#so many AUs in here oof
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This or That Game.
coffee shop or flower shop | au or fix-it | enemies to lovers or childhood friends | angst or fluff | love at first sight or pining | modern au or historical au | soulmates or unrequited | fake dating or secret dating | break up & make up or proposal & weddings | get together or established relationship | oblivious pining or domestic fluff | hurt/comfort or crack | meet the parents or meet cute
Tagging
@tattle-tayler @learningtogirl @valuepack-catgirl @a-high-femme @bookmothic-dyke @drmothmaam @elis-pride
This or That Game. coffee shop or flower shop | au or fix-it | enemies to lovers or childhood friends | angst or fluff | love at first sight or pining | modern au or historical au | soulmates or unrequited | fake dating or secret dating | break up & make up or proposal & weddings | get together or established relationship | oblivious pining or domestic fluff | hurt/comfort or crack | meet the parents or meet cute Tagging
@alloftimeandspaceisours @estrogenic-ella @la-principessa-nuova @nathaira-stern
#iâm torn on all of these#i assumed the first one was just about being in these places but then the rest are clearly about fics so i have to rethink in that context#i guess coffee shop bc tbh i canât think of any examples of flower shop to get the trope beyond like guessing#a lot of these i like both but one makes me feel a bit stressed when i think about it but is probably more interesting#iâm going with fix it specifically bc i care so much bout fixing your name bc mitsuha and okudera are clearly soulmates#going fluff bc at the moment i have a low tolerance for things going bad#but i also get bored if nothing interesting is happening#modern au - i love stuff like kabukicho sherlock#pretty sure there were more comparisons here than fics Iâve read haha#but i think my general reading preferences and feelings helped fill in the gaps (plus looking terms up haha)#oof now tagging#i wish i could remember who ever actually does these when i tag them so i can stop tagging people who donât want to do them#but honestly i have a hard enough time just thinking of people on the spot or of what peoplesâ urls are rather than like their general vibe#staring at peopleâs discord usernames trying to remember what their urls are bc iâm on my phone and i guess i could use the browser but#i felt like that was too many actually so i removed a couple i canât remember getting responses to these things from#tag game#sabrina says
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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) â Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. Thatâs it, thatâs the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium youâll find that i took concepts of âthe paleâ as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this oneâs a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.)Â
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue
Thereâs a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory.Â
For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes â you donât remember the last time youâve been this well-rested in ages â you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window.Â
It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.
The echo of last nightâs events return to you in sporadic flashesâfragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut.Â
And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down.Â
âSo, what happens now?â
The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline whoâs taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers.Â
You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes.Â
âI wish I had an answerâIâm still trying to figure that out myself.â
You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little youâve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emergesâone you never imagined you'd have to contend with.Â
Thereâs a lot of things youâve never expected to happen. Yet here you are.Â
âSeems weâre at an impasse.âÂ
Itâs an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation youâve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this precarious game of two.Â
But instead, youâre here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where youâve left off with that charming anomaly whoâs upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.
â...Indeed.â
You crave itâlike the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit.Â
You need another hit.Â
âWhy the long face, little dove?â
Because if desire could manifest into being, it wouldâve been Sylus.Â
âWe can figure this out together, canât we?âÂ
You pick up your phone.Â
ââââ
âYouâre here? Make yourself at home.âÂ
You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely.Â
Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, âKeep talking like that, Iâm about to cum.âÂ
Thereâs a shocked silence; thenâ
Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character.Â
You snort. âGood morning to you too, I guess.âÂ
He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth.Â
"Good morning, indeed."
ââââ
You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasnât let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary; which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance.Â
âSo you could, likeâ hypothetically, top up my ascension materials⊠indefinitely?â Thereâs a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. âLike an infinite glitch?âÂ
Heâs content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you, half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.
The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head⊠each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version youâve known him longestâalmost a lifetime ago.Â
Now he acts so human, so alive, that itâs almost unreal.Â
(Itâs almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.)Â
âSure,â he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows.Â
He knows the question youâre about to ask, curious thing that you are.
âHow, though? Like, what are âmaterialsâ to you?â You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world thatâs unfamiliar to you.
