawn and don't worry. I just... am like this"

There was something different about him. He felt like the sun that had been shining on you during your escape visits to the beach - soft and healing.

"Do you want to.... maybe go to the garden or something, if you have time?"

You nod, you had all the time in the world.

He laughed, shyly, tucking his brownish hair behind his ear.

It really was him.

You felt a warmth spread over your limbs. The laughs finally had a face. It felt unreal but you were relieved - at least it wasn't a figment of your imagination. You weren't that crazy, yet.

Every bench in the park was empty but you went and sat on the grass. It was easier to lay down and stare at the skies.

It was surprisingly easy to talk to him and he heard you out with utmost attention - about your music and career, your influences, your background; he wanted to know everything he could, in a single night.

"Are you here for a vacation?" You asked, looking into his eyes — they seemed to hold answers to the universe, answers you'd been seeking for so long. You got lost in them.

Several minutes passed and neither of you said anything.

You ran your fingers on his cheeks, like you were under a spell. There was a small mole under his eye, it made you smile again.

"What?" He gently questioned.

"Nothing."

He took your hand in his, his heart ready to jump out of his chest. "I'm here for business and vacation. I'll be gone soon."

"Hmm, me too."

"Will you sing with me?” he blurted, immediately regretting saying it.

"You want me to sing with you? You sing?"

“I’m….. yeah, kind of.”

He explained to you the nature of his work and waited expectantly for a positive response. You contemplated for a few seconds, just to cause him some agony. He looked like a lost puppy with his eyebrows furrowed in that manner.

You eventually said yes. His eyes lit up even brighter than they had been all this while. You couldn't quite explain it but he somehow made everything better.

"You still haven't told me though."

"What?"

"What did you come looking for? To the shed?"

You took in a deep breath. "You. I came looking for you."

He tilted his head at you, his eyes focused on your lips, and captured you in a deep, gentle, loving kiss.

The ocean tides wrapped you in a blanket of calm, as did he, with his arms now coiled around you.

“I’m glad you found me first.” he said, holding you tightly.

You smiled at the stars shining over you and gave him a peck on his cheek.

“I’m glad too.”

[rxdonmyledger]

Writer’s Block|| II.

Summary: In which Sebastian and you have the same writing course and you deal with a terrible writer’s block. Will he be able to help you?

Author’s Note: As promised, Part 2 of this little story I created in my mind. I remembered that Sebastian has a cat allergy so I put it! As always, I hope you enjoy it and feel free to comment whatever you want. Feedback would be appreciated.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), Protected sex, Fluff!

Words: 3,167.

You poured the hot water on the mug, observing the mist rising from it. You left the teapot and put a tea bag inside, covering it before moving back to your desk, where the laptop rested. The document had several lines written and the cursor flickering, waiting for you to continue. You sat, placing the mug near your phone, sighing. You made your back crack and your fingers as well before keeping on.

You glanced at the clock while your fingers moved over the keyboard, mixing with the sounds that came through your open window. The curtains rocking as the breeze entered your apartment. You took the lid of the mug and blew before taking a sip. The words were right in front of you and while you had managed to write something, you didn’t like it.

After that class with Sebastian, you had written at least ten pages to your upcoming project. You had felt revitalised and willing to sit down and face the blank paper. And it worked. You had typed for hours before having dinner. Your cat had rubbed her head against your leg, meowing in an attempt to catch your attention.

Yet, that energy had started to decrease. You sighed and rubbed your forehead, watching as your phone lightened up. You frowned and took it, unlocking it before you looked for your incoming messages. Alycia, Anna and your mother had written to you. The other chat was a number you didn’t know.

«Hey»

«I forgot to ask you your number so I texted Alycia and…here I am»

«I’m Sebastian, btw»

You snorted at the three emojis with tears as they laughed and hurried to type an answer, resting your feet on the table as your cat observed you, licking her own paw. She meowed again and you frowned.

“What?” Your cat meowed. “It’s rude not to reply, don’t you think?”

Her green eyes kept observing you and you stick out your tongue at her, watching as she laid by your side, her paw touching your ankles. Your fingers moved over the keyboard, typing an answer.

«Hey! Don’t worry. »

«How r u?»

Typing…

«Stressed. And fucking tired. My trainer is killing me.»

You moved your head back as you laughed, shaking your head. You sent him several emojis laughing at him and replied.

«Poor mine»

«No pain, no gain. That’s what happens when you must play The Winter Soldier»

Sebastian replied with the emoji rolling its eyes and you bit your lip, taking a sip of your colder tea, almost forgotten now you were talking to him. The dots moved as he was typing an answer and you waited patiently, petting your cat’s head.

«You owe me a coffee. And we have a project to do, so…»

Sebastian sent the emoji smirking and you rolled your eyes, huffing. You looked at your cat, who was observing you. You chuckled and caressed her neck, hearing her purrs.

“What do you think? Coffee with Sebastian?” She meowed and you typed, nodding.

«There’s a coffee shop in the building where we went to the class. I’ll meet you there in…30?»

«I’ll be there»

Punctual, you found Sebastian waiting for you in one of the tables with a coffee by his side. He was rubbing his hair, curling it with his finger as he looked at his notebook, absent-mindedly. He lifted his head and his face seemed to shine the moment he sees you, standing up to kiss your cheek.

