#so it can’t really just be brushed aside despite how much so ppl want it to be

[lunar-beauty]

stancy fans are rare on reddit, but the few on there are so smart and just really get the ship! here’s one my favorite comment threads of theirs that i randomly remembered today and decided to dig up

[writingmessynaruto]

For the Madara request, could I get some romantic fluff for him?

I'm ace and it's really hard to find things for him that don't get very sexual and I'd love something that does not go beyond pecks you know?

Maybe brushing his hair scene? It's very self indulgence here bc unlike most ppl I headcanon his hair to be very damaged and messy, you don't throw all those fire jutsu with no heat damage you know? Little teasing about that would be nice 💖

No physical preferences, with this you don't need to specifiy gender either, you can keep it as vague as possible so it's more relatable for others too

Thanks so much for the ask! I loved writing something this sweet and affectionate. I hope you enjoy!

{ Curls and Camellia }

Madara x Reader

cw: fluff, hair-combing, romantic affection, pet names, mild cuddling

It was clear Madara didn’t care too much about his appearance around you.

Certainly, he cared enough to impress you, or at least to look presentable. He wouldn’t describe himself as high-maintenance. But you knew better.

Considering he was the clanhead, it sort of baffled you that he didn’t take better care of his hair. His long hair was a symbol of tradition and honor in the clan, and as the clanhead, it was odd that he didn’t seem too interested in upholding that, despite his conviction to his people. After a while, you came to suppose that Madara just had his own way of doing things.

Still, that way had some clumsy side-effects. Fire style jutsus were unforgiving toward everything they touched, and that also sometimes included hair. Madara had no shortage of hair, and because he never took the time to tie it up during combat (something about not “interrupting the flow of chakra”), it could quite easily get fried. On top of that, his hair was wavy, nearly curly, and that made the damage far worse.

You had brought this up before. Even as recently as last week. Though he appreciated your concerns, he didn’t make time to take care of it. So, you had taken the liberty of buying some hair oils.

And, that night, you sprang it upon him.

“I found some rejuvenating oils today.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, not looking up from the scrolls he was studying. You continued.

“If you want, I can work them through your hair while you read.”

He slowly tore his gaze away from the scroll, clearly trying to process two things at once. “My hair?”

You gave him a look. “You’re singed, love.”

“Singed?” He blinked innocently and looked over his shoulder at the ends of his hair. You laughed.

“Yes.”

“Really.” He pulled a handful of hair over his shoulder to inspect closer. You were already approaching with your supplies. As you knelt behind him, he glanced over what all you brought.

“Scissors?” he inquired.

“Some of it can’t be saved.”

Still, he was in disbelief as to how much was damaged. “How much?”

“I’ll see.”

“Not everything, right?”

“No, not everything.”

He nodded as you sorted through the most damaged sections. You snipped off a few chunks and softened the ends. It really was quite a shame he didn’t take better care of this mane. It was the envy of all his clanspeople.

“How bad is it?” He sounded nonchalant. Madara always sounded rather unconcerned about things. It was something he even intended to do. Most of the time, it was convincing. But right now, you could tell he was worrying, even if only a little.

“It’s like the aftermath of a battle.”

You were only teasing. Although he perhaps tried to hide it, you could feel him tense up. You rubbed his back in reassurance, his soft locks bunching effortlessly between your fingers.

“It’s fine,” you whispered, chuckling gently. “It won’t look any different, I promise.” If he didn’t notice the burnt hair, he probably wouldn’t notice the absence of it either.

He sighed with a smile, glancing back at you with that look. He was softer than most people realized. He enjoyed things like this, even though he didn’t take the time to do them himself. And he always had a way of making you feel appreciated. He was so easy to be near. Honestly, it was easy both of you.

You put aside the scissors, exchanging them for the comb. This wasn’t the first time you helped him with his hair, and it wouldn’t be the last. You didn’t mind that one bit. It was clear this felt just as good for him as it did for you.

Once the comb pulled through easily, it was on to the oil. You rubbed some between your hands, inhaling the fragrant smell of camellia.

“Don’t put too much in there,” Madara murmured calmly. “I don’t want to make my hair more flammable than it apparently already is.” Even from this angle, you could see the smile in his cheeks. It was contagious; as you went back to work, a smile adorned your face, too. You almost wanted to hug him. And as you smoothed the oil through his locks, a beautiful sheen began to accent his waves.

“I’ll braid it,” you assured him. “Just to keep the moisture in.” And that would protect the hair from further damage, too, you knew. It was worth another shot to ask him. “If you want, you can keep it in the braid, too. It will help prevent damage.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to do it.” Much more accepting.

“I can braid it before you leave next.” Easy. Your hands started to gather his hair into three thick sections.

“Thank you.” His voice had become even more tender now. Soon, he would likely be getting cuddly, too. He tended to get that way when his voice turned that gentle. For a war-hardened clanhead, he truly was the most gentle person you knew.

Down his back, you continued the braid until the curly ends. Once it was secured, Madara gently pulled the plait it forward to inspect it. It was like draping a thick snake over his shoulder, shiny and black and beautiful. His smile was small, almost bashful. He got like this too whenever you helped him with his hair. He could never quite look you in the eye by the time you finished. It made him go red in the face, and quite speechless.

You didn’t tease him for it. You liked his gentleness. And without a word or a nod, you scooted up next to him and stretched out on the floor. With your head rested on his lap, you could see all his scrolls laid out. Some of them you could faintly read, and others not.

He murmured overhead. “Thank you, my dove.”

When Madara got flustered, he really got flustered. His voice would hardly come out. It only made you smile.

Briefly, you glanced up at him. His hand came down to rest on your shoulder in a gentle caress, but his eyes were still fixated upon his braid. He was perhaps in wonder over how shiny it looked.

You contained a chuckle and relaxed your head again. Closing your eyes, you finally allowed yourself to deeply inhale, filling your nose with the sweet scent of camellia. You wouldn’t mind doing this more often, burnt hair aside. And you had a feeling Madara would make time for this now, even if he didn’t care much about the look of his hair -- perhaps, because, more importantly, it involved you.

Want more personalized (and queer) Madara x Reader?

Read my post and send me an ask!

[ethereousdelirious]

Fandom: The U. mbrella A.cademy

Characters: all the sibs

Pairings: N/A

Tropes: just fluff

Summary: request fill for anon! D.iego gets the flu and it fucks with his powers and he starts freaking out thinking that he's worthless

Warnings/Notes: very short, vague depiction of a character having a mild panic attack

I'm posting from mobile so if the formatting gets fucked up or the post gets cut off, I can't fix it for another like 4 hours give or take

Set in some idealistic Avengers Tower AU (y'know when ppl would write those fics where the Avengers all lived in the tower and would like bro out and actually talk about their problems. Yeah. That, but TUA)

--

When it came to solving problems, Diego Hargreeves tended to beat them into submission with brute force and the liberal application of knives. If he couldn't solve a problem in this manner, he tended to ignore it until it escalated into something he could solve via incredible violence.

Unfortunately, today's problem (inevitably the first of many) was 0% knife-able.

That morning found Diego curled up in bed with a bad case of vertigo and a stinging pain in his throat every time he dared to swallow. He forced himself to get up anyway and had to brace himself against the wall for support as the room spun and his chest began to spasm with the need to cough.

Keeping his wits about him, he stifled the coughing fit behind closed lips. If his siblings found out he was sick, he'd never hear the end of it. They'd think he was weak. That he was useless. After all, Luther never got sick.

The sheer spite made Diego straighten up and get dressed. Fatigue made his joints feel sticky and painful, so he decided to skip his morning workout. Just getting through the day like this would be enough work as it was. He brushed his teeth quickly and decided not to take his temperature-- better to not know. Plausible deniability.

He had to take the stairs at a pace that felt excruciatingly slow compared to his normal light-footed jog. He clung to the banister, painfully aware of the fact that any one of his siblings could pop out onto the landing to witness his pathetic descent. He was just so dizzy and his body ached like he'd spent the night jogging instead of sleeping.

Finally, he reached flat ground and was able to stagger to the kitchen. He wasn't really hungry, but there was no way he was going to skip breakfast and risk losing his hard-earned gains. Besides, maybe he'd feel better after eating.

"You're up early."

Diego jumped and instinctively flung a knife, just barely managing to dampen the force behind his throw as his brain caught up with his body. The knife clattered to the floor, a clumsy, straight trajectory, not at all what Diego had intended. "Hi," he said lamely, not looking at Five.

Five looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Your ninja skills are getting a little rusty."

Diego continued to stare at the knife on the floor. He'd meant for it to curve and stick in one of the cabinets. "Uh, yeah." He bent to pick up the knife and had to pause and steady himself.

"Your Neanderthal impression on the other hand…" Five put his hands on his hips. "Perfection."

"What's got your shorts in a twist?" Diego asked, not really caring about the answer.

Five got up on his tiptoes, reaching for one of the cabinets. Diego nudged him aside with his hip and got a clean mug down for him.

"Thanks," Five said begrudgingly. "And to answer your question, I'm used to having my morning coffee alone."

"Oh." Diego opened the fridge and muffled a short cough into his elbow, trying to relieve some of the aching pressure in his chest. "I can fuck off for a bit. If you want."

"It's fine."

They were quiet for a moment. Diego stared at the contents of the fridge. Something with protein would be good. Eggs sounded like too much work, too much standing. He wanted to sit. Protein shake? Even the thought of making that sounded like far too much work. Sighing, Diego grabbed the milk and poured himself a glass while Five watched in silence.

"You didn't work out this morning," Five said.

"Is that a fact?" Diego shut the fridge and went to the living room.

Five phased in ahead of him and sat down in the chair Diego had been heading for. "Your hair is dry."

"And?" Diego contemplated just sitting down on Five, but didn't think he'd have the energy for the subsequent wrestling match. He threw himself down on the couch instead.

"And, you always shower after your morning workout."

"I'm cutting," Diego lied. "I'm going for a jog later."

"Interesting. Don't care."

Diego sniffled, annoyed to find that his nose was starting to run. "Why'd you bring it up, then?" he asked, looking around for a spare napkin. Finding nothing, he sniffed again.

"Just letting you know: I notice things, so don't try to pull any shit. And blow your damn nose, you sound like a coke addict."

One by one, the rest of the family came down the stairs and joined them in the living room. Diego tried his best to ignore them, trying to figure out what had gone wrong in the kitchen, but it was hard to concentrate when no one would leave him the fuck alone.

He kept having to leave the room to blow his nose and muffle coughs into his shirt collar, and every time he came back, the ambient noise of his siblings' conversations seemed to grow louder and louder.

"What's got you all broody?" Allison asked upon seeing him return from yet another trip to the bathroom.

"I'm not broody," Diego said, at least vindicated that he didn't sound sick.

"He dropped a knife this morning," Five said to her.

This started up a round of ribbing and teasing that chafed at Diego more than usual. His weak attempts at defending himself went ignored until his ears started to roar. He pulled out a knife and threw it at Klaus, intending for it to stick in the chair's armrest, right between his fingers.

It missed by a mile, thudding against the wall and knocking one of the paintings crooked.

Everyone went quiet.

"Uh, Diego?" Luther asked. "Did you mean to do that?"

"Yeah," Diego said, glaring at him. "Fuck that part of the wall in particular." Despite his best efforts, he started to cough. He managed to choke the fit back into something more manageable, but the damage had been done. Everyone was looking at him.

"Are you okay?" Vanya asked meekly, eyes wide.

"I'm fine."