âThink of it as upgrades,â Sylus explains patiently. âYou place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.â
âAnd Memory Cards?â
â... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case fileâlocked until youâve got enough to trade for the information you want.â
âAnd I suppose the dealer in question here is you?â
He arches an eyebrow. âWho else?â
âHuh,â you say, considering. âSo, Deepspace Trials. Thatâs something you do on the daily? Because I⊠make you?â
âMore or less.â
âAnd you never thought to question that?âÂ
âMm, maybe Iâll start charging for my services this time around.â
You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. âOh, please. With the amount of money Iâve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.âÂ
ââââ
You were right about your earlier predictionâthis new Sylus in combat mode is something else.Â
For starters, heâs a lot chattier.
âOuch, kittenâ donât charge in like that.â
âWhy are you using a sword? Donât you like the guns Iâve given you specifically for this?âÂ
âWhat are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.âÂ
And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MCâs programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever youâre fussing overâno matter how⊠moronic it is.
âAh, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!âÂ
âMove, then. Let me handle it.âÂ
âBlock it, block it!â
âI would, if you werenât halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?âÂ
He doesnât say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, thereâs no post-battle banter between him and the MC.Â
âGoddamn, youâre strong!â You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess thatâs what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh?Â
Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesnât sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting youâve put him through.
âWe make a good team,â he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when youâre annoyedâ âAlthough your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.âÂ
Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.
ââââ
Come Monday morning and youâre once again swamped with work.Â
You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunchâif it werenât for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, youâd probably skip eating altogether.
And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. Youâre on track for an early grave at this rate.Â
âI could⊠add an egg?â You suggest, unsure. âMaybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?â Â
He doesnât even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofuâs a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value?Â
âI despise that,â you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway.Â
After amassing enough ingredientsâor what looks more like a sad pileâthat might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.
âtofu easy lunch recipeâ
â10 mins tofu recipesâ  Â
âbegginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed vegââ Ping!
⊠Really, kitten?Â
You donât even have to see him to know heâs giving you that look, the one thatâs practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices.Â
(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers youâre always required to attend.)Â
Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, âStop. Not everyoneâs a culinary genius, okay?â
After that, he lets you be â something youâre thankful for, really. Heâs being too distracting anyway.Â
Swallowing down theâstubborn and suffocatingâembarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. Youâre fully aware that youâre a grown-ass woman who canât manage a basic life skill and that youâre probably about to burn down your kitchenâ
Another notification pops up.
Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think youâll find something there that we could put together easily.
Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested. Â
Your eyes widen. âWaitâyou did this? How?â
He doesnât answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cookingâs more fun done with a partner, Iâd say.Â
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-
In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.
âYou happy with it?â Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.
âMhm!â you hum around a mouthful of food. âFanks, Sy.â
âAnytime, darling.â
ââââ
âDo you really have to call me âkittenâ? You sound like a Discord mod.âÂ
Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, itâs clear that youâre not giving him a compliment.
"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"
You blush and look away. "...Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."
ââââ
Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; itâs almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that youâd think nothing could faze you anymore.
Well. Almost nothing.Â
A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X
You almost ignore it â brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando â when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.
⊠Huh?Â
âIs someone fucking with me right now, orâŠâÂ
+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys âfucking with you,â kitten.Â
Thenâ
+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.
Your jaw drops. âHoly shitâ you can text?? How are you doing that?â and, âDid you just cuss...?âÂ
+0063-XXXXXX: đ
+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question đ
So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure.Â
You watch the âtypingâŠâ bubble appear, holding your breath.
+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land. Â
+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an⊠indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.
+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.
+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph?Â
⊠Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is.Â
You: thatâs pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus Â
+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK.Â
You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.
He sends two more messages.Â
+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice đ
ââââ
Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), youâve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. Itâs like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldnât be more ecstatic.Â
You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?
You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>
Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately.Â
You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??
Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder.Â
You: âŠâŠâŠ. is thatâŠ. supposed 2 be a jokeâŠâŠâŠ.
Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.  Â
Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie.Â
"Um, helloâ?"Â
Your gaze snaps back to theâvery real, very presentâperson sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.
Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.