“You’re here”

“Of course. My future as a writer depends on this project” you joked, sitting down by his side, hearing his chuckles. “What were you writing?” you asked, taking off your jacket and placing it on the chair, waiting for the server to come.

“I was just doing a kind-of brainstorming, so we can choose some ideas,” he muttered, biting his lips. “But of course we must talk about this. Lovely shirt” he added, winking at you and you laughed after ordering your chocolate milkshake.

“Thank you” You replied, looking down at it. You were wearing your Bucky Barnes protection squad t-shirt, black with the words in grey. “Someone has to do it”

“Yeah, I can’t stop hearing he’s the villain” Sebastian pressed his lips in a thin line before pouting and you laughed again, caressing his cheeks.

“Poor mine. Now, show me the ideas you had”

Sebastian moved his chair closer to yours, explaining what he had been writing until you had come. He had wonderful ideas and soon, you two were discussing one that, if you wrote it good, it would turn out to be a short novel with plot-twists and breath-taking scenes. You decided one would write two characters and the other one, the two remaining. The novel would have four voices and you were shivering at the amount of work it would take.

“So, your trainer?” you asked after that, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. He had a two-days stubble and you found yourself wondering what would it feel like against your skin.

“Yeah. I swear one day he’ll kill me”

“Drama queen” you replied rolling your eyes and slurping the milkshake with the straw. Soon, you two started to talk about Marvel and Sebastian told you how it had been for him to work in the franchise.

While you listened to him, you discovered you enjoy being in his company. He was charming, funny and was always teasing you in a good way. You thought Sebastian was the kind of person you’d spend hours talking.

“What are you writing now?” He asked and you huffed, smiling at him. Sebastian frowned and chuckled. “What?”

“Well, let’s say I “try” to write. I was having a few good days before I started to get blocked again” you sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, shaking your head. “I try to write other chapters or changing them so the story can go through other ways but I still get blocked in that part”

“May I read it?” Sebastian asked, staring at you and shrugging. “Maybe other person can figure out what’s happening in there”

“I…” you muttered.

You didn’t like people reading what you wrote. You knew it was necessary to have beta readers or at least someone who can point out your mistakes. But for you, it was terrifying. It had been a long journey since you were forced to read one of your stories in your writing class. Since that moment, you participated, but only when you felt like doing it.

“I don’t want to force you, okay? It was just a suggestion”

“I don’t have my laptop here” you blurted as you felt your hands sweating at the idea of him in your small apartment. His lips twitched into a smile and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“We can go, if you want”

His blue eyes were fixed on you and you swallowed hard, nodding and standing up to pay the bill. He tried to stop you but you reminded him of your promise of inviting him. Sebastian lifted his hands and stretched, smiling. Minutes later, you two entered your small apartment.

“It’s nice. Small, intimate and you have good views…And a cat” he said with a strange voice. You looked at him frowning. Sebastian was standing there with his hand covering his mouth. “I have a cat allergy”

You followed his gaze and you found your cat meowing and walking towards him. You opened your mouth and grabbed her, petting her behind her ears.

“Ok, nope, lady. You’re not allowed to be around here today” You locked her in the guests’ room with her food and toys and after you had washed your hands, you went back to the living room, where Sebastian were, sitting behind your desk. “I’m sorry. You should have warned me”

“I didn’t know you had a cat” he replied with a chuckle and stood up. “Just in case, I’ll open the windows”

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I’m fine” He clasped his hands together, taking off his jacket and placing it on the chair, pointing at your laptop. “Show me”

You huffed and went to the desk, leaning against the wood as you turned on the device, writing your password while Sebastian closed his eyes. You found the document and made a gesture with your hands. Sebastian leant and his eyes moved as he read the story. You sat down, trying to stop the nervousness that filled your body. He was the first person that had read the project. Not even Anna or Alycia.

“It’s good. It’s really good” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and he huffed. “I’m serious. You should keep writing” A sound broke the atmosphere and Sebastian took his phone from his pocket, groaning. “I’m sorry. I must go”

“It’s fine” you said as he took his jacket and walked with you to the door.

“Can we meet again? This time, in my apartment. And bring your laptop. I’ll help you with your story. And no cats allowed!”

He kissed your cheek and disappeared, leaving you astonished in the middle of the hall.

“And after that…what?” he said and you huffed, falling on his bed.

“I don’t know. My mind blacks out”

Sebastian had kept his word and he had called you, asking you to meet again. After that, several meetings came and you found yourself enjoying spending time with him. He was a total nerd that could talk with you for hours.

You’ve been working on your project, having the first four chapters written. You were excited, as everything seemed to go smoothly. You could write three pages without stopping. Sebastian and you would fangirl on the phone, insulting each other when there was a non-expected plot twist.

Yet, your story was still halted. The document would look at you reproachfully, shouting at you to write something. At least one word. But nothing came to your mind. Instead, your mind wandered over possible scenarios for the story you were writing with Seb. Ideas, characters, plot twist, everything.

Sebastian moved the laptop and read the last lines again, scratching his jaw, thoughtfully. He closed it and stood up, making a gesture with his hands. You frowned and he sighed, smiling at you.