"That didn't sound fine," Luther said. "You sick?"

"You're sick," Diego said, knowing he sounded like a petulant child but unable to bring himself to care.

Allison studied him. "He's shaking" she said to Luther.

"I said I'm fine," Diego said, batting her hand away. "Five, tell them I'm fine."

"He's sick," Five said to Luther.

"Vanya? Klaus?"

"What are we supposed to do?" Klaus asked.

"Back me up!" Diego ran a hand through his hair, dismayed to find that his forehead was a little sweaty. A thrum of fear had started up in his chest, something he couldn't really explain. He was fine, he could still fight. He wasn't useless.

Luther pointed to a discolored spot on the wall. "Prove it."

"What?"

"If you're fine, hit that spot."

"Fine," Diego growled, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his throat. He took out another knife and just held it for a moment. He had to concentrate, that was all. He'd been sick before and it didn't affect his powers. He was just psyching himself out, that was all.

He took a deep breath and threw the knife. It was over in a blink. The knife traveled straight forward, whizzing by Luther's head, and stuck in the wall across from Diego, nowhere near where Luther had pointed.

Diego's head went fuzzy.

He could feel his body shaking, hear his siblings' voices. He caught sentence fragments, words without meanings attached to them.

"Allison, move."

"Get his head."

"How long has he been like this?"

The world tilted, sickening. He fought for breaths, trying to clear his head. What was happening? What if his powers never came back?

"Diego?" Hands on his head, fingers tracing patterns against his scalp.

Diego took several deep breaths. He had been moved so he was on his back, and he was holding himself stiff.

"Look at me," the voice said. Unable to connect it to a face, Diego looked up. He'd been manhandled from seated to a supine position with his head in someone's lap, so he had been expecting to see Luther's face.

Instead, it was Klaus who stared down at him, his expression unreadable.

"Hey," Diego said shakily.

"You okay?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay," Diego said. He was hot all over and his hands were shaking and he couldn't use his fucking powers. "I'm useless." He remembered how they'd all treated Vanya, remembered all the awful, cruel things their dad had said about her, that they had said about her. "I'm fucking useless."

"Hey." Allison appeared in his periphery. "Your powers will come back." She put her hand on his cheek and drew it back in surprise. "Luther, he's burning up."

"You're telling me." Klaus shifted, one hand still gently tangled in Diego's hair. "It's like being trapped under an electric blanket."

"So move," Diego grumbled.

"No."

"Why don't I go get a cold compress?" Vanya said from somewhere down by Diego's feet.

"I got it," Five said. The subsequent flash of blue stabbed into Diego's eyes and made his head ache.

"What am I gonna do?" he said.

"What do you mean?" Luther asked.

"Without my powers, I… I'm nothing."

"Oh, you were serious about that?" Klaus said. "I thought you were just being dramatic."

Diego was too tired to point out the irony of Klaus accusing him of being overdramatic.

Another flash of blue. Five leaned over Allison and, with surprising gentleness, laid a damp washcloth over Diego's brow. "You're not useless," he said. "In fact, out of all of us, you might just be the most powerful without the help of spooky extraordinary powers."

"Yeah, right." Diego brought up one hand and coughed into his wrist, prompting a quiet "eewww" from Klaus.

"No, he's right," Vanya said. "You work your ass off every day. Even if you really did lose your powers, you'd still be a badass killing machine."

"And you're the only one of us who kept doing heroics after leaving," Allison said. Luther made a noise of protest followed by a grunt, presumably after Allison nudged him in the side.

"You guys… Do you really think so?" Diego asked. Despite the pep talk, he still couldn't really picture himself without his powers. Without them, he wasn't himself. "I feel like… I mean, what's the point of me if I can't use my powers?"

"Lots of things," Klaus said. "I'm pretty sure you're singlehandedly propping up the leather industry in the US."

"You're a good person," Allison said firmly. "And there's more than one way to help people." Pointedly, she added, "Isn't that right, Luther?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah," Luther said. He sighed. "I really do admire you, Diego. You're so obsessed with saving people it's almost pathological." He chuckled. "I mean… Your biggest character flaw is that you literally care too much. Not many people can say that. You're a hero no matter what."

"Besides," said Five. "Your powers will come back." It's probably just the fever that's screwing with them, same way it's screwing with your emotions and making you all vulnerable and adorable."

"Oh," Diego said thoughtfully. "Shit." He rolled over onto his side and started to cough, finally letting loose what he had been stifling all morning. He curled his head down and did his best to breathe through the spasms that tore through his chest and seemed to rip his throat open until everything from his ribs to his head was on fire.

"Please don't die in my lap," Klaus said. "I don't think I could handle the trauma."

"God, I feel like shit " Diego said, his face buried in Klaus' shirt.

"That tickles," Klaus said.

"Have you taken any medicine, Diego?" Vanya asked.

"No," Diego said.

Klaus wriggled. "Diego, seriously!"

Sighing, Diego rolled over again to face his siblings. "I haven't taken anything."

"Or eaten anything," Five added. 

"M'tired," Diego mumbled. The proximity to Klaus' body heat was overwhelming next to the fever simmering under his skin. He wanted to get up and crawl into bed, preferably naked, and sleep. He was in no mood to lie here and listen to siblings squabble over medications. He sat up, prompting a chorus of protests from his siblings.

Luther planted a hand square in the middle of Diego's chest. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"Going to bed," Diego said, anger flaring up at the thought of Luther trying to push him around. He swiped Luther's hand away and got to his feet, pleasantly surprised when he didn't immediately collapse back onto the couch.

"I'll help you up the stairs," Luther said.

Diego stepped away from him. "The hell you will."

"You're not going alone," Luther shot back.

"Guys." Vanya stepped between them. "I'll go with him."

"You gonna tuck me in, too?" Diego scoffed and started to walk away. Vanya matched pace with him but didn't touch him. "Thanks, Vanya," Diego said when they were out of earshot of the others.

She shrugged. "You're just sick, it's not like you need to be babied."

They took the stairs slowly, with frequent breaks so Diego could catch his breath. "I just hate feeling like this," he said.

"I know." Vanya smiled sadly. "It's so ugly and… It just makes you feel so small."

They reached Diego's room. He pushed the door open and got into bed without bothering to take off any of his clothes. "Vanya," he started, unsure of where to go with him the rest of the sentence.

"I should go get the others," she said, hovering by the doorway. "Before they kill each other arguing about, I don't know, Aleve versus Advil."

"Vanya," Diego said again. "I, um. I want to teach you how to fight."

"What?" She looked at him, baffled.

"I know you don't really need it, I just… It's something I want to do."

She smiled, an actual, genuine smile. "I think I'd like that."

"Good."

"Do you want anything to eat?" Vanya asked. "Allison is probably going to make soup, but if there's anything you want in the meantime..?"

"I don't know." Diego leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "Water would be great."

"Don't go to sleep yet," Vanya said. "I'm sure Five will be here with medicine any second now."

"Yeah, yeah." Diego waved a hand.

Vanya laughed quietly. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"Thank you, Vanya." Her footsteps faded away and Diego sighed.

Maybe it was time to drop the lone wolf thing and start embracing life as a pack member.

[nvrcixv]

a narcissa black intro post

( milena tscharntke, eighteen, cis-female ) my goodness, is NARCISSA BLACK back? it’s been a while since the PUREBLOOD has been around the castle, but I’d recognize HER anywhere. rumor has it the FIFTH YEAR spent the years aligned with the NEUTRALS. but I hear they’re still DUTIFUL & ELEGANT and SEVERE & CONTRADICTORY. and the SLYTHERIN still reminds me of a mist of overwhelming perfume, the gentle clatter of fine dishes breaking a tense silence, the awed quiet that fills every corner of a museum, a lump catching in a dry throat, an ornate frame distracting from a dark themed painting, and lips plump with an unnatural red. well, then, I guess some things never change.

hey,  hey,  you guys! i’m alex and i’ll be bringing narcissa here. i’ve been rping on tumblr for a long time, marauders era has always been my favorite.  i have a lot of passion for strong, bad bitches, they’re my jam. so i’m excited to play ice queen narcissa. i’m down for all sorts of plots, especially stuff that springs up organically. mostly because i’m a terrible, disorganized mess of a planner. i’m a bartender, so weekends can get busy for me, but lbr i’m always lurking on mobile.

you can contact me on here in those dms, or my discord is @ alex //#7484

character inspiration: sansa stark (got), eleanor young / astrid leong-teo (crazy rich asians), amy march (little women)

check out her ( pinterest )

whelve: (v.) to bury something deep; to hide

the positive (+): dutiful, elegant, meticulous, thoughtful, subtle, self-assured, immovable, proud, practical

the negative (-): severe, contradictory, deceitful, vengeful, cold, bitter, haughty, petty, narcissitic

aesthetic inspiration: a mist of overwhelming perfume; the gentle clatter of fine dishes breaking a tense silence; the awed quiet that fills every corner of a museum; a lump catching in a dry throat; an ornate frame distracting from a dark themed painting; lips plump with an unnatural red; the gentle clink of pearls; lipstick smudged on the lip of a teacup; thickly gilded frames; delicate fingers brushing aside wisps of hair; pointed heels abandoned at the bottom of a staircase; forced laughter through painted lips; a paintbrush gliding over a crisp canvas; skirts skating over cream-colored thighs; half filled decanters; a thorn pricking an unsuspecting fingertip; the slow build of a concerto; hedges cut to blunt perfection

your girl’s eyeliner is sharp as knives, lips red as bluuud, nails filed to perfection, heart cold, and her smile sweet enough to eat.

you’ve heard it before, narcissa is stone cold. the world could be tumbling around her and this blonde would remain  unshaken.  she is a proud and stalwart figure in the face of chaos. she’s rather good in a crisis, she has to be with a family like her’s and in these dark days. many imagine her to be weak, a simple creature meant for beautiful things. the wilting flower of the black family tree. at one time she might have been, but those who know her properly know her to be someone to look towards in uncertainty.

but she is also a hopeless romantic gone to rot. she is distant, as untouchable as a masterpiece in the museum that is her picture perfect life. a thing more suitable for admiration than intimacy. she is cold, stoic, and strong, but also lonely.

there is a feeling that no matter your connection to narcissa, that no matter your efforts, there is always something hidden within that she is keeping to herself. and it’s true. there is nothing narcissa would willingly show that she didn’t want people to see.

she insecure and stressed about public image like that.

she is also haughty.  

if there’s anything her cousin has taught her, to bloom is to die. she pictures his  escape   and subsequent increase in happiness to be the height of abandonment, of betrayal. how dare he go one to enjoy things without her! how dare he leave. how dare he leave her wanting and missing and heartbroken. she truly misses him and yet goes to great lengths to never reveal her secrets, instead giving her true feelings the form of petty anger and feigned indifference.

the family she’d been proud to be a member of, is crumbling to ash with this war. but if anyone were to care enough to ask, she is grateful for her lot in life. a smile always quick to slide into place, polished and content for the pre-destined plan.

with her current family a shambles, she is afraid to even think of putting together a new family, the arranged marriage in her future is as terrifying as it is inevitable. she feels as though she will lose everything, her family name, the constant presence of her sisters, and her childhood.  it feels like a demotion in title and status after all the notoriety that comes with being a  black.  not to mention her own parents suffering remains fresh as a wound, she can’t imagine she shall ever be happy. why should she be?  indoctrinated as she is, she has eyes.  everything she has witnessed could never be called ideal, as much as it was framed that way. while hope is not her strong suit, narcissa is very capable of love

it’s not often used to describe her, but narcissa is rather selfless and giving towards her loved ones. it’s a redeeming quality that is almost enough to counteract her many failings as a more acceptable version of a kind person. she does, in fact, love and wants to be loved in return.