Oops.Â
They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we donât use our phones when weâre hanging out! Thatâs the rule!"
You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. âI know, I know. Sorry.âÂ
Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, âYou were talking about Anna...?â
They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.
Your phone vibrates. Twice.Â
âŠ
You sneak a quick, final peek.
Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling â€ïžÂ
Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK?Â
Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply.Â
You: will do !:9Â
Sy-Sy (??): Good girl.Â
ââââ
"Umâso this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone thatâs propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. Thereâs a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."
âHello, Maru,â Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. âCare to tell me the origin of this proud beast?âÂ
You recount the story where youâve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing.Â
It drew you in like a sirenâs call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.
Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.
âWell, itâs definitely all cat,â your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.
You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue.Â
"I couldnât decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."
Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger.Â
Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. âI think Maru is a nice name.âÂ
Thereâs a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as youâre about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.
Sylus takes it as a sign of victoryâor perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.
 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.
ââââ
Youâve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies â enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real â and youâre bored to tears.Â
âAnother round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?â Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that youâd rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.
Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the âmini-gamesâ in-game.
âThereâs literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.â Thereâs a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that youâre aware of the forming thoughts in his head. âNo new banners. Iâm stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... Iâm bored, Syyyyy,â you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect. Â
To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards â no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups.Â
After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.
He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you, not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing thatâs actually hurtful (This flusters you tooâagain, not that he needs to know any of this).  Â
Thereâs nothing else to do. Itâs like youâve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that youâre privy to. If only thereâs a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offerâŠ
Oh, wait.Â
âHey, Sy,â you call the man to attention. âWanna try something out?âÂ
-
-
You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.
âHa! Thatâs thirty-nine points, buddy.â You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.
He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker.Â
â... How are you so good at this??âÂ
âComes with the package, sweetie,â he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasnât just wiped the floor with you.
By the end of it, both of you are in high spiritsâexcept, maybe, for your bruised ego.
ââââ
âSay my name, say my name⊠If no one is around you, say baby I love youâŠâ
âItâs nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.â
Â
It takes you a moment to process what heâs implying.Â
You stop singing, affronted. âWhâhow dare you.âÂ
ââââ
âAre you having fun?â Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. Youâre too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories youâve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.
Itâs more amusing, knowing that heâs fully-aware of whatâs happening. And that you know heâs aware of whatâs happening.Â
Heâs like your personal, sentient Ken doll; if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.
âI am, actually,â you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. âLook, you two match!âÂ
He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.
Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic haloâyouâre relentless. âHey, can you try a different pose?â
âThat depends on the pose⊠and how nicely you ask.â
âDear Sylus,â you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, âcould you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?â
He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger youâve ever seen. âHappy?â
Woah. Thatâs⊠hot. âOh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, thatâsââ
He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. âYou look⊠hot.â
âMm?â His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. âWhat was that?â
âNothing!â you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. Heâs definitely enjoying this now.
âI could be convinced to do another one,â he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.
You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore.Â
Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen.Â
Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed.Â
âUh,â you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. âWouldâwould you like to do poses? With her?â
He opens his mouth, an automatic responseâbut he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation?Â
His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions.Â
âDo you want me to?â he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.
NoâI donât want you toâ To pose with someone who looks so-â
perfectperfectperfect by your sideâI only want to see youâ
I want to see youââ
Why do I careâ?
I donât careââI care, I care so muchââÂ
âWhy not?â you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways youâre not. âIâll dress her up real nice, and thenââ You slap a pink bow onto his head. âYou can try to keep up.âÂ
He doesnât move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours.Â
I donât care. I donât.Â
You take the first shot.Â
____
âWhatâs the song youâre playing?â
You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise.Â
âUhhâ Pedestal,â you answer unsurely. âBy Portishead. You like it?âÂ
He hums, eyes glinting with interest. âI do. Play the rest.âÂ
And just like that, youâre introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century musicâand to Spotify.
____
From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of musicâquite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what youâre currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.
In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at workâhyperpop synths blaring in your earsâyouâre suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop.Â
And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the âdriver,â especially when itâs their turn on the radio.Â
The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your âsharedâ playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own timeâwhen youâre not using the app. Like when youâre busy with other things. Or when you're asleep.Â
-
-
-
You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie.Â
Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.
Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.
Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient.Â
You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, thereâs twelve new songs on it.  Â
You: awe thatâs great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here
You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idkÂ
You: iâll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2
You: <3*Â
Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it.Â
Sy-Sy (??): â„ïž
____
From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull greyâsmall and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, itâs built as unremarkable as the rest.
Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, thereâs a quiet hum; the presence of something that wasnât there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy. Â
Thereâs a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythmâonly in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.
Itâs elusive; this connection. Something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade.Â
The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude â one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time â comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. Thereâs a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth.Â
The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference⊠all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.
Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.
And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, itâs almost as if the world outside doesnât quite matter anymore.Â
Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been.Â
____
âCome to me, just in a dream
Come on and rescue me
Yes, I know I can be wrong
And maybe youâre too headstrong
Our love isâââ
Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean
(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)
#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads x you#lads x reader#sylus x non mc reader#love and deepspace fic#self aware au#sylus qin
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Here, we happen upon a specimen of Homo sapiens in a most vulnerable state. He appears to be utterly besotted with his wife at the risk of his livelihood. Distracted, exhausted, and borderline hallucinating, he's left open to attack from every angle. Including that of the object of his affections, it seems.
In which Leon nearly naps through a debrief and you give him a run for his money.
mdni [insert tiktok GET OUT audio]. married f / m smut feat. the same agent au from mbotcd. a dash of plot w your porn if you please. whipped leon pov where his bamf wife pounces on him LMAO. bjs, jerking him off, and no refractory period yay!!! slight cumplay + dacryphilia?? cavity-inducing p in v Ă la missionary. banter and praise bordering on body worship. 1 sec of overstim. corny plot twist. honestly just marriage kink. i hate myself too. also you wear a necklace + bracelet cause u cute like that :3
a/n: âvivi wtf you keep writing the sam-â letâs get this straight. i #needthat. iâve been #needingthat. this is a monthâs worth of thirst condensed into a GROSS FUCKING FIC that iâm actually so embarrassed about please donât look at me. i want this man's dick so bad it makes me ill. and dicks are scary ok. nevertheless, i persevere in my journey to suck leon off with mixed results. enjoy the ride <3 + many many kisses to the most kickass writer i know @comatosebunny09 for inspiring bamf reader :,) leon nation has MISSED YOU LMFAOOO
word count: 3.2k (WE BEAT THE 2.9K TRENCHES Y'ALL!!) // read on ao3
Itâs only after you finally shoo your guests out the front door that Leon can plunge into the living room loveseat and let out a sigh akin to that of a sinking shipâs. Or at least shooing is the way heâd have done it â his darlingâs too perfect a hostess to dream of doing that.
Goddamn. Leon pulls a hand down his face hard enough to resemble Munchâs Scream painting. He thought theyâd never leave: the eye-twitchingly pedantic DSO busybodies who had no business interrupting the sanctity of his home on a Friday afternoon, and an unbearably sleepy one at that.Â
Sunshine had dripped down the living room windows slower than molasses while two analysts blabbered on and on about some stupid recon intel from his last mission. One cookie after the other had disappeared from a tray laid out with Leonâs secret stash. And to make things worse, an hour in, youâd started glaring daggers his way when his head started bobbing. It made for a scene dangerously reminiscent of Sunday service as a kid.
So what if this Sensitive Compartmented Blah Blah Blah needed to be discussed at the DSOâs earliest convenience? What about Leonâs convenience? Heâd handled confidential business before. He checks his email on time. Most of the time.Â
But the hard partâs over now, thank the Lord. Leon can peel off the imaginary Scotch tape from his eyelids and instead appreciate the magnificent view his wife makes walking back from the foyer in her company best.Â
Now thatâs something he wouldnât mind discussing at length over tea.Â
Crimson silk whispers down the length of your legs when you throw yourself over the arm of the couch opposite him. Leon snickers; kicks up his feet on his own loveseat in solidarity. Falling onto the cushions, you let out a gutted yawn that couldnât possibly befit the gracious lady of the house who was just insisting your guests stay for dinner.Â
He canât not tease you about it.Â
You remind him that heâs lucky his ass didnât snooze himself out of a job. The threat cuts less considering how funny you sound, muffled from the sherpa throw youâve planted your face into. You were at it for hours, holding down the fort while your husband zoned out. One more word out of him and youâll conveniently lose the files he needs for his upcoming assignment. Â
Oof. Leon knows not to negotiate unarmed.