“C’mon. Stand up”

“What…?” you obeyed but he interrupted you.

“Let’s try something new. Talk aloud. Describe me the situation, the scenario, what is she doing?” He raised his eyebrows and nodded at you, clasping his hands together before placing them on his waist. “At the same time, try to act”

“What the…?” you laughed and he chuckled, shrugging.

“It’s a good way to get into the story. C’mon. I’ll be Matt and you’ll be Charlotte”

“You don’t look like a Matt” he glared at you and you raised your hands, laughing. “Okay, okay! Kidding!”

“What is he doing?”

“He’s sitting on a chair” you answered firmly. Sebastian grabbed one of the chairs he had in the room and sat down, facing you. You closed your eyes and made as he had said. You imagined the situation, the characters.

“And Charlotte?”

“She’s walking towards him…She’s angry” you acted, walking from one side of the room to the other, imagine you were Charlotte. You felt Sebastian’s eyes in your figure, following your movements.

“Now what?”

“She discovers that he’s there. Looks at him…and moves” you walked towards his body. Sebastian’s legs were spread and you between them. His hands moved to your hips and you bit your lip.

“Now?” he whispered and you shook your head.

“I don’t know”

He made  you sit on his knees, his fingers caressing your arms. You shivered and he pressed kiss on your forehead, your jaw and behind your ear. Sebastian stopped there, his hot breath fanning your skin.

“I suppose now they kiss…”

“I don’t write romantic” you muttered and he chuckled, shaking his head. He swallowed hard and smiled, his fingers shaking.

“Well, we’ll have to find out…”

He leant and pressed his plump lips against yours. You closed your eyes, your hands moving to his soft curls, tugging it. He moaned in your mouth and you felt his fingers grapping your hips, pressing your body against his. Your teeth bit his bottom lip and he smiled while kissing you, the tip of his tongue rubbing your mouth. His right hand went to your ass and squeezed it, making you to jolt. He chuckled and moved away to catch his breath, his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure about this?”

You nodded and he stood up with you between his arms. Your legs were around his waist as he placed you carefully on the bed. Your hand tossed the notebooks and pens on the floor and you moved until your head was on the pillows. Sebastian caged you between his arms and pressed a kiss on your nose, making you to laugh.

“I’m not made of glass. I won’t break” he chuckled and his breath hit the skin of your neck, making you to shiver. He pressed a kiss there, biting and licking and you moaned.

“Surely you don’t. But I want to be nice and slow today…” His blue eyes stared at you and Sebastian bit your lip, smiling. “But you won’t escape from what I’ve prepared”

“Oh” you said teasingly, your fingers running over his chest. “So this is not a one-night stand?”

“No! I mean…”he stammered and looked at you. “If you want, of course” You laughed and took advantage of the situation, rolling so you were straddling his hips. Sebastian observed you in awe, his chest rising.

“Invite me to have dinner and I’ll think about it”

“Deal”

You looked at him, smirking and biting your lip, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, playing with it. Sebastian cleared his throat and jiggled, taking deep breaths. You refrain your laughs, watching as he squirmed under your body. His hands moved to your ass and push you so your head was above his.

“C’mon, kitten…Don’t be mean…” You licked your lips and observed as Sebastian followed the path. You chuckled and moved away, taking off your t-shirt and tossing it on the floor. His eyes grew up wider and gasped. “You’re so pretty…so beautiful…”

You undressed him and your nails scratched his chest, red lines on his skin as your mouth kiss, licked and bit his neck, leaving love bites all around. He panted and his hips jerked, meeting yours. You whimpered and smirked.

“Your trainer will ask you tomorrow…” you moved from one side to the other, with the smile still on your lips and he laughed, grabbing your ass.

“Bad kitten…”

His hands went to unclasp your bra, your bared torso displayed to him. His mouth assaulted your breast, licking your hard nipple while his fingers played with the other. You hissed and rolled your hips against him. Sebastian moaned and bit your nipple, making you to shout his name.

“Darling…” he muttered and his hands went over your skin, unzipping your jeans and helping you to step out of them. He rolled and pulled you from your ankles, spreading your legs. Sebastian’s lips peppered kisses over your skin, biting your thigh. You moaned and gripping the sheets. “I want to hear all your beautiful sounds…”

His fingers moved down your panties and rubbed your clit with his thumb, making your body to jerk at the contact. He smiled and touched it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers running over your folds. Your back arched and your mouth opened as you whimpered.

“Seb…”

He smirked and continued touching your clit with his tongue, placing his index finger inside you, pumping in. You writhed and bit the pillow, feeling his hand going over your body to your breasts, playing with your nipple. The room was filled with your moans and the sounds Sebastian was doing. He hummed and your hands went to his hair, tugging it.

“Cum for me, kitten…”

He kept licking and pumping his fingers, curling them inside you, hitting your g-spot. Your legs closed around his head as waves of pleasure hit you. Sebastian kept going until you were a trembling mess. He kissed your thighs while you breathed heavily, caressing his hair. His hand wiped your juices off his mouth.

He leant by your side, kissing your head and caressing your skin until you calmed down. You looked at him, his eyes observing your naked body and your hands went to his belt, unbuckling it. He smiled as he saw you were so eager. He held your hands and cupped your face, rubbing his nose against yours.