her removal from hogwarts had been a frightening prospect, as it put a big wrench in the plans that had been set out for her. she was too young and with her education incomplete all meant she was able to put off her marital duties off for the time being

with the last two years open to her, narcissa was quick to move to france to study abroad at beauxbatons. the move was good for her. freeing. the separation from her family allowed the growth of some independence and the fostering of her own interests. she was fully immersed in paris’ culture, language, food, and beauty.

as a lover of  all things immaculate, a seeker of perfection, narcissa is enamored with art. she already has amassed a collection that could rival the lourve, and often travels to find new additions. it’s a lifestyle only the sickeningly wealthy could afford. the high art, port wine and lavish hotels in distant locations are her own form of escape. the one bright spot in the dreariness that the war has driven all of london into. but “a golden cage is still a cage” and her happiness often fades the moment it comes

she’s an amateur painter herself, talented and content with the process of painting the perfect picture, figuratively and literally. but this is a secret ambition. the act unsuitable and beneath a lady such as herself. there is too much mess. stains, dyed fingertips and an acrid smell. as beautiful as the end result might be, her parents would surely disapprove of the mess she’d make to get there. so like everything else, she hides the messy parts away. it’s not much of a rebellion, but it’s as much as she’s capable of at the moment. her family just means more to her than what she sees as selfish wants rather than the productive creativity and voice to her thoughts that she really needs.

tw child abuse: her childhood was as fraught with abuse as the next black. intelligence was punishable, sharp wit was always met with a slap to rattle her teeth.

her worth was reduced to image and status from the beginning. the cruel parenting taught her to close her lips and open her eyes more. she is observant, and thoughtful. her taste impeccable and judgement rather quick.

narcissa is both good and bad in many ways. love to hate or hate to love her, she’s an anti-villian

tl;dr; narcissa a bitch but like?? the kind you would be begging to step on you

connections:

girl gang – give her all the best friends. the nicole to her paris. soul sisters. ovaries before brovaries. hymen heroines. those hoes she lives and breathes for. i think typically this would be fellow slytherins or ppl that she met through pureblood high society connections. OPEN  

ex-boyfriend/girlfriend – ew this makes me sad and emotions are hard to deAL. basically this will be all angst city. most likely narcissa would be the one to break things off since she usually caves to that familial pressure. depending on how their relationship was, she could regret it or be cold about it. or maybe they were using her? i could see either ( or both! gasp ) working. OPEN

rival/frenemies – these two are just too similar to get along. toxic pureblood society has pitted them against each other and no one is winning. okay but if they went from enemies, to reluctant respect, to almost friends?? MAYBE EVEN FRIENDS EVENTUALLY?? i would be here for it asdlk  OPEN

confidante – narcissa isn’t honest with anyone, not even herself. but this could be someone that she’s probably known for a long time who she possibly could’ve opened up to in a weak moment and now they’re bonded forever. she would feel indebted to this person for keeping her secrets and would do her best to protect them any way that she could. extra feelings if this person feels the same way and they can be sad, but also cLOSE, together. OPEN

secret school friend – maybe they were forced partners as prefects or a fateful potions class but narcissa found herself making a surprising friend in an unexpected place. they spoke for years and she couldn’t help admiring their persistence despite her reluctance and occasional snobbery. but now they’re older and she really should cut things off. for whatever reason, she just can’t let go. OPEN

banter partner – alright so this would be someone from the other side of the war that narcissa runs into all the time and they always seem to get into arguments! she’s not quite sure why they get under her skin but narcissa finds it difficult to step away from their confrontations. OPEN

muse – listennnn. this person would be someone that narcissa would just be enamored with, she would regard them very highly and make efforts to speak with them and be around them. if this person were on the other side of the war she would probably resent them a little but be unable to resist.  i’ll probably just spring this on somebody tbh?? since the relationship would be based on her own tastes. but this would be someone that narcissa would admire for their appearance– sure, but also for the aura that they project.

but yes!! promo over, thanks for reading loves! can’t wait to write with you all!

[stvrbvrn]

ａｎ　ａｎｄｒｏｍｅｄａ　ｉｎｔｒｏ－ｐｏｓｔ

* ╰   zoey deutch  ;  17 ;  she/her  —— wow, andromeda black sure has changed. i guess she is feeling isolated from the other slytherin members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so  independent  &  steely  now they just seem  secretive  & cynical.  guess being a pureblood  isn’t helping matters much either.  i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine.  

you can contact me on here in those dms, or my discord is @ alex //#7484

character inspiration: sansa stark (got), astrid leong-teo (crazy rich asians), aphrodite (greek myth)

pinterest

whelve: (v) to bury something deep, to hide

she’s a warm laugh on a cold morning ; the flick of a wrist ;  the gentle clink of pearls ; lipstick smudged on the lip of a glass ; an empty, echoing hall in a museum ; fresh mists of expensive perfume ; delicate fingers brushing aside wisps of hair ; pointed heels abandoned at the bottom of a staircase ;  half filled decanters ; a thorn pricking an unsuspecting fingertip ; the slow build of a concerto ; the slam of a heavy door

so this is my girl, my lovely queennnnn

living the high life and hating every moment of it

she can’t find it in her to burn as fiery as bella’s strength or run as cold as cissa’s icy resilience. she is a shadow, a hazy mirror of each sister. similar and yet pale in comparison. 

she has always been lukewarm, tepid, medium, her life a long and distressing line of just fine. thank u very much. even as her deepest secrets, dreams, and thoughts boil and bubble beneath the surface of a superficially perfect life.

if anyone were to care enough to ask, she is grateful for her lot in life. a smile always quick to slide into place, polished and content for the pre-destined plan. with her current family a shambles, she is afraid to even think of putting together a new family, the arranged marriage in her future is as terrifying as it is inevitable. she feels as though she will lose everything, her family name, the constant presence of her sisters, and her childhood.  her hesitation and dread surely caused by a demotion in title and status after all the notoriety that comes with being a  black.  surely nothing else more sinister and horribly selfish.

she can’t imagine she shall ever be happy. why should she be?  indoctrinated as she is, she has eyes.  everything she has witnessed could never be called ideal, as much as it was framed that way. warmth never lived in her mother or father’s heart for her. she sees and knows it, even as she struggled for some glimpse of approval that never came. what is it that they see that she didn’t want them to, something weak and dissatisfied and miserable. but then maybe she simply wasn’t looking hard enough. maybe the next time she blinks she will see something new in their gaze that will assuage the building gap.

the finer things enamor her, and not just the beauty of a delicate fabrics and rich color of wine but also art, history, music. each note and brush stroke a promise that there is something out there. something even better than what she silently resents. if only she were brave enough to seek it

an escapist in all facets, andromeda consumes and absorbs the things around her like a sponge, in search of something. anything to fill a space inside her chest that only widens and yawns at her efforts. she lacks for nothing and often balks at her own greed and dissatisfaction. but  “a golden cage is still a cage”  each small glimmer of happiness fading the moment it comes

andromeda is an observer. her eyes opened and lips tightly sealed. she sees and dangerously pieces together her own understanding rather than swallow the bitter pill handed to her. she sees and in some cases, judges.

her friends call her dro, or they would if she had any. jkjk she has friends at varying levels of trust. she could never quite commit to complete isolation, her observations fascinating enough to draw her into the fray. her small collection of those she enjoys betraying a weakness in her incredulity. (also bring on any other nicknames that that monstrosity of a name brings to mind. she’ll most likely pretend to hate all of them)

beneath her doubt, her fear of the unknown. she is a hopeless romantic gone to rot. she is distant, as untouchable as a masterpiece in the museum that is her picture perfect life. a thing more suitable for admiration than intimacy.

there is a feeling that no matter your connection to andromeda, that no matter your efforts, there is always something hidden within that she is keeping to herself. and it’s true. there is nothing andromeda would willingly show that she didn’t want people to see.

difficult to reach, to understand. she prefers it this way. guilt and shame shoving down the better parts of her self beneath the mask she is meant to be. the her that her parents beat her into, beat into all three of them with varying success. 

while it’s true she is haughty.  impatient. a temperamental  black.  a life of pampering and promises forever ingrained in her world view. while good for her self-worth, it is probably off putting to some. there are at times promises of goodness, she can be thoughtful. intelligent. even driven to empathy when faced with tears, pain calling out to something inside her. 

but if there’s anything her family’s mutilated tree has taught her, to bloom is to die. she pictures his escape  and subsequent increase in happiness to be the height of abandonment, of betrayal. how dare he leave (without her). how dare he leave her wanting and missing and heartbroken. she truly misses sirius and her head spins, chest aching and eyes burning at the thought of him. yet as always, she goes to great lengths to never reveal her secrets, instead giving her true feelings no form. buried while she looks on in envy and deeply buried hope. the boy thoughtlessly laying a path towards something selfish but impossibly enticing.

while hope is not her strong suit, andromeda is (to her great chagrin and misery) capable of extreme and consuming love. love of beauty and things. love for her sisters. but also her cousin. but mostly,  herself.  loyalties warring in her heart and tearing at a shaky resolve. at this rate, were someone else to steal one of the splintered, scattering pieces in her chest, it would be the end. the final straw for her unhappiness to be complete.

connections:

girl gang – give her all the best friends. the nicole to her paris. soul sisters. ovaries before brovaries. hymen heroines. those hoes she lives and breathes for. i think typically this would be fellow slytherins or ppl that she met through pureblood high society connections. OPEN  

ex-boyfriend/girlfriend – ew this makes me sad and emotions are hard to deAL. basically this will be all angst city. most likely andromeda would be the one to break things off since she wasnt always as skeptical of that familial pressure. depending on how their relationship was, she could regret it or be cold about it.  OPEN

rival/frenemies – these two are just too similar to get along. toxic pureblood society has pitted them against each other and no one is winning. okay but if they went from enemies, to reluctant respect, to almost friends?? MAYBE EVEN FRIENDS EVENTUALLY?? i would be here for it asdlk  OPEN

confidante – andromeda isn’t honest with anyone, not even herself. but this could be someone that she’s probably known for a long time who she possibly could’ve opened up to in a weak moment and now they’re bonded forever. she would feel indebted to this person for keeping her secrets and would do her best to protect them any way that she could. extra feelings if this person feels the same way and they can be sad, but also cLOSE, together. OPEN

secret school friend – maybe they were forced partners as prefects or a fateful potions class but andromeda found herself making a surprising friend in an unexpected place. she can’t help admiring their beautiful inner persistence/strength despite her reluctance and occasional snobbery. but now they’re older and she really should cut things off. for whatever reason, she just can’t let go. OPEN

banter partner – alright so this would be someone from the other side of the war that andromeda runs into all the time and they always seem to get into arguments! she’s not quite sure why they get under her skin but andromeda finds it difficult to step away from their confrontations. OPEN

muse – listennnn. this person would be someone that andromeda would just be enamored with, she would regard them very highly and make efforts to speak with them and be around them. if this person were on the other side of the war she would probably resent them a little but be unable to resist.  i’ll probably just spring this on somebody tbh?? since the relationship would be based on her own tastes. but this would be someone that andromeda would admire for their appearance– sure, but also for the aura that they project.

but yes!! msg me if you’d like to plot and i’m honestly open to any connections!! her past is pretty open ended and she hasn’t quite left her family just yet so she could have loyalties all over the place

[jimlingss]

Ghost Messenger

Words: 11.8k Genre: Fluff, Angst Read more at Service Series

8:34 am. Y/N: I hope you have a really great day today! Remember to eat and don’t overwork yourself! If you need anything, I’m just a simple text away! :)

8:45 am. Hyunwoo: Yup.