Anyway, heâs not too keen on arguing with Sleeping Beauty. Canât help but chuckle when you tuck your hands flat under your cheek like a Precious Moments figurine. He crosses his arms, watches you curl up your legs and declare to nobody in particular that youâre only resting your eyes before figuring out dinner, and knowing all too well whatâs to follow, Leon waits.Â
ThreeâŠtwoâŠone.Â
Out like a light. He couldâve snapped on it.Â
They tuckered his baby right out. Picture of an angel, fast asleep as sunlight streams onto the carpet and the houseplants donât notice a thing. Lashes flashing gold in the rays, fluttering with each soft breath you take. You look as if you could sleep for a thousand years.  Â
With his own head heavy with the five oâclock sun, Leonâs inclined to share the sentiment. Heâs close to dozing off too. Itâs justâŠheâs having a little trouble shutting his eyes now that those pests from work are gone and heâs free to stare unabashedly at what actually held his attention all afternoon.
You shift in your sleep â innocent as a lamb, were it not for the bare leg you kick out right then.Â
Leon stifles a punched-out groan by the skin of his teeth.Â
Your dress rides up just high enough for him to peek at the pretty thighs hiding underneath. Leon might have to call over company more often if it meant youâd wear that again, damn his cookie stash. A lean forward and shit, heâs seeing lace. Lace he wants between his teeth.
The rational part of his brain chides, sheâs exhausted. Donât even think about it.
Leon rebels. He canât help his hungry eyes from devouring upwards from there. Right over the enticing plush of your hips, the curve of your stomach. Up to your darling face with a few pit stops along the way.Â
Do you have any idea how cute you pout when youâre trying to squeeze the sunlight out of your eyes? Or that you finger your favorite necklace, lulling yourself to sleep? It rests over the slope of your breasts, a privilege heâs always nursed a smattering of jealousy about, and Leon isnât saying he meant to stare for as long as he does at the pendant playing peek-a-boo between the valley of your-Â
Fuck it. Yeah, heâs looking. Perving over the prettiest angel he ever did see. He wonât be calling God and returning you to heaven anytime soon. No hard feelings, big guy.Â
Said necklace glitters in the fading radiance of the afternoon sun as Leon huffs this particular thought to himself, readjusting his jeans. And then he frowns. Maybe itâs his sleep-addled brain, but he could swear the necklace winks at him.
Itâs then that a pair of beautiful eyes â who should very much be closed â flutter open.Â
Fantastic. You woke her up.Â
It takes you a second. Slumber still weighs heavy on your poor neck. You stretch out your arms, yawning into the back of your hand. Leonâs already workshopping an apology by the time you wipe your mouth to taste the fleeting remnants of your five-minute nap.Â
It mustâve been all that moaning and groaning of his, goddamn it. Subtletyâs never been his strong suit. Leon should say sorry. Apologize to the fawn in the woodland clearing for tearing into her dreams like the great, lumbering bear he is.Â
âOh, sweetheart.â He drops his voice to a rueful whisper, ducking slightly to meet your line of sight. âDid I wake you up?â
Your gaze doesnât lift. â...wasnât sleeping.â
He has the tact to hold back his snort this time. Right, you were resting your eyes. How about he gets you to bed? He hears theyâre practically made for eye resting. Or something along those lines.
âDonât wanna.â
He literally watched you pass out on the couch. You want a crick in your neck that bad?
âIâll tell you what I want,â comes your defiant grumble, and with a toss of your gorgeous head, Leonâs heart skips.Â
You kick out your other leg. Your feet touch the ground with a determined click of your heels. That hip-hugging dress doesnât do a damn thing to slow you down. A few strides later, youâve suddenly got the upper hand, towering over his slumped form on the loveseat. Sporting a wicked, wide-awake gleam in your eyes if he wasnât seeing things. Was he?