“We have plenty of time, kitten…”

His lips kissed you softly, his thumb grazing your skin. You closed your eyes, his hands roaming down his jeans, unbuttoning it. You helped him and his fingers wrapped around his length, stroking it. His lips kissed your neck before moving. Sebastian searched inside his drawer and opened the wrapper, rolling the condom down her length.

“Ready?” he said and you nodded, caressing his cheek. He rubbed the tip along your folds and entered inside you. You gasped and he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “God…”

“Move” you whimpered and he rolled his hips, grabbing your leg with his left hand. Your ankle hit his ass and he jerked his waist, thrusting inside you. Your teeth found his neck and bit his skin, making him to move harder, hitting your g-pot. You cried in pleasure and tugged at his soft brown locks.

“Kitten…” he muttered as he hold his weight on his right arm, his blue eyes fixed on yours. You swallowed and moaned, feeling him inside you. Your hands found his ass and pressed it so his hips were closer to yours. His free hand went to circle your clit and you muttered his name.

“I’m close…” you whimpered, digging your nails on his ass. He licked your nipple and touched your clit harder. The sensation was overwhelming and soon you were feeling that knot inside your stomach, your mouth falling open, not making a sound. “Sebastian!”

“Oh, god!” He groaned and his thrusts became faltering, his body shaking as he came, collapsing on top of you. His breath moved as he tried to calm himself, rolling to the side. He took off the condom, tossing it to the bin and getting into the bed with you.

“So…” you muttered, kissing his shoulder. His arms circling your body and Sebastian pressed a kiss on your temple. “Now what?”

“Well, I hope you got enough inspiration” you chuckled and hit him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes. He laughed and lifted his hands. “Sorry, sorry. Now…”he played with a lock of your hair and touched your nose with his fingertip. “I hope you accept my invitation to have dinner with me”

“Of course. Pizza, Netflix and writing?” You smiled and curled by his side.

“Always, kitten”

[waitforthehurricanrose]

| Margarita - One Shot |

Summary: Bucky goes to get a coffee, this simple action sparks deep and old memories from his past. - One Shot.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (OC)

Words: 2096

A/U: I have to plan four lessons, study for two tests, and instead of doing any of that, I wrote this idea that I had. It’s my first attempt at angst. I don’t know how good it turned out, but I do hope you like it and leave feedback if possible!

Today.

It’s the first day of winter, but the weather had been lowering for weeks now. For Bucky, it felt like every year, the winters were colder and lasted longer. That it’s why he decided to take a detour on his way to the Avengers tower and get a cup coffee.

Something about the barista caught his eyes. Her tall, slender, frame, brown skin and chocolate hair tied up on a bun called for a memory he couldn’t quite reach. A memory of the old days; when his hair was shorter, and the days warmer. He pushed his thoughts aside and gave her his order.

“The first cup of coffee on the first day of winter,” the girl smiled, Bucky’s eyes darted to hers, and beyond, the memories enfolding. him, transporting him to her

December, 1939

His mind wandered all the way back to the forties, right before he enlisted. Like before, he wanted to coffee, he had turned into a new coffee shop that opened in Brooklyn. That’s when he saw her. She was a young girl, Margarita, as he would come to know. Wavy brown hair falling right above her shoulders, matching perfectly with her brown eyes. They smiled and shined as much as she did. After stuttering his order (and surprising himself, he never stuttered,) she said the words smiling ear to ear; “The first cup of coffee, on the first day of winter.”

He fell for her, right then and there, from one second to the other he was enchanted. He took his coffee, skimming her soft hands in the process. His enamored brain was shaken and he couldn’t find the words, he open and closed his mouth a couple of times before racing out of the coffee shop.

The hours passed and Bucky, now cooled down, scolded himself. That girl was unique, and his nerves would not stop him from talking to her. After rehearsing what he would say, he gave himself a reassuring look through the mirror before walking out the door towards the coffee shop.

From all the scenarios he ran through his head, none ended with the girl giggling, calling him a flirt. Thinking he is just pulling her hair, that he doesn’t mean it.

“You’re a flirt!”

“But you’re beautiful,” said Bucky with a breathy smile.

“Well, thank you sir,”  she said, never losing her kind smile, “but I have to attend the other customers now,” she said before turning away to continue taking orders. Bucky stood there breathless for a second before walking away.

December, 1939. The next day.

No girl had ever blown him off before. Then again, no girl before had made him feel the way he was feeling now. And to do it in such a kind way on top of all. Never in his life had he been left so dumbfounded.

Now, that didn’t mean he wasn’t determined.

So when it was close to noon, he entered the coffee shop again. His heart felt like escaping his chest when he saw her. He could still remember the way his hands shook, with an intake of breath he went over her and said hi.

“Well if it isn’t mister flirty boy.”

“Bucky,” he stretched his hand, “can we please talk?” he said holding his breath, not daring to move. He feared that any action would make her think he was joking again. He wasn’t, not in the slightest.

She took a long hard look at him and then at his hand, she gave a mocked sigh and took his hand, “I’m Margarita. My break is in twenty.”

January, 1940. A month later.