Namjoon smacks his head on his desk, his phone falling through his fingers and onto the wooden surface. He begins to feel his throat tighten from guilt but he suppresses it, inhaling a large breath as he sits up. He shifts the phone aside and opens the file folder, pages and pages of old text messages printed out in front of him. Before noon today, Namjoon has to read all of them and find out the client, Hyunwoo’s, texting habits and mannerisms in order to mimic.

8:34 am. Y/N: I hope you have a good day today too! I know you’re probably really busy today so don’t worry about giving me a call. I’m doing fine here. Good luck on your meeting with the shareholders! Dad mentioned it yesterday so I just wanted to wish you luck. :)

Namjoon can’t fathom how you manage to send a text every single day at the exact same time. What he also doesn’t understand is how your fiancé can consider it annoying or clingy. If anything it’s kind of swee- ding!

8:36 am. Y/N: And 8:36 am. Y/N: I love you. 8:36 am. Y/N: forgot to say it.

As if the previous message of encouragement wasn’t enough, now you're tugging at his heartstrings and making him practically choke over his guilt. Usually the people he texted back were accusational, overly attached and always interrogating him on where he was, what he was doing, why he wasn’t replying fast enough but you didn’t do any of that.

Namjoon physically smacks his head on his desk once more before straightening up in his cubicle. Giving you a lengthy response certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone, now would it? It might be a bit out of the ordinary with your fiancé’s usually texting habits but Namjoon doesn’t care.

‘Thanks sweetheart’. The pad of his thumbs are typing on the keyboard and he nods to himself. Good, your fiancé often uses that term of endearment, despite it’s typical usage as a method to get what he wants like when he’s asking for a favour to be done or apologizing for not finishing a chore. ‘I really miss you too-’. He backtracks, erasing the entire sentence as Hyunwoo has never said that before. It takes a minute or two before Namjoon is able to construct a believable text and he works fast, not wanting to leave you waiting; even though your actual fiancé usually doesn’t even answer your messages.

8:41 am. Hyunwoo: Thanks sweetheart. Meetings with bunch of important ppl. Cant talk.

Namjoon’s work phone drops to the desk again and he sighs. Well...at least the reply is a lot better than the usual ‘yup’.

For the lazy. For the wealthy. For anyone who suffers from a clingy significant other, all your problems can be solved today!

With Ghost Messenger, we’ll set up someone to answer your text messages for you! We look at your previous records, following your texting patterns in order to be indetectable! Never again will you have to suffer with messages blowing up your phone or arguments about never answering! We take care of everything for you! Ghost Messenger, your ghost for your texts.

Working at Ghost Messenger isn’t a job that you can clock in and clock out of. Sure, he has to come into work and stay in his cubicle to fill out progress reports; leave at a certain time like everyone else but text messages are constantly being received and sent all day long. Sometimes the client’s significant other stays up past midnight to text, others text earlier and expect to hear from them immediately. It’s a tiresome job, one that makes Namjoon have to leave his work phone permanently in his pocket and on the loudest setting. But it pays well and often times than not, he only has two or three clients at once. It’s manageable and pays well.

Namjoon’s walking across the street with his hands in his pockets and his hood up. The evening sun is beginning to trickle it’s orange light over the horizon and his stomach is grumbling tirelessly. He can do a lot of things but one of the things he can’t do is cook. His New Year’s resolution was to get back into the kitchen more often but after chewing on his inedible, burnt meat and nearly burning his apartment down twice, he gave up for the sake of bettering humanity. As hungry as he often is, Namjoon has no choice but to grab a slice of pizza down at the little hole in the wall shop. He’d probably take it out...go home….maybe eat while surfing channels on his tv….

With a long sigh, he steps out onto the crosswalk and just then his work phon- dings!  

6:21 pm. Y/N: How was work? 6:22 pm. Y/N: I miss you.

Without realizing, his lips raises into a grin, making deep dimples appear on each side of his cheek. Sure, the message isn’t meant for him but when he’s the one who has to reply, it’s as if you’re asking him directly and no one else. In Namjoon’s lonely world, your simple text brings tears to his eyes and gives him a breath of fresh ai- Beep! Beep!

“CAN YOU GET OFF THE ROAD?! GOD SOME PEOPLE ARE CRAZY! MOVE!” A man pops his head out his car window and Namjoon realizes that he had froze on the crosswalk.

“Sorry!” He shouts, lowering his head in embarrassment and jogging to the other side.

6:27 pm. Hyunwoo: Work was good 6:27 pm. Hyunwoo: miss you too. 6:28 pm. Hyunwoo: wish you were here.

//

Good morning and goodnight texts aren’t out of the ordinary but hearing from you never fails to put a tiny smile on Namjoon’s face and his eyes always instantly brightens. He’s dealt with catty client’s significant others before, foul mouths and relentless insults, being questioned to the point where he dreamt of being a criminal in a police station. But your words are only full of sweet words of encouragement and it’s honestly the best thing to start his day with.

7:00 am. Y/N: Morning!

7:09 am. Hyunwoo: morning

7:11 am. Y/N: Are you already at work?

Namjoon yawns and stretches, rolling out of his covers and standing up to crack his back. He has a full hour to brush his teeth and hair, get dressed and head over to the coffee shop to grab breakfast before he sits in his cubicle again for the day.  

7:12 am. Hyunwoo: Getting ready.

7:12 am. Y/N: huh. 7:12 am. Y/N: aren’t you an hour ahead of me?

With the phone held tight in his hand, he stares at the message over and over again. Did he just make the biggest mistake of all time? In the early morning, it completely slipped Namjoon’s mind that your fiancé was living abroad and that he was indeed, an hour ahead of everyone else here.

Namjoon puts a hand to his forehead, pacing around his room for a second before hastily replying back.

7:13 am. Hyunwoo: slept in late.

7:13 am. Y/N: oh okay. Don’t overwork yourself!

He sighs, a wave of relief from just having dodged a bullet. He reminds himself not to get too out of control - you’re his client’s fiancée and he’s just an office worker with a strange job. He hasn’t even met you yet. He shouldn’t take your messages to heart either.

//

Your texts aren’t that difficult to respond to. Namjoon uses the cookie cutter answers that your fiancé frequently uses and you don’t even notice when they’ve been used multiple times before, that or you do know and haven’t said anything. Whatever the case, you seem to understand and you end up leaving him in peace.

It’s not like this is the way Namjoon wants to treat you but it’s the easiest and the normal way the both of you are used to.

What isn’t normal is when the phone suddenly begins to- Ring. Ring. Ringggg.

The phone vibrates on the wood of his desk, each ring getting longer and longer. He panics for a second before switching to his computer and opening the application. With the company he works at, they’re prepared for every scenario and every circumstance. It takes less than twenty seconds before Namjoon finds the file, picking up the call and playing an automated message from your fiancé.

“Hey sweetheart. I’m off in a meeting right now. If there’s anything wrong, leave me a text. Gotta run.”

A voice unfamiliar to Namjoon’s ear plays and then he hangs up in a flash. Hyunwoo at least had the decency to record five different messages in advance but it was all part of the contract’s requirement and certainly didn’t make Namjoon feel any less guilty. He doesn’t know why. He’s worked with a number of clients before but this is the first time that it feels just utterly...wrong..

1:26 pm. Y/N: sorry. nothing’s wrong. 1:27 pm. Y/N: sorry.

Your apologies make him feel even worse. And there’s nothing he can do.

//

A whole week has passed ever since he’s started messaging you and it’s going perfectly. You haven’t suspected a thing and day by day, Namjoon is texting you more and more. A drastic change can be easily detectable but a slow change isn’t. Instead of one worded responses and being forced to ignore your messages, now he’s able to reply quicker and longer - it’s easing his heart too.

3:58 pm. Y/N: Are you busy?

3:58 pm. Hyunwoo: no. 3:58 pm. Hyunwoo: not really.

3:59 pm. Y/N: good 3:59 pm. Y/N: i’m out shopping. 3:59 pm. Y/N: want to tell me what you think?

Yes. The thought snaps into his mind, his chest beats with anticipation and Namjoon holds the phone closer to his face. He’s not a pervert that wants to use you in the change rooms or your exposed pictures. He just wants to see...you.

Namjoon has tried to envision countless times what you look like, the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes. His imagination has run wild but the entire time, you’ve been but a distant silhouette standing on the horizon in the dusk light, face a blank canvas and blurred. You’re simply someone on the other side of the screen and god knows where under the sky. He wonders if you’re as kind and gentle, as beautiful as the way you seem to be.

He doesn’t know who you are but never has he wanted to know so much.  

4:01 pm. Hyunwoo: sure

4:03 pm. Y/N: [image.jpg] 4:03 pm. Y/N: [image.jpg]

Ghost Messenger is no stranger to sexting and neither is Namjoon. He’s had a few clients that have been rather risqué but he dealt it with like how everyone else in his office. Depending on the contract and the client’s decision, it was decided if he could participate in it or not. Participation didn’t mean that he could drop his pants and take a few pics of himself to send. It meant that he could encourage the client’s significant other but if the contract said otherwise, he would only have to simply type ‘sorry babe. not right now. i’ll make it up to you later’.

But this wasn’t even the case. Yet Namjoon doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous as he taps onto the photos and it downloads into his work phone.

In the next second, it’s downloaded and the picture shows up on screen. Namjoon’s breath hitches as his eyes wander to the mirror you snapped that reflects the dress that’s on your body. The first photo is of you wearing a black body con dress, cutting off at the lower half of your thighs and the other is of a red dress with a sweetheart neckline and a pleated skirt. You’re beautiful but he can’t help feeling disappointed that he can’t see your eyes, the photo being cut off at your neck.

4:05 pm. Y/N: is it that bad?

4:05 pm. Hyunwoo: what are you talking about? 4:06 pm. Hyunwoo: it’s amazing. you look beautiful.

4:06 pm. Y/N: don’t you think my legs look a bit too...idk.

4:06 pm. Hyunwoo: no. god no.   4:07 pm. Hyunwoo: you look amazing.  4:07 pm. Hyunwoo: beautiful. 4:07 pm. Hyunwoo: I think you really look beautiful in both dresses.

Namjoon knows he should keep the replies short and sweet - it’s how your fiancé usually messages you but he can’t help it. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve to know that you look gorgeous, the flaws that you’re worried about are non-existent.

4:08 pm. Y/N: why are you so nice today?

He imagines you holding your phone in one hand and your other hand pressed against your blushing cheek. He imagines how you’re just pacing around the small change room, twirling around in the mirror a few times with a smile plastered on your face.

4:09 pm. Y/N: well? 4:09 pm. Y/N: which dress?

4:09 pm. Hyunwoo: both.

The simple answer spills a giggle from your lips, somewhere far from Namjoon’s office building and in a change room by yourself. Your heart swells as you get back into your regular clothes, taking both dresses and you pay with a big grin on your face. Hyunwoo isn’t usually generous with his compliments or affection in real life or in text messages - only when he wants something from you. But with his sudden attention, you can’t lie that it makes you feel incredibly happy.

Little do you know that it’s not really your fiancé but a man who cares much more, despite not knowing you.