You drop to a crouch next to his befuddled head, pivot one-eighty; gather your hair over one bare shoulder. Press the sash of your dress into his palm, deceptively coy.Â
âWant you to help with this,â you purr.Â
Honeypot voice.
He blinks.Â
If Leon knows whatâs good for him, he ought to run for the hills. He hasnât heard you talk like that since Santorini 2016. Somethingâs off here. Either heâs done something very, very wrong, or something very right. That mission ended with the barrel of your Sentinel Nine jabbed into a handsy thugâs ribs. Years of failed attempts at breakfast in bed flash through Leonâs memories to remind him that you donât take being woken up lightly. The sash cinching your waist is stoplight red. Likely for a reason.Â
So Leon pulls it.Â
You try holding still when a smokeshow orders you to strip her, for Godâs sake.
The dress falls apart like a dream. Leonâs mouth goes dry watching you slip off a matching set of skimpy underthings. Wearing nothing but that delicate chain that dangles over your dĂ©colletage and a tennis bracelet on your wrist â an anniversary present bought to mirror your strength â that sparkles in the sun, you cock a hand on your bare hip.Â
Leon sits bolt upright. Heâs loaded with a million and one questions, but youâre moving like youâre trying to outrun those Greek thugs again. You donât give him a chance. When you clamber onto the couch and settle yourself right between the stunned spread of his legs, all he can do is sputter like a rusty engine. His belt falls apart in merry, metallic clinks at your clever fingers. Your dress drops into a forgotten puddle on the floor next to his melted brain.Â
âWoah, woah, woah.â Leon grips onto your forearms when you dig your nails into the waistband of his jeans. Wide blue eyes peer into yours, a dumbfounded grin tugging at your husbandâs mouth. âNot that Iâm complaining, but whatâre you- whatâre you doing?â
You huff, tugging harder at his waistband. âWant these off, duh.â
âBut whatâs with the sudden-â
âI donât entertain for free. This,â your hand darts to cup the bulge heâs been wrangling with for a while now, âis what I want in return for sitting through that boring-ass debrief with you nodding off the whole time instead of listening to anything they were saying. And I know you're going to forget and ask me about the intel later.â
Point taken. He did need to work on his subtlety.Â
âActually, if Iâd done this earlier, maybe you wouldnât have gotten bored.â You hum as if this were a mildly interesting work conversation. âNothing crazy like sucking you off under the coffee table. I couldâve needed your help getting a file out of the garage, and then...or is that too clichĂ©?â
What kind of porno plot is this?Â
âBold claim to make, doll.â Leon fumbles to take off his jeans in poorly concealed excitement at what that could mean. His denim gets thrown off the couch, courtesy of your ever-so-helpful hands.Â
âWhat, you think Iâd put you to sleep instead?â you giggle.Â
By sucking out his soul? Maybe.Â
You perch yourself on his bare thigh.Â
Straddling is great. Comfortable even. Your thighs press all plushy on either side of his leg and thatâs fine and dandy, but right now, Leonâs scared shitless that you might slide clean off him â youâre that fucking wet. When did you let it get this bad? Youâd squelch moving an inch, for fuckâs sake. Look at you, talking big when your head was just as elsewhere as his.
Leon wraps a steadying arm around your hips with his heart beating out of his chest. Itâs only when you lean over his chest to steady yourself that he can let out a shudder of relief. A brief one, of course. Apparently youâve made it your mission so that he never knows peace a day in his life.
Your bracelet-adorned hand slips into his boxers, curling around the base of his cock with a playful squeeze of his balls. Testing, testing, is this thing on?Â
Leonâs throaty groan is your go-ahead to fish out his length.Â
The soft O of your cupped hand starts to pump him, slow at first. A gentle up-and-down that has him tipping his neck backwards over the armrest. Leon doesnât need to look to feel himself standing prouder with each slickening pass of your palm, but he does anyway to see the flash of your wedding ring while you work. Pretends the sight doesnât make his dick jump. And hell, if you donât flash him that pretty smile of yours when you notice, squeezing harder. Didnât know he married himself a succubus.