She was flatting out invisible wrinkles on her dress with her hands when he came into the the room. He couldn’t help but smile every time he saw her. He stood behind her, wrapping his hands in her waist. He placed a warm kiss in her temple. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Bucky” she smiled, turning around in his arms, “Is the table set? Did you put the mashed potatoes-”

“Everything’s fine,” he said, “don’t worry about it.”

“Is that a yes on you putting the mash potatoes?” She asked and Bucky didn’t reply, “Buck!” she said stepping away, but he didn’t let her go from his arms. “James Buchanan Barnes if you don’t-”

He kissed her, it was simple and too short for his liking, “I’ll do it now,” he said, passing his thumb between her brows, brushing away her frown. “Stop worrying, he will love you.”

“They were about to get me again but he stepped in and, well, the rest is history; we’ve been friends ever since. Brothers, really.”

“Years later and he’s still getting into fights.” said Bucky, to which Steve’s cheeks reddened.

She slapped his arm lightly, “don’t mock him.”

“Well, but it’s true.”

“Okay, then,” she said turning to look at Steve, “You got anything on Bucky you would like to share?”

Steve laughed, “actually you might,” the blonde said, “did you notice how nervous he was when he first met you, because he told me all about it.”

“If I noticed?” Margarita placed a hand in his arm, confiding in him, “honey, he was stuttering.”

“No way!” exclaimed Steve, listening intently.

“Oh, c’mon guys!” Bucky whined, but he wasn’t annoyed at all. The smile crept into his face without being able to stop it. He had his brother, Steve. And he had a girl he loved deeply. His heart danced, warm with love.

February, 1940. Two months later.

Every now and then, when he would feel particularly low, his mind would wonder to this time, and it never failed to warm him with love and nostalgia. The first time, after months of dating, where they shared that experience - a first for her -  and in different way, a first for him. Because before her, he never truly felt his heart beat so fast. It never felt like bursting with so much passion and love.

The way her soft skin felt against his, how the kisses she spread along his jaw and neck spread heatwaves. How she would giggle when she felt the stubble of his beard, and hearing her would make him laugh as well. And even in that moment of passion, the laughter didn’t feel out place.

That was because it wasn’t out place, they were there together, touching, kissing, embracing each other. They fitted together perfectly. He hadn’t fitted with no one before, and it scared him for a minute, making him freeze. That is until he saw her warm skin with shades of brown that reminded him of the sunset, moving against his paler one. He would hear his own name escaping from her lips and all thoughts of fear would evaporate. They would all be gone, and he would hold her tight, loving her until the sunrise came back.

December, 1940. A year later.

A smile of hers could brighten his whole day, hell, even his whole week. A single tear from her could break his heart. Which was why he had been avoiding that moment for two days now. Until then, he had to tell her he had enlisted in the war.

Her usual smile had faded, the brightness of her eyes had simmered down. She lowered her head and he felt like dying. Margarita was in pain and it was because of him.

“Please, doll, say something.”

She raised her head again, looking at him with watery eyes but remained in silence. A second later she threw herself at him, closing her arms around his neck, holding him tight. “You ought to write.”

He let out a shaky breath, holding back tears. She understood. Of course she did, she was perfect, “at every chance I get.”

“You will be safe,” she continued, he only nodded. “Don’t throw yourself at danger. Unless it’s to save Steve.”

“He ain’t going.”

She let go, confused, “You two do everything together. Together until the end of the line, right?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t get accepted.”

She rolled her eyes, “I doubt he’ll give up that easily.”

He laughed, “I doubt that too.”

She took his right hand between in hers, “Bucky,” she said gaining his attention, “You come back to me.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said before kissing her.

“You’re leaving soon, right?” she asked and he said yes, “Then we need to do this now,” she said taking his hand again and leading him out of their apartment.

They ran for blocks under the rain, while holding hands. This last minute idea meant not being prepared beforehand and not getting umbrellas. Bucky could only laugh, she was determined to get to wherever she was taking them. Five blocks later they were entering a small shop, she placed money in the counter and turned to look at Bucky.

“All real soldiers have a photo of their partners with them. Something bout luck,” she explained.

The man took them to where he had the camera installed. Bucky was standing to a side before being dragged by her to the set. “Why should I be in the picture?

“Pictures are printed memories. We should be together,” she explained, “Plus I payed for two copies, one for you, and one for the apartment. Now smile.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

March, 1941. World War II.

He holds a letter in his hand, while holding their picture in the other. His heart leapt with joy every time he received a letter from her. And this one did not failed to bring him joy.

Even when his last letter had been to tell her he would stay longer than anticipated. That he would join Steve - now Captain America - to fight against Nazis. He wrote to apologize for keeping her waiting longer.

“Together until the end of the line, right? You would not be the man I fell in love with if you didn’t go with Steve.

Go, my love, and fight. I’m writing a letter to him as well, he might be bigger now, but he still needs to be careful.

Please take care of eachother.  I’ll count the days until you’re back in my arms.

Yours, Margarita.”

Her words filled him with ease. She was sad, of course. Yet, she understood, she always did.  He looked at the picture of them together before putting it in his pocket and going to get Steve.

In the picture, they were looking at each other when the man took it. Their hair was disheveled as result of running under the rain. Their clothes showed big spots of water.