For the rest of the shopping trip, the both of you text each other back and forth while you snap photos of the clothes you try on in the change room. It’s a bit strange to you how his fashion sense has improved so much, usually having no interest in what you wear but today, he gives good opinions and even suggestions.

5:22 pm. Y/N: Aren’t you busy with work?

5:22 pm. Hyunwoo: sort of. 5:22 pm. Hyunwoo: but I always have time for you.

5:23 pm. Y/N: what? Is this the same Hyunwoo I know? 5:23 pm. Y/N: are you okay?

Namjoon sets his phone down, rubbing his sweaty hands onto his jeans. It’s then that he realizes he might’ve taken things a bit too far. But how badly did your fiancé have to treat you for you to be shocked over some attention and caring words?

Despite the anger and guilt he feels inside, he brushes it all away. You’re his client’s significant other. This is his job. You’re getting married.

5:25 pm. Hyunwoo: perfectly fine.

//

Namjoon isn't particularly close with his co-workers. He does have friends, quite noisy ones too with the main chat constantly blowing up but lately, everyone’s been preoccupied with work. Thus, it comes as no surprise when he’s alone at a table in the break room, nibbling on his squashed lemon loaf for lunch.

12:08 pm. Y/N: have you eaten yet?

He abandons his food for his phone, eyes almost pressed against the screen as his thumbs begin to tap.

12:08 pm. Hyunwoo: eating right now. 12:08 pm. Hyunwoo: have you eaten?

12:09 pm. Y/N: eating right now too.

Enthusiastic Namjoon with wide eyes, snaps his pitiful lemon loaf slice and sends it to you.

12:10 pm. Hyunwoo: [image.jpg]

12:10 pm. Y/N: oh my god.   12:10 pm. Y/N: what is that?

12:11 pm. Hyunwoo: it’s something I grabbed this morning. 12:11 pm. Hyunwoo: :(  

12:11 pm. Y/N. :( 12:12 pm. Y/N: but why won’t you just go out to eat? 12:12 pm. Y/N: can’t your secretary grab you something?

Namjoon pauses for a moment, taking a bite as he thinks. His client Hyunwoo is wealthy and would never eat something like this. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t message you in this manner like you’re his friend, like you’re his fiancée but in the contemplation of selfishness and loneliness, he pushes away all the unsettling thoughts and tries to be honest instead.  

12:14 pm. Hyunwoo: it’s okay. 12:14 pm. Hyunwoo: its good to save money

12:14 pm. Y/N: save money? 12:15 pm. Y/N: wow 12:15 pm. Y/N: is this the same hyunwoo i know?

He hesitates before typing out-

12:15 pm. Hyunwoo: what do you mean?

12:16 pm. Y/N: well you love to splurge.

12:16 pm. Hyunwoo: what can I say? 12:16 pm. Hyunwoo: I’m a changed man.

12:16 pm. Y/N: you certainly are. 12:17 pm. Y/N: i like these new changes haha 12:17 pm. Y/N: but i love you regardless.

Namjoon shifts in his seat uncomfortably. His eyes shoot up to a few of his co-workers sitting together and whining about work. He wonders if anyone can tell the subtle blush on his cheeks, the way his lips tingle into a slight smile and how his client’s significant other’s words are getting to him way too much. But no one notices that he’s going a bit too far and he’s on the verge of breaking company policies.

The logical thing to do would be to draw more distance, perhaps even ask his boss to switch clients with another worker. It certainly isn’t normal what Namjoon’s experiencing, the conversations that he’s so invested in and the tiny flutters he feels in his chest. The logical thing would be to identify that you didn’t even know him, that he didn’t know you and you were in love with someone else. But Namjoon didn’t want to do the logical thing.

12:19 pm. Hyunwoo: what are you eating?

12:19 pm. Y/N: salad. 12:20 pm. Y/N: [image.jpg]

He pulls up the photo and almost chokes on the food inside his mouth. His co-workers turn around to shoot him a glance and he looks back up before down at his phone again.

12:20 pm. Hyunwoo: Why is it so tiny?

Your salad bowl was probably less than the size of his hand and looked like something you’d feed to rabbits. There wasn’t even any sauce, just salad and tomatoes, cucumbers and a few pieces of sad cilantro.

12:21 pm. Y/N: well I was thinking about what you said... 12:21 pm. Y/N: you know about how I should lose weight and all that 12:21 pm. Y/N: eat less 12:22 pm. Y/N: I was really mad at the time. We got into a huge argument and i slammed the door. 12:22 pm. Y/N: I didn’t even get to apologize to you. But I was thinking 12:22 pm. Y/N: and youre right. 12:23 pm. Y/N: i mean i have to fit into a wedding gown in a few months later anyways

Namjoon is absolutely appalled and horrified. His thumbs tap onto the keyboard of his phone at such a furious pace that he can’t think twice before sending you the endless stream of messages. He doesn’t notice how his fingers begin to cramp up, how he almost drops his phone and the way his co-workers shoot him another odd glance. His brows are so tightly knitted together that it begins to give him a headache.

12:24 pm. Hyunwoo: god no. 12:24 pm. Hyunwoo: fuck. 12:24 pm. Hyunwoo: you don’t need to apologize. 12:24 pm. Hyunwoo: I was just being an asshole okay? 12:25 pm. Hyunwoo: don’t listen to anyone. 12:25 pm. Hyunwoo: Why would you listen to anyone who tells you that?!

12:25 pm. Y/N: calm down 12:25 pm. Y/N: why are you so mad?

12:26 pm. Hyunwoo: i’m not mad. 12:26 pm. Hyunwoo: i’m just wondering what the hell’s going on in your mind for you to think that way. it’s not okay.

12:28 pm. Y/N: are you okay? 12:28 pm. Y/N: you’re acting weird

It had taken two minutes for you to respond, Namjoon waiting on the other side as the dots appeared, signalling that you’re typing and erasing, contemplating what to say. With your response, he takes two deep breaths. Namjoon swears that if he ever meets your fiancé, he’ll have to give him a good punch straight in the nose.

12:29 pm. Hyunwoo: i’m fine. 12:29 pm. Hyunwoo: just 12:30 pm. Hyunwoo: go eat more. 12:30 pm. Hyunwoo: take care of yourself. 12:30 pm. Hyunwoo: don’t listen to what I’ve told you before.

12:31 pm. Y/N: okay.

You’re giggling somewhere in your apartment home, salad aside as you focus on texting. You don’t understand how Hyunwoo’s suddenly becoming so much more attentive and caring towards you. But whatever the change is, you love this...him...much more than before.  

12:32 pm. Hyunwoo: you better eat five times that much miss!   12:32 pm. Hyunwoo: go order yourself a big mac or something.

12:33 pm. Y/N: yes sir! 12:33 pm. Y/N: you too 12:33 pm. Y/N: how’s that bread thing suppose to fill you up?

12:34 pm. Hyunwoo: fine. 12:34 pm. Hyunwoo: when i come home i want the both of us to have an additional ten pounds 12:34 pm. Hyunwoo: that way it’s softer when i cuddle you and when you cuddle me

He waits for your response, cheek rested in his propped hand and he taps his foot.

12:36 pm. Hyunwoo: Y/N?

12:37 pm. Y/N: HYUNWOO!

12:37 pm. Hyunwoo: what

12:37 pm. Y/N: I love you.

The remorse still exists somewhere in Namjoon’s chest but with another flutter and his grin being plastered on his face, he re-reads your message three times. He takes the last bite of his lemon loaf before switching off his phone and he’s still replaying the words in his head again.

//

Namjoon is laying in his bed, covers tucked up to his chin as he finally switches off his lamp and sets his phone down on the nightstand. He settles in the mattress, closing his eyes as his tense muscles relax and he’s ready to fall asleep. He’ll wake up in a handful of hours to get ready for work where he can continue the endless cycle of his life.

It’s when his phone violently vibrates ten minutes later and he jolts in surprise does sleep slip away from his grasp. Namjoon lifts his hand and grabs his phone, the brightness of it blinding him in his eyes but he doesn’t mind in the least bit when he sees your-

12:51 am. Y/N: are you asleep?

12:51 am. Hyunwoo: no. 12:51 am. Hyunwoo: what’s wrong?

Namjoon peels his eyelids back fully and he lifts his other hand from beneath the covers in order to type with both thumbs. He waits patiently for your response, watching the three dots bob up and down.

12:52 am. Y/N: nothing 12:52 am. Y/N: i just miss you 12:54 am. Y/N: sorry

12:54 am. Hyunwoo: why are you apologizing?

12:54 am. Y/N: well 12:55 am. Y/N: i know you dont like it when i say that kind of stuff 12:55 am. Y/N: and i don’t want to come off as clingy 12:55 am. Y/N: or burden you

12:56 am. Hyunwoo: you’re not. 12:56 am. Hyunwoo: and you dont have to worry about something like that 12:57 am. Hyunwoo: we’re engaged aren’t we?

He rolls his body to one side, sighing as he reads his own words over again. Namjoon almost chuckles in disbelief at how honest his lies are. He’s not engaged with you but he certainly isn’t telling fibs about everything else.

12:58 am. Hyunwoo: i miss you too.

1:00 am. Y/N: hey 1:00 am. Y/N: should we get a puppy?

In the darkness of his bedroom, the peaceful quiet is broken with his loud laugh.

The text is so random and out of place that he’s left feeling confused, baffled and amused all at the same time. Namjoon contemplates carefully and reaches a conclusion that with the prim and properness of your fiancé; Hyunwoo probably wouldn’t enjoy a little dog running around your abode with it’s paws all over the furniture. Despite Namjoon’s actual opinion, he follows through with his client’s.

1:01 am. Hyunwoo: no 1:01 am. Hyunwoo: I think that’s a bad idea

1:01 am. Y/N: :( 1:01 am. Y/N: why? 1:02 am. Y/N: puppies are great.

1:02 am. Hyunwoo: i agree 1:02 am. Hyunwoo: but why do you want one so suddenly?

1:03 am. Y/N: what do you mean 1:03 am. Y/N: ive been asking you since a long time ago 1:04 am. Y/N: im just bored around the house by myself

1:04 am. Hyunwoo: ill come back soon 1:04 am. Hyunwoo: and i’ll keep you company then

1:05 am. Y/N: I’m counting down the days.

Namjoon isn’t. And for the first time in his life, he’s hoping that the days last long.

1:06 am. Hyunwoo: do you miss me?

1:06 am. Y/N: yes 1:06 am. Y/N: i just told you 1:06 am. Y/N: i miss you lots and lots! to the world and back

1:07 am. Hyunwoo: i mean i’m a million miles away from you.

1:07 am. Y/N: i do but at the same time i don’t 1:08 am. Y/N: you text me so much that sometimes it feels like you’re right here with me

He feels a twinge in his chest, something that lodges up inside his throat. Your real fiancé is indeed hundreds of miles away and the only means of communication you have with him is over the phone. But on the other side of the screen isn’t him but Namjoon instead - a complete stranger that you’re pouring all your love and affection into.

1:08 am. Y/N: thank you

1:08 am. Hyunwoo: what for?

1:09 am. Y/N: making time for me 1:09 am. Y/N: I know we had a few arguments before you left. The both of us become so distant with each other 1:10 am. Y/N: I’ll be honest. for a moment there it felt like things were really over 1:10 am. Y/N: but I’m happy that we’re okay now. 1:11 am. Y/N: i love you a lot hyunwoo 1:12 am. Y/N: i don’t think i say it enough.

1:12 am. Hyunwoo: no. 1:12 am. Hyunwoo: i definitely don’t say it enough

Namjoon’s fingers tremble as he types, hovering hesitantly over each key. It takes him a long minute before he shuts his eyes and taps the ‘send’ button.

1:13 am. Hyunwoo: I love you.

In the deepest part of his mind, he really doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not.

1:14 am. Y/N: now i’m blushing 1:14 am. Y/N: with this stupid smile 1:14 am. Y/N: wish you were here to see it

1:15 am. Hyunwoo: me too

1:15 am. Y/N: well soon enough you will be and then we won’t have to text anymore

The simple thought of it makes Namjoon nauseous. And he feels disgusted with himself for feeling this way. He has no right to carry any feelings or attachments to you. He’s a downright liar. He’s not who you think he is.

1:16 am. Y/N: I’m tired. 1:16 am. Y/N: probably gonna head off to bed soon 1:16 am. Y/N: don’t stay up too late working

1:16 am. Hyunwoo: i won’t. 1:17 am. Hyunwoo: good night.

1:17 am. Y/N: sweet dreams 1:18 am. Y/N: love you.

Namjoon shuts off his phone, sliding it back onto the cool surface of his nightstand. He shifts back into his covers, rolling to the other side and away from the damp stain on his pillow.

//

He doesn’t know what’s been brought over him. But the moment he sees your message mid-day, sitting at his cubicle desk, he gets up and grabs his coat. He mumbles a half-hearted excuse to his co-worker who doesn’t peel their eyes off from their phone, still leaning back in their swivel chair as they give a hum thirty seconds later. No one notices Namjoon’s hesitance steps, the endless stuttering ghosting under his breaths, his hair becoming damp with sweat and especially as he slips out of the office. Not even his boss bothers to say anything or rather, he doesn’t pay any attention, pupils glued onto his phone screen and thumbs tapping away.

Namjoon muses that he’s easily replaceable in the company. No one would even miss him.

But he doesn’t dwell on those depressing thoughts when his heart is palpitating like he’s run an entire marathon. He grips his fist tight as he walks down the street, picking up the pace to the point where he’s practically jogging past people. It’s wrong, so utterly wrong. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. And at the same time he knows exactly what he’s doing.

2:46 pm. Y/N: guess where i’m headinggggg

2:48 pm. Hyunwoo: where

2:48 pm. Y/N: i said guess

2:49 pm. Hyunwoo: idk the park?

2:49 pm. Y/N: no 2:49 pm. Y/N: you suck at guessing 2:50 pm. Y/N: im going out for coffee by myself 2:50 pm. Y/N: you know my favourite place 2:50 pm. Y/N: heard that the latte drink came back

2:51 pm. Hyunwoo: favourite place?

2:51 pm. Y/N: dont tell me you forgot

2:52 pm. Hyunwoo: uhh 2:52 pm. Hyunwoo: doesnt ring a bell 2:52 pm. Hyunwoo: remind me.

2:53 pm. Y/N: the cute store on the corner of fifth avenue 2:53 pm. Y/N: remember?

And that was exactly where Namjoon was heading. His heart beating a mile per minute, his feet shuffling so speedily against the pavement that he nearly trips, his eyes pointed to one spot that he’s all too familiar with. It’s the same place where he gets his own coffee every morning, the same exact place that he’s walked in and out of a million times before and now he can only wonder how many times have he missed you. How many times have the both of you passed by each other? Perhaps your eyes have met once before, maybe you standing in the back of the line while he was in front. But whatever the case, Namjoon has never been more desperate in his life.

He just wants to see you.

The bells on the emerald wooden door shake and rattle as he pulls it open, a chime that signals his entrance and the barista behind the counter greets him with a smile. Immediately, he does a full scan inside, looking at the few people at the table but he’s pulled away when someone asks ‘what would you like to order?’.

“Uh...I’ll have the new latte.” He winces at the sound of his hoarse voice, not used to speaking. He touches his throat with lips tight together but the cashier smiles at him.

“Great choice. We’ll have it ready in just a moment.” She taps onto her monitor. “What’s your name?”

“Namjoon.”

She scribbles down his name onto the cup and he shuffles to the other counter to wait for his drink.

3:04 pm. Y/N: can you believe they misspelled my name? 3:04 pm. Y/N: like god it’s not even that hard 3:05 pm. Y/N: it’s Y/N. Just Y/N!

Namjoon chuckles to himself and he opens his mouth to softly enunciate your name, never having done it before. “Y/N.”

“Nam...soon?” He jumps startled, looking up at the barista who slides his drink onto the counter. “Is this your drink?”

“Oh.” He looks down, quickly grabbing the latte cup into his hand. “Thanks.” As the barista moves back to fill another order, he lingers at the counter and frowns at his cup - the way they scribbled down his name as ‘Namson’.

He doesn’t look around, eyes pressed onto his screen as he walks deeper into the shop and settles down at an empty table.

3:08 pm. Hyunwoo: they misspelled my name too

3:09 pm. Y/N: what?

He nearly spits out his drink as he re-reads what he had sent. He sets down his cup and phone, groaning and quietly banging his head on the wooden surface of the table. He messed up. He messed up real bad.

3:11 pm. Hyunwoo: i mean the last time i went there 3:11 pm. Hyunwoo: when i used to go there 3:11 pm. Hyunwoo: before i went abroad 3:11 pm. Hyunwoo: obviously

There’s a slight giggle that comes from an adjacent table and he immediately lifts his head to the bubbling sound. A girl...or rather a beautiful woman is seated on the chair with a latte by her side, her phone held in her hands as she momentarily glances out the window. The sunlight gleams in, hitting right against her luscious locks and her crinkled orbs shimmers even brighter.

It’s you.

And his expectations are shattered.

You’ve reached beyond his imagination, a million ways more beautiful than he’s ever thought. It feels surreal to be so close to you, sitting diagonally. From an outsider’s perspective, glancing inwards, it might look like you’re sitting across from each other but he’s at the next table, beside yours with a distance less than a meter.

From his prolonged gaze, mesmerized at the tiny gap, you catch him in your peripheral vision. The moment your eyes meet his, he rips his away and stares down at his phone, cowering away from your stare. A tiny smile sneaks up your lips but then you turn to focus back on texting.

3:15 pm. Y/N: dont be mad 3:15 pm. Y/N: but there’s this really cute guy sitting diagonally from me

Namjoon sputters again but he covers his mouth with his arm, pretending it’s a rough cough and he pounds his chest for a second as if he has the flu.

3:15 pm. Hyunwoo: Really?

3:15 pm. Y/N: all he did was look at me dont worry 3:16 pm. Y/N: just cause i have a ring on my finger doesnt mean i can’t look 3:16 pm. Y/N: being engaged doesn’t make me blind

His fingers hover over the letters and he knows he shouldn’t but he also knows he shouldn’t have done a lot of things. He shouldn’t text you so attentively, so fondly with answers straight out of his heart...he shouldn’t have let curiosity get the better of himself. He shouldn’t have tried to meet you like this. He shouldn’t be here.

There’s a lot of things he shouldn’t have done. One more thing wouldn’t hurt.

3:18 pm. Hyunwoo: tell me about him.

Namjoon steals a glance from you and your head is tilted with a slight frown on your face but an amused smile at the same time.

3:18 pm. Hyunwoo: i mean i want to know who’s captured my fiancée’s heart.

A bit of laughter falls from your lips and you quickly cover your mouth with your hand. Namjoon shifts closer onto his chair, not being able to stop his smile that stretches across his cheeks.

3:19 pm. Y/N: well he’s got cute dimples. so that's an automatic +100 points 3:19 pm. Y/N: cute face too 3:19 pm. Y/N: decent fashion sense 3:19 pm. Y/N: just not the pants. -5000 points.

Namjoon’s head immediately bolts down to his baggy jeans. Okay, maybe he was lazy this morning and just grabbed them out of his laundry basket after giving them a good sniff. But still. It’s one of his favourite pairs.

3:20 pm. Hyunwoo: what’s wrong with his pants?

3:20 pm. Y/N: looks like he got them out of the dump

3:20 pm. Hyunwoo: well that’s rude 3:21 pm. Hyunwoo: what if he really liked it? 3:21 pm. Hyunwoo: what if it was his favourite pair? And the pair he bought using his first ever paycheck? What if his mother picked it out for him?

You’re laughing again at the table, covering your face as your entire body trembles from trying to hold it in. Namjoon realizes that he’s pouting and he relaxes through an exhale, playfully stealing one glance from you.

3:22 pm. Y/N: sounds like you have an emotional connection to those pants

3:23 pm. Hyunwoo: hey 3:23 pm. Hyunwoo: im just not a pants-ist. 3:23 pm. Hyunwoo: i love all pants in every shade, wash and size

3:24 pm. Y/N: are you sure about that? 3:24 pm. Y/N: last time we went to get you a new suit, you threw a huge fit in the change room with the attendant measuring your pants size 3:25 pm. Y/N: we even had to go back to return it after it arrived at our house when it was it your fitted size

Namjoon’s chin is propped up in his hand and his fingertips tap against the wooden surface as he thinks of a response. He takes a sip of the latte, using the opportunity to let his eyes flicker to your form.

3:26 pm. Hyunwoo: I’m a changed man.

It’s a long minute that passes as you return to stare out the window and Namjoon stares at you. He doesn’t want to seem creepy to strangers and in fear of you catching him a second time, he moves to stare at the wooden panel walls.

Your phone vibrates a second later and you lift the screen up to your eyes.

3:29 pm. Hyunwoo: Can I ask you something?

3:29 pm. Y/N: what is it?

3:30 pm. Hyunwoo: Why do you love me?

Your breath hitches as you re-read his question three times. The answer is there. You know you love him - that’s without a single doubt. But you can’t quite put it into words.

3:31 pm. Hyunwoo: I mean I treat you so badly 3:31 pm. Hyunwoo: so why?

3:33 pm. Y/N: do i need reasons? 3:33 pm. Y/N: and you dont treat me that badly 3:33 pm. Y/N: i love you with the same reasons as to why you love me 3:34 pm. Y/N: i don’t know 3:34 pm. Y/N: i just do. 3:35 pm. Y/N: always have and always will.

Your eyes move to look outside the window again and you take your last sip. In one breath, you switch off your phone and stand up, the seat scratching onto the floorboards as it shifts back.

Namjoon watches as you throw your cup away and leave through the emerald green door, bells chiming to signal your exit. You disappear into the streets with a mind in chaos of ‘why?’. And Namjoon’s heart is heavy, eye bags anchor to his face as throws his own cup into the trash and leaves in the opposite direction.

He turns his head back once but you’re already gone. He doesn’t why he’s becoming so greedy already but looking at you from a distance isn’t enough. If anything, it hurts even more.

//

9:38 pm. Hyunwoo: are you okay?

It was strange. The whole day he had gone without a message from you; no good morning text, questions asking if he’s eaten yet or if he was having a good day. It didn’t even occur to Namjoon that he had become so dependent on you - waiting for your message at every hour, staring blankly at the screen with a pout. It was ironic, the way your fiancé thought you were too clingy and wanted to get rid of you; now Namjoon had become the type that your fiancé dreaded.

But what Namjoon couldn’t wrap his mind around was how your fiancé thought you were clingy in the first place. You weren’t. You weren’t overly obsessed and it wasn’t like you didn’t have a life of your own. You were just in love. All you needed was to feel appreciated and a little attention to have your feelings reciprocated but Hyunwoo wasn’t willing to give any of it. Maybe the only reason Hyunwoo was overwhelmed by you was because he thought you were burdensome - maybe all your feelings were one sided.