They looked messy and unkempt, yet their smiles were big, and the way the looked at each other it felt like the love rose from the black and white picture. They had been so happy then, completely unaware that it would be the last time they would see each other.

September, 2016.  Seventy years later.

Bucky Barnes went through many things. He was different now, his hair was longer, he was missing a arm. And for decades, his memories had been taken away from him.

His brother was there now, helping him get back to his feet. Bit by bit, the memories of his past life came back, and with them, the memory of her did too. First came her smile, her eyes, then her whole face, then her voice, and the way she made him feel.

Steve was with him until the end of the line, and he was there with him again, helping him track her down.  

Margarita Ana Alvarez lived to be 94 years old, dying on 2014. She lived a full, happy, live. She set up a bakery that was still running today. She had two children: Janet and James.

Tony Stark’s fancy technology took only days to tracked down and print an old forgotten picture that showed a young couple, they weren’t facing the camera but you could tell they were smiling. And drenched in rainfall.

Bucky Barnes held it in his hands every time he visited her in the Washington Cemetery.

May, 2017. Today.

“Are you okay?”

“Margarita,” he said still coming down from his daze.

“It’s Sara, actually,” the girl said, confused.

Bucky looked at her, his mind coming completely in the present now. The barista - Sara - asked him if he was okay again. He nodded before thanking her for the coffee and walking out to the streets.

He took a big breath before looking around New York and continuing his way towards the tower. He held the coffee cup with both hands.

The winters were definitely colder now.

Permanent tag list: @lucihaspie   @iamwarrenspeace 

[embklitzke]

Original draft - UNSETIC Files: Lost and Found - Chapter 1

At the end of Bering Songs and Silence, Brigid O'Connell makes a fateful phone call--and sets in motion a series of events that neither she nor her new partner, Tim McConaway, can predict.

What follows is the draft of Chapter 1 of Lost and Found, one of the UNSETIC Files.  I'll be releasing the first couple of drafted chapters for free of this project and a couple others with the rest of the drafts appearing as patron-only posts at my Patreon site.  This is early-access, since Lost and Found will be released in ebook and print form once it’s complete and edited.

Lost and Found is a story told from the point of view of Alisa "AJ" McConaway, fledgling mage, anthropologist, and a team leader in UNSETIC's Portal Corps.

I look forward to your feedback.  Happy reading!

Become a Patron!

One

           “I’m getting sick of this bloody dodging bullets bullshit.”

           I choked on a laugh, shaking my head as I met Kate Berkshire’s glower head-on.  “That’s because you’re not getting any better at it.”

           “No, I’m getting worse,” the Irish soldier snapped, then swore, glaring at the medic to her left.  “What was that for?”

           “Stop your bitching,” Joshua Talmadge growled, not looking up from his work on Kate’s left arm.  “You’re lucky it’s just a through and through.  If it was any worse we’d be at U of C Medical trying to explain how you happened to wander in front of a bullet and oh no, please don’t involve the police, there’s no need to report anything it’s just a silly mistake no real harm done as you’re bleeding on a freaking gurney.”

           “I’m sure you could pull it off, Josh,” I said, patting the doctor on the shoulder.  He snorted humorlessly and shook his head.

           “Don’t patronize me, McConaway. You’re ill-suited to it.”

           “I don’t know, I think she’s pretty good at it.” Kate smiled weakly.  “Just a scratch.”

           “You could be bleeding out with your intestines falling out of a hole in your gut and it’d be ‘just a scratch.’”  I grinned as I started to dig around for my cell, which had started vibrating in my back pocket.

           “Popular today, aren’t you?”  Kate waved me away with her good hand as she saw me digging around for my phone.  “Go take it. I’m not going anywhere until the good doctor’s done with me.”

           Don’t recognize that area code.  “It’s probably a wrong number anyway.  I’ll be right back.  Try not to piss off Josh while I’m gone, huh?”  I ducked out of the infirmary and into the hall.  We’d been back in the Portal Corps headquarters in downtown Chicago for maybe fifteen minutes, returned from yet another off-world foray that had probably resulted in more trouble than it was worth.  I glanced down at my phone’s screen again and shook my head as I tapped it and lifted the phone to my ear.  This had better be quick.  I don’t have time to break away from refereeing right now. “This is McConaway.”

           “Hello, Dr. McConaway?  My name is Brigid O’Connell, and I have some news about your brother.”

           My heart stopped.  Brigid O’Connell had been the name of the woman who’d led the search after Tim and Mat had disappeared over the deserts of Iraq.  They’d found Mat’s plane but no trace of him in it.

           That was because something from beyond the boundaries of Earth had kidnapped them both, whisked them off to somewhere far away. Only a few people knew that, though, and almost all of them worked here, worked for the Corps.

           What could she possibly know?  She’s not with the Corps.  I’d know if she was.

           “Doctor?  Are you there?”

           “Of course.  Of course.  I—I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, trying to will my heart to slow down, to force my guts to cooperate. “I’m here.  I—what do you have to tell me, Miss O’Connell?”

           “It’s Lieutenant O’Connell, actually, and...he’s here.”

           “It’s nice to—wait, what?”  This has to be a dream, some kind of hallucination.  I got shot instead of Kate.  That’s it. I’m hallucinating because I’ve lost way too much blood and I’m dreaming this.