The mere thought of it makes him nauseous but before he can cringe away, his phone vibrates and he instantly lurches for it, eyes lighting up.

9:41 pm. Y/N: im fine

9:41 pm. Hyunwoo: Really?

9:42 pm. Y/N: yeah 9:42 pm. Y/N: it’s nothing

9:42 pm. Hyunwoo: What’s nothing? 9:42 pm. Hyunwoo: Y/N, tell me. If it’s important, you need to tell me. 9:42 pm. Hyunwoo: I’m your fiancé for god’s sake.

9:43 pm. Y/N: i just caught the flu 9:43 pm. Y/N: lol calm down 9:43 pm. Y/N: I slept the entire day 9:44 pm. Y/N: feeling better already :)

9:44 pm. Hyunwoo: did you take your medication yet? Did you eat?

9:46 pm. Y/N: I ate. And we ran out of meds.

9:48 pm. Hyunwoo: You need to go buy some then. You’ll only get better with the proper medication and by hydrating yourself. It’ll be dangerous to drive so just call a cab or call someone to bring it over for you. 9:49 pm. Hyunwoo: Actually. 9:49 pm. Hyunwoo: Just go to the doctor.   9:51 pm. Hyunwoo: It might be a lot more serious than we think it is and what if you faint or you fall into something more dangerous? No one’s home with you right now. Call a cab to the hospital, it’ll be safer that way. They’ll give you a proper prescription and see if there’s any underlying issues that need to be taken care of.

Namjoon finishes typing, waiting for your response but it never comes. He begins to panic, wondering if you really have fainted somewhere in your apartment and hit your head on a surface.

9:53 pm. Hyunwoo: Y/N?!

9:53 pm. Y/N: I swear. You worry too much. :P 9:53 pm. Y/N: I’m fine. I’m just gonna go get more sleep. 9:54 pm. Y/N: don’t worry about me and keep working. 9:54 pm. Y/N: love you.

Namjoon groans, throwing his phone aside as he falls back onto the covers of his mattress. Now, he won’t be able to stop thinking about you for the rest of the night.

It’s as if a light bulb sparks in his brain and the next minute, he’s scrolling through your data on his work phone. Bingo! He finds exactly what he’s looking for, thankful that he has an abundance of information about you. Without time to spare, Namjoon grabs his coat and runs out his front door, nearly forgetting to lock it with the rush he’s in.

He makes it to the corner convenience store, half running and half jogging the entire way. Namjoon smashes the door open, crouching down with hands on his knees to catch his breath. With the loud ruckus, everyone in the tiny shop stop to stare at him and he awkwardly stands straight again, waving an apologetic hand to the cashier.

He throws a small cardboard box into his shopping basket and walks down the tiny aisle, crouching down onto his knees to look at each item. He turns the bottles, eyes flickering carefully to read the labels. Within the next ten minutes of careful selection, he’s paying at the counter in the few bills he has to spare.

Sitting on the curb of the street and putting the grocery bag between his legs - he delicately places a package of cold medicine, a box of tea bags, cough drops, raw honey, a juice box and a chocolate bar - all into the little cardboard box and then he tapes it shut.

One glance at his wristwatch, he launches upwards, thankful that the post office is open until 11 pm and that it’s just down the street.

“We’re about to clo-” The old man with a hunched back begins to flip the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’.

“Pl…-plea...se.” He manages between sharp exhales, lungs on absolute fire from running.

The old man sighs with a smile and nods. Namjoon stumbles, now sputtering and coughing as he puts the package on the counter. He quickly takes out his phone, scribbling the address onto the box. “Is it for your girlfriend?” The man chuckles out with amusement.

Namjoon burns a deep shade of scarlet while mumbling incoherently under his steadying breath. “Something...something like that.”

“Hm...this address is nearby.” He doesn’t press on about the matter as he scans it and puts it through the computer.

“When will it arrive by?” He puts a hand on the counter, eyes as big as saucers in urgency. “Is it possible to deliver it as soon as you can?”

The old man chuckles again. “The delivery team starts at seven in the morning and considering that it’s a nearby address, it’ll probably be delivered by nine.”

“Thank you.”

“Whoever she is...she’s a lucky girl.”

Namjoon shuffles on his feet shyly, rubbing the back of his neck and he waits until the package is tucked safely in storage to be sent out by morning. He lingers back until the man closes shop, feeling a bit guilty for rushing the elder and making him stay past closing time. But as Namjoon makes his way back home to his shabby apartment, he’s never felt more excited; a tiny skip in his steps up the stairs.

//

It’s an odd morning for more reasons than one. On any normal day, Namjoon would’ve already been up by seven but now it’s ten and he’s still fast asleep under his covers. Maybe it’s because it’s one of his rare off days, perhaps he’s just far too comfortable but the white walls giggle as they hear him snore; far too oblivious of the shining sun streaming into the room.

It’s not until there’s a violent vibration and a boisterous ring that jolts him awake.

Groaning in exasperation, his hand lifts blindly to the phone sitting on his nightstand and without thinking twice, he answers the call.

“Hello?”

His voice is raspy, a deep timber resonating from the back of his throat.

Nothing answers him but the distant static from the other line.

Namjoon pulls away the phone with a frown, utterly confused and then the screen lights up with your name….your name - Y/N.

His eyes shoot open, suddenly wide-awake like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water and he lurches forward into a sitting position. Namjoon makes sure he isn’t dreaming, pinching himself once and he curses for answering his work phone - he knows he shouldn’t have, he never does since it could always be a client’s significant other but in his morning weariness, it was an accident. An accident. A complete and utter accident.  

He holds up the phone to his ear for a second longer and nothing but silence replies on the other end. He hangs up.

Oh my god. Oh my god. His fingers are deeply threaded through his hair as he paces back and forth. He messed up. He messed up real bad. Did you find out? Did you know? It definitely wasn’t Hyunwoo’s voice, not by a million years and you would be able to tell by the first syllable, even just by the sharp breath inhaled. It was all over.

But maybe it isn’t. Maybe he should just text you and pretend it was his secretary that picked up his phone. There’s hope! There’s hope after all!

Namjoon races to his phone but as he raises it in his hand, it vibrates and the screen lights.

10:16 am. Y/N: Oops. Didn’t even realize that I called you. I was just scrolling through our old texts together and accidentally clicked the call button. I didn’t get a chance to hang up cause the doorbell rang. Sorry. Did I bother you at work?

10:16 am. Hyunwoo: No you didn’t.

He takes a deep exhale of relief, falling back onto the mattress and thankful that it was just an accident on your part. You didn’t hear his voice and he didn’t get caught. Everything’s perfect.

10:17 am. Y/N: Did you send me a package by the way?

10:17 am. Hyunwoo: Yeah. Did you receive it? 10:17 am. Hyunwoo: I knew you were sick and didn’t get a chance to get some stuff. So I got my secretary to put together something and I sent it out yesterday with the fastest shipping.

He holds the phone between his hands, waiting for your message and watching the bubbles as you type. For some reason or another, it takes a long time but he figures that you were too speechless to say anything. The thought that his little gesture means so much puts a smile on his face.

10:20 am. Y/N: Thank you.

//

0 new messages.

It’s been two days and there’s been nothing from you.

Namjoon tries his best to brush it off, focus on different tasks and his other client’s significant others. There’s no point in contacting you, asking if you’re okay or what you’re doing - Hyunwoo wouldn’t do that and he shouldn’t either.

You’re probably getting over your cold, resting in bed and taking your medication - Namjoon can only hope so. But when his phone makes a bell-like sound and vibrates, he goes running for it.

6:39 pm. Y/N: Hey, sorry I haven’t been messaging you. Just been sleeping. 6:39 pm. Y/N: How’s work? Is everything going well? 6:40 pm. Y/N: I’m going out at the same café again, just grabbing a latte.

He takes a sigh of relief, thankful that his suspicions were correct. There’s nothing to worry about after all.

6:41 pm. Hyunwoo: Work’s been fine. 6:41 pm. Hyunwoo: but aren’t you sick? what are you doing out already?

6:42 pm. Y/N: You don’t have to worry about me. 6:42 pm. Y/N: I was tired of getting cooped up in the apartment. 6:43 pm. Y/N: I know how to take care of myself.

6:43 pm. Hyunwoo: at least dress warmly. wear your jacket, it’s chilly outside. your cold might get worse.

6:44 pm. Y/N: okay

//

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But Namjoon doesn’t care anymore and those thoughts don’t plague him as much as it used to, especially when he’s pulling the emerald green door open and the bells chime to signal his entrance.

Unlike the last time, it’s bustling with people; couples on dates, students cramming for tests or exams, others grabbing something before heading home for the day. He stands in the back of the line, looking around for you. It’s been weeks since he’s last seen you and though he swore that he wouldn’t forget, your face has already started to fade in the back of his memory.

“Good evening. What would you like to order?”

“I’ll take a…” He looks up at the menu. “...iced americano.”

“Okay.” After the cashier asks for his name, she asks if he would like anything else and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry but we’re a bit busy tonight. You can take a seat and we’ll bring out the drink for you.”

“Thank you.”

Namjoon ganders to the waiting counter, noticing a cluster of people and he looks around for you. It’s only when he’s walking to the same table as he sat last time, does he realize that you’re there too at the same exact spot. He slides into the empty seat, tearing his eyes away when he realizes that he’s staring for too long. But you’re there in a cream coloured trench coat, looking out the window with your phone in your hands.

He steals only a few peeks before he tries to focus on staring at his phone; a black screen, waiting for it to light up with your message - though it never comes and his drink arrives quicker than his hopeless wish. The waitress comes with a tense smile, dark eyebags and messy hair - she hands Namjoon a white cup before walking over to your table with a tall glass. She disappears as quickly as she came even when his mouth is half-opened, hand half-raised and a protest is slipping through his lips.

“This isn’t my drink.”

“This must be yours then.” A voice out of the blue makes him turn his head and his eyes nearly pop out their sockets when he realizes that you’re the one talking to him.

Some quiet laughter bubbles out of your lips at his bewildered expression and you stand up with the drink in your hands. “I ordered a latte.” You slide it onto his table. “Not this iced americano. They probably got it mixed up. Seems like they’re busy today”

“Yeah.” He swallows hard, mouth hanging open and he blinks, closing the seam of his lips as you smile again. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You nod your head, taking your latte white cup and sitting back down at your table. Namjoon rips his eyes away from you, still stunned and just as he’s trying to regain a sense of composure, his phone begins ringing.

It vibrates against the wooden table, convulsing while the music blares in the chattering shop and a few people turn their heads to look at him. Namjoon lurches for it, automatically noticing your name plastered at the front of his screen and he quickly hangs up.

A deep sigh leaves his mouth and he glances over at you. The phone is held up to your ear, a frown on your face as the call is rejected.

7:01 pm. Y/N: I was checking in. Are you busy rn?

The air is stifling, amiss and his palms are clammy. You’re too close for him, despite being a table away. Namjoon rubs his sweaty hands over his jeans, debating what to do and out of nervousness, he lifts his glass and takes three big gulps. As he finishes more than half the drink, he smacks it back down on the table and gets up to leave.

Namjoon doesn’t look back once as he walks out the door and he dismisses the thoughts that he swears...swears that you were looking at him and that your gaze was plastered on his back. That you were staring at him. That you took more than one glance.

//

You’re sitting on the couch, fixed blankly at the wall.

You’ve been thinking all day, the entire week for that matter and your mind is so bombarded with endless thoughts that you don’t notice how the day has fallen. When you reach over to switch the lamp on, the front door to your apartment beeps, handle turning.

“-financing the budget by ten percent! What did I say Jeon?!”

“Hyunwoo?”

He sighs, pulling in his suitcase and closing the door behind him. You get up, opening your mouth but he quickly draws his hand out. “I’m on the phone.” He silences you, walking away and into the bedroom. “Don’t you dare make any excuses. Do you even know who my fathe-”

His voice drowns out as he shuts the door and you fall back onto the couch again; staring at the wall blankly as if he didn’t come back home, as if it never happened.

“Hey.” His voice makes you flinch, shattering your trance. “There’s stuff in my suitcase if you want.”

“Welcome back.” You stiffly smile, soaking the sight of him in. You haven’t seen your fiancé in months yet he makes no effort to kiss, hug or smile at you - it’s not like you want him to though.

Instead, his eyes are glued to his phone screen as he texts, humming back simply in response.

“How was your trip?”

“Fine.”

“Did you eat yet?”

“Yup.”

You swallow hard before forcing your throat to clear. “Is it chilly in here? I feel like I’m catching a cold.”

“Oh.” He finally looks up at you. “Stay away from me then. I don’t want to catch it from you.”

You stay silent, watching as he turns and you follow him into the bedroom. “Go to the doctor’s. The last thing I need is a cold.”

“Hyunwoo.” You’re leaning on the doorway as he throws his phone onto the nightstand and pulls a fresh towel from the closet. “What do you think about me gaining ten pounds? I don’t need your approval, I’m just curio-”

“What?! Gain ten pounds?” He raises his brows, looking at you skeptically as he scoffs. “Purposely? Why would you do that?”

“Ugh.” There’s a long tense silence before he rolls his eyes. “Do whatever you want. I don’t know. Don’t ask me.”

He brushes past you, not realizing that your eyes are boring the floorboards. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

The noise of the door being shut, the shower knobs being turned and the water hitting the walls is what makes you move. You take two strides to your own phone and another two strides to sit on your bed before your knees give out. Your fingers are shaking as they wrap around the metal, the pad of your thumbs press against the screen and for a moment, you think of giving up. Maybe it’s all part of your delusion, maybe it’s really nothing at all. Maybe you’re wrong.  

But you know you can’t keep blinding yourself. You need to know the truth.

The message sends, slipping through your fingertips and into an unseen universe.

6:46 pm. Y/N: Do you miss me?

You tap your foot, forcing your eyes away and to the ceiling where you blink back tears. You’re gnawing on the bottom of your lip, not sure what to expect or what you’re even hoping for. But then you turn to Hyunwoo’s phone that’s sitting right there on the nightstand, in front of you.

Your phone vibrates in your hand.

You close your eyes and count to three seconds before looking down.

6:47 pm. Hyunwoo: Everyday.

You’re sick to your stomach. Nauseous. Confused. Angry.

You don’t flinch when your phone slips out of your hands and falls to the floor. You don’t know how much time passes by. You’re sitting in silence, staring at the wall.

“Hey.” For once he sounds concerned. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”

You swallow the thick lump in your throat, craning your neck slowly up to meet Hyunwoo’s eyes. He steps back, a little startled by how cold your gaze is and the words that leave your lips are far from sweet honey.

“We need to talk.”

//

You call again and he doesn’t understand why; hanging up in utter panic before temptation lures him to a decision he’ll regret.

9:01 pm. Y/N: Thank you for all you’ve done. Maybe I’m losing my mind but for the past few months, you’ve really helped me a lot. I feel like you’re a really considerate and sincere person. 9:02 pm. Y/N: Thank you.

Namjoon frowns at the message, muddled and bewildered. He takes a good five minutes to think of some sort of response but as he begins to type, there’s a knock on his desk.

“Mornin’.” His boss gives a tight lipped smile and he nods.

“Good morning, sir.” It’s not everyday that his boss walks around the office casually or even speaks to him. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nothin’ wrong. Just Mr Lee...you know? Lee Hyunwoo.” Namjoon nods and his boss sighs. “Whelp, he’s done for. He let us know that he’s ending the contract early and he paid the extra fee and all that, so don’t worry. You got one less client now but you’ll probably get another one in a few days or so. Just hang on tight for now.”

All the words are delayed in his ears, taking longer to register and he’s confused even more than before. The day he’s been dreading - ending his only connection with you, has arrived sooner than he thought, completely out of the blue and Namjoon prays he’s dreaming.

“Wait.” He stands up from his chair, speaking louder than ever before in the office. A few people from their desks turn their heads up in curiosity before returning to their phones. His boss who had begun to walk away turns on his heel.

“Yes?”

“D-do you...do you know what happened?”

His boss shrugs lethargically. “He was pretty mad on the phone. I think his fiancée dumped him.”

//

It’s against his work policy to message you again. The contract’s ended. All connections must be cut.

But he does it anyway - when he’s out of his mind in the late night, his brain too scrambled and chaotic with thoughts of you to be able to sleep in serenity. Just as quickly as you came, now you were gone from his life.

You’re not a stranger - Namjoon knew you well enough but not enough to be called friends. You weren’t an acquaintance either but somewhere in the gray zones with no labels; a place where feelings and desperation are the strongest, where labels are wanted.

And all he wanted to know was what happened, even if it wasn’t his place. He needed to know what you were doing, how you were dealing with things, what you were feeling...if you were shouldering everything by yourself. He needed to say goodbye properly.

With every excuse he can think of, Namjoon finally musters up the courage to click ‘send’.

This time, it’s his own name.

2:03 am. Namjoon: Can I talk to you?

He waits an hour for your reply. The next day, he waits ten. He waits with the word ‘patience’ being repeated like a mantra for twenty hours, an entire day, three days and somehow it all morphs into two weeks.

He calls.

And he waits again. But the both times he calls, he’s met with empty rings and no voice, a long beep at the end to signal a dead line. On the third time, he finally hears someone and his eyes light up, he braces forward and his hands tighten together. His heart does a jump as he opens his mouth to speak-.....but it’s not you.

You’ve changed your number.

The days are grey, blurring together slowly and wrapping around him in a whirlwind in shades of the newspaper. He’s not sure how many days pass or months for that matter. They’re all the same anyways.

“Hey. Hello?” His co-worker is knocking on his desk but Namjoon’s stuck in a thoughtless daze. “EXCUSE ME!”

He flinches, blinking slowly twice as he looks up with a sigh. “Yes?”

“Listen..uh..Namson, right? Anyways, I was suppose to help with the interview process...you know, hiring some new people but I’m a bit busy. I’m actually heading out now…” He lifts the brown jacket in his hand, hitching his thumb to the front door in an exaggerated grin. Namjoon already knows what he wants and he exhales, opening his mouth to deny this stupid kid who thinks he can take advantage of him. But the kid cuts him off-

“I already said that you were going to do it for me.”

“What?”

“Thanks so much Namson.” His co-worker runs, smiling fearfully once over his shoulder before pushing the door open and running again.

Namjoon’s kindhearted and considerate by nature but he isn’t a pushover, especially recently. He doesn’t hold back his expressions of annoyance lately and with his big physique, his co-workers don’t shoot him looks of distaste or roll their eyes anymore, sometimes avoiding him out of fear.

It’s not like he’ll beat them up. He’s just really tired and things are getting to him when his days are all gray.

“Namjoon. Glad you could make it!” His boss bear hugs him for one second. “Anyways, you can just sit beside me and tell me what you think. I like to have three people so it looks like a panel of judges.”

The girl sitting in the other chair meet his eyes before she sighs and goes back to scratching the paint off her nails. “Let’s begin. We got a few applicants waiting.” His boss declares in a cheery smile but the pile of papers is quite thin. It’s not everyday that people would sign up for an odd job like this.

The process begins. If Namjoon thought his life was boring before, he was in for a real treat.

It’s worse than watching paint dry. He feels like he’s becoming brain dead.

“So what are your hobbies?” His boss’ smile is long wiped.

“I really….really….like painting lava lamps.” This lady with tight curls and a tie-dye shirt beams at the three.

He wonders where the company is putting up their job advertisements.

//

Three hours have passed and Namjoon’s about to call it quits until the next applicant walks through the door - pencil skirt, white blouse, black kitten heels and hair tied into a ponytail. His eyes double in size as you pull open the door with a smile, fresh face with no eye bags and completely relaxed. Namjoon’s frozen in his spot, mouth agape as he watches you take your seat at the center of the room.

He wonders if you notice him, realizes who he is. Maybe he should make a run for it...hide somewhere out of shame. Maybe he should ask you...question you a million things that he’s been desperate to know. Maybe, if, perhaps...why? There are too many questions, too many thoughts that cloud his head and he completely misses that the world is still spinning, that his boss is speaking, that you’re speaking. But he swears, your glance lasts a second longer on him.

“Why won’t you tell us about yourself.” Namjoon’s boss smiles at you, nodding his head.

You smile, tapping your foot a bit nervously. “I’m a good writer and I have a good work ethic. I haven’t been working recently because of….someone but I put in a lot of effort into the things I do. During my free time, I like to do a little bit of running and exercise.”

“Good. Good.” His boss nods, liking the things he’s hearing. “Now why do you need this job?”

You hum for a slight moment, eyes flickering onto Namjoon who’s still gazing at you in awe. The side of your lip tugs upwards and you stare back at him. “I broke it off with my fiancé about half a year ago and now I’m living on my own….”

“Wait.” The girl sitting next to Namjoon’s boss looks up at your words, eyes sparkling and she takes away the nail file from her other hand. After three and a half hours of dullness, she’s hooked onto the fragment of drama spoken from your lips. “Why did you break up with him?”

“Oh.” You give a sheepish smile, shrugging. “We were just different people and we weren’t on the same page anymore.”

You don’t seem to carry any bitterness, any resentments, speaking as if it was a mere bad dream.

“But-”

“Moving on.” His boss cuts off the girl, shifting back to topics about the job. “This is a really...peculiar career choice. We do things a bit differently around here, working a lot independently and with clients in the area of messaging and love. Why do you believe you’re qualified for this job?”

You relax, smiling warmly as you look into Namjoon’s orbs. He blinks back at you once as you part your lips-

“Because I’ve had first hand experience.”

//

You’ll get the job, he already knows with the way his boss nods at all your words and smiles at the end. Your application is placed into the special pile and you bow your head before leaving.

Namjoon urgently stands, excusing himself hastily as he follows you.

“Wait!”

You stop on your heel, turning around to face him.

He’s catching his breath, looking down at you and you pout your lips, scanning at him from head to toe. He’s a lot taller in the flesh than from your memories, shoulders broder and a lot cuter too. The anger and animosity you once felt for him from being lied to has long dissipated after you realized that it was stemming from your bitterness over Hyunwoo. But over time, the bitterness had faded away into memories and you let it. There was no point in hanging onto things that weren’t meant to be.

The two of you are simply staring at each other, gazing into the other’s orbs, searching their face for some sort of answer to an unknown question. There are so many things you want to ask each other, endless things to say or speak - too many things that it’s overwhelming and silence takes over. But everything is okay because he’s here and you are too, face to face.

You exhale a short breath, smiling at him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” You extend your arm, smile growing at his bewildered expression.

He clears his throat awkwardly, lifting his arm to shake your hand in a firm grip. “Namjoon.”

It’s the first. The first official meeting, the first exchange of names and this time -

There are no lies.