           “Here, you talk to her.”

           “What?  Wait a second here—”

           It was his voice, unmistakably my brother.  My heart thudded against my breastbone and every breath was a battle.

           How did he get back?  How is he—where is he?  There was a tremor in my voice as I dared to speak his name.  “Tim?”

           He sighed into the phone.  “Hey AJ.  Are you okay?”

           “No.  No, not okay. Where are you?”

           “Virginia,” he said.  “Alexandria.  Where are you?”

           “Chicago.  Where else would I be?”  I squeezed my eyes shut.  How had he gotten to Virginia without us knowing? Was there another Portal somewhere near there that we didn’t know about?

           Goddammit, there’s too much we don’t know.

           There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask him—chief among them was how the hell he’d ended up in Virginia without our knowing that he was back on Earth.  I couldn’t ask that question over the phone, though, especially not with O’Connell there with him, not without knowing what she might know about him, about what he’d been through.  I squeezed my eyes shut, sagging against the wall.

           “Sis?  You there?”

           “I’m here,” I said, voice coming choked from a throat so tight I could barely breathe.  “Are you safe?”

           “Why wouldn’t I be?”

           I caught a hitch in his voice and shivered.  We both know why—but do you remember that I know, that Kate knows?

           He said that he wouldn’t.  He was going to make himself forget so he could protect us.  Damn it all.

           “Just making sure,” I whispered.  “I...I need to see you.  I need an address.”  Kate would want to come with me.  Scott and Sierra would be expecting a report from us on the last run.  There wouldn’t be time to write one before I—before we—left.

           A thought struck me.  Had they known he was back?  Had he somehow shown up while Kate and I were on a run and they just hadn’t told us?

           No. No, they wouldn’t keep a secret like that from us.  If they tried, it would be a cover up of epic proportions.  Bryn would say something.  There’d be no hesitation.  If she knew, we’d know.  End of story.

           Scott and Sierra couldn’t have known—no one connected to the Corps knew.  That was for certain.

           Tim rattled off an address.  I wrote it on my hand, struggling not to drop my phone as I did. My heart was going three times its normal speed.

           “You’ll be there?”  I asked, my voice still shaking.

           “I don’t know where else I’d go,” he said quietly. “If I’m not there, I’ll be here. Call this number if you need to.”

           “Absolutely,” O’Connell’s voice said in the background. “I’ll help her find you if you’re not already here.”

           “Not like I’ve got anywhere to go,” he said, his voice a little muffled.

           My eyes stung.  You could come here.  You could come home.  I glanced toward the door to the infirmary, biting down hard on my lower lip.  Why hadn’t he come here?  Why hadn’t he come home?

           There must be a good reason.  I’ll find out what it is.

           “I’m coming there,” I said.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  I’ll be there tomorrow, as early as I can.  I promise.  Don’t go anywhere.”

           “I won’t,” he said quietly.  “I’ll see you.”

           “Tim?”

           “Yeah?”

           “I missed you,” I said in a bare whisper.  “We all missed you.  I...I’m glad you’re back.”

           There was a long silence on the other end of the line before he said, “Yeah.  So am I, AJ. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

           “Love you.”

           “I love you, too.  Be careful.”

           He hung up and I stood there in the hall, staring at the wall without actually seeing it in front of me.  My brother was back on Earth.  He was home.

           Why hadn’t anyone told us before now?

           I knuckled my eyes and exhaled a shaky breath, counting to ten before I straightened.  Shoving my phone into my pocket, I headed back into the infirmary, hoping I didn’t look half as shaken as I felt.

           “That was a long wrong number,” Kate said before her gaze met mine.  Then she saw the look on my face and all good-humored teasing evaporated.  Her expression grew serious.  “What’s the matter?”

           I closed the door behind me.  “I just talked to Tim.”

           “Tim?  My Tim?”

           “He’s my Tim, too,” I reminded her.  “He was my Tim first.”

           “Whatever.  You talked to him?  How is that even possible?”

           “Should I be here for this?”  Josh asked, glancing up from Kate’s stitches.  “Because I can go if this is classified six feet above my ass.”

           “It’s not,” I said, even though I wasn’t actually sure of that.  “It’s fine. Just finish up.”

           “He wants me to go get some x-rays,” Kate said with a slight glower.  “Something about getting lucky if I didn’t nick the bone.”

           “I just said it was a good idea,” Josh said. “You told me it hurt more than the last time you got shot and it hurt deep. That means bone or deep tissue damage. Do you want to be safe about this or not?”

           “You’re the one who was moaning about U of C Medical.”

           “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

           “Would you two stop bickering for twenty seconds?” I snapped.  “Kate, I’m driving to Virginia.  I’m driving tonight. Are you coming?”

           “Why—oh.  Is that where he is?”

           “That’s where he said he is.”  My lips thinned.  “How the hell did he get back to Earth without our knowing?”

           Josh frowned.  “Is he one of those ones the Cabal nabbed a few years ago?”

           “Yeah,” Kate said.  “He’s practically the only one we’ve ever had a chance of bringing back, too.”

           I could still hear the pain and regret in her voice when she talked about that missed opportunity, even though it had been the better part of two years ago—two years this coming June.  It wasn’t that it frustrated me any less, but she’d been clinging even tighter to the hope of bringing him home in those few days than I had.

           He’d asked her to keep a promise and I’d never quite been able to bring myself to ask her what that promise was.

           There’s no way that she’s just going to stay here if he’s back, if he’s within reach. There’s no way.  I just stared at her, waiting for the answer I knew was coming.

           She didn’t meet my gaze as she said, “I’ll cover for you. Call your uncle and get going.”

           “You’d bet—what?”              Wait, she’s not coming with me?  “Kate—”

           “Scott and Sierra are going to need a report and I can make it for both of us,” Kate said quietly, finally lifting her eyes to meet mine. There was a familiar pain there, the deep one that I’d seen in snatches and glimpses since the day we’d left my brother on Mydiar.  “I had days with him back then.  You had five minutes.  Go.  Go see him and make sure it’s real.  Make sure we’re not going to lose him again.”

           My throat tightened.

           She doesn’t want to come with me because she’s afraid that it’s not going to last—that we’re going to lose him all over again.

           Truth be told, I was afraid of the same thing, but I had to believe that this time he was back for good.  I didn’t know how he’d managed it, but I was sure as hell going to find out.

           “Are you sure?” I asked.

           “I’m positive.”  Kate glanced down at her knees, shaking her head.  “I’ll fly out tomorrow or the next day.  Call me when you get there and I’ll call you about the flight or...or whatever.  Go call Chris and tell him you’re going out of town and then get going before Scott or Sierra show up and stop you.”

           “It’s going to be a lonely drive,” I whispered.  I was sure she’d come with me.  I didn’t plan on doing this alone.

           “You’ll be fine,” Kate said.  “Go.”

           I shivered, nodding.  This felt far too familiar.  “All right.  I’ll call when I get there.”

           “Drive safe.”

           I gave her and Josh each a tight smile and slipped out into the hall, heart thudding leadenly against my breast.  Kate was right.  I needed to get out of headquarters before Scott Andrews or Sierra O’Rourke caught up with me—otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting out of the city anytime soon.

           I booked for the stairs that would take me up to the rehabbed print shop’s foyer and Printer’s Row beyond.  If I was quick, I’d be able to make it to the L in time to be home before the sun went down.  I needed my car and a couple of changes of clothes from the house.

           It was out of the way, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed the clothes and the least I could do before driving east was let my uncle know that I’d be doing it. He’d come to terms with what I did every day—he knew about half of it, anyhow—but I knew it went hard on him when I was away.

           I was all he had left.  His brother—my father—was dead and the two boys Christopher McConaway had raised alongside me were missing and had been for three years.

           Do I tell him, or do I play the waiting game and spare his heart like Kate’s asking me to spare hers?  My lips thinned as I stepped out into the gloom of a February afternoon in Chicago, grimacing as I realized I’d left my coat downstairs before we’d left on our jaunt beyond the Portal.  It was still hanging on the back of my chair in my office, the one I shared with Carson Matthews, a cultural anthropologist whose father had been one of the ones kidnapped three years ago the same way Tim and Mat had been.  Carson was newer to the Corps, had only been with us six months, but he was catching on fast.

           I shivered in the wind and shook my head as I felt around in my pocket for my keys and found them.  Not going back down there.  If I go back down there, I’m going to get waylaid. There’s no doubt about that.  I’ll just make a run for the station.  I won’t freeze to death if I hurry.

           Sucking in a deep breath, I sprinted for the stairs to the Red Line station a block from where I’d been standing, hoping that my wallet was in the bag I was still carrying from the off-world run and that I hadn’t left it with my coat.

           Too late now.  Already made the run for it.

           I stumbled down the concrete steps and into the warmth of the subway tunnel, already shivering from the late winter chill.  It had been a relatively mild winter here in Chicago, but that didn’t mean it was much warmer than bitter cold—especially not this close to the lakeshore.  I dug around in my bag, hoping to find my wallet and eventually locating it in the deepest, darkest corner of the bag as I made my way to the turnstiles guarding the entry to the train platforms.

           I breathed a sigh of relief as my fingers closed around my car keys and CTA card.  Small favors.  That’s all I can ever ask for.

           I took the train from Harrison and hit my connections—Red Line to Blue all the way to Rosemont where I’d left my car.  Sometimes I took the Metra all the way in and out of the city, but when I didn’t know when I’d be coming home, I liked the convenience of leaving my Jeep closer to downtown rather than at the Metra stations in Barrington or Schaumburg.  I stared out the windows of the train, at the city and at tunnel walls, fingers tapping against my knee in agitated impatience, all the way from the station where I’d gotten on the Blue Line to Rosemont, where my insane life with the Corps and UNSETIC had begun.  It felt like a long time ago.

           How am I going to tell him?  How am I going to break that news?

           I wasn’t sure if I was trying to figure out how to explain this to my uncle, or how I was going to break the news to my brother that our other uncle, our mother’s brother, was dead.  I didn’t know which one would be harder.

           I closed my eyes and sighed.  Dammit.

           The train stopped at Rosemont and I got off, went hunting for my car.  Somewhere between there and home, I’d figure out how I was going to tell Uncle Chris.

           I really didn’t have much choice about that.

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