âGodâŠâ he breathes. Cards a hand through your hair with a tenderness that makes your clamped knees buckle.Â
Leon hasnât got much time left. Youâve figured that out too, dropping a kiss to his rosy tip when the blurts of precome start running down the back of your hand. You quickly swipe a thumb over the mess; leave a trail down his leg, scooching down and gasping at the friction on your clit. You pop your lips over the head of his cock like itâs a fruit punch sucker.Â
Fuck. Has he ever told you how much he loves your mouth? All spit-slick when youâre blinking more please?Â
You inch his length down your throat, soft little gags bubbling past your lips. Doe eyes glossy from the stretch. Youâve got to stop giving him that angel stare before he starts straight-up fucking your face to watch your tears roll. Leon settles for sweeping your hair into a ponytail instead, barely resisting the urge to roll his hips into the wet heat engulfing him. Maybe itâs for the best. Heâd get off too quick otherwise and he needs the time to pick between painting your pretty face or your pretty tits white. Decisions, decisions.Â
âSo good for me, baby.â Leon pants over the soft suckling sounds of you speeding up at the gesture. âOh, fuck. Wait, sweetheart, I-âÂ
His breathing turns shallow in seconds. His lower stomach twitches, shitshitshit â heâs coming. Face flushed and mouth moaning wide open when he spills down your throat.Â
You pull off his twitching cock, smiling like the cat that got the cream with some dribbling down the corner of your mouth to boot. Then you go ahead and fucking blow on him like you want bubbles from a Blow Pop. His lingering sensitivity makes him shake like a leaf. Youâd planned this, hadnât you?
âFuckinâ hell, woman.â Leon chuckles softly, using the pad of his thumb to wipe your lips clean. âHappy?â
You answer with a satisfied flutter of your cum-pearled lashes. Cute.
âGood. Cause now itâs my turn.â
Didnât think you could get away with him making a mess of himself alone, did you? Youâd been squirming on his leg the whole time. Poor baby let her mission get in the way of her needs again. So to return the favor, Leon flips you over. Climbs on top.
You turn starry-eyed with your back to the cushions, beaming when he pushes your thighs apart. Youâre fussy just the way he likes you when you plead pleasepleaseplease. All riled up just from sucking him off, huh? This wonât take long.
The scent of your arousal is heady. Earthy like sugary petrichor. Makes his head spin. Heâs picking up on it more than ever after that orgasm cleared his head like a gunshot. He runs two fingers down your dewy folds to rediscover just how much you taste like linen sheet trysts with a Do Not Disturb sign permanently stuck to your hotel room door.
âI gotcha, honey,â Leon soothes your breathy whimpers. Kisses you slow, easing into your weeping entrance. âIâm right here. Oh, I know.â
First is the initial head-under-water feeling of sinking into you. So good it hurts. Then comes the caramel stretch of you wrapping around him. Heâs gotta make sure of the fit, you know? Leon lines a teasing finger around the stretched lips of your cunt struggling to take him whole.Â
You anchor your hands into his hair in response. Good enough.
Your gasps ghost over the hollow of his throat, your breath slowing to match the languid pace of his starting thrusts. The ache Leon rocks into your hips takes out the one in his back, he swears. He wants to die just like this. Buried inside you if he can help it.
âClose, close-â Youâre keening before you know it. That telltale squeeze of silken muscle Leon knows so well follows your squeak of, âOh!âÂ
âGo on, sweet girl,â he coos, âcome for me.â
You milk him, petal soft. And arenât you a sight for sore eyes. Youâre a mewling mess underneath him, trying and failing to not dig your nails into his scar-strewn shoulders. Donât you know it never hurts when itâs you?Â
Leon rolls his hips into yours to lengthen the euphoria of your velvet walls clenching him so tight. By some miracle, heâs still keyed up from earlier. Heâs got this nasty vision in his head of thumbing his spend back into you, of liquid pearls sliding down your gaping slit and slowly puddling onto the couch. You wonât waste a drop. You never do. Fuck, heâs throwing off his rhythm just thinking about it.Â
A quiet sob of his name interrupts his train of thought. Shit, Leon had forgotten you just came. He must be toeing overstim territory by now.Â
âJust a little more, you take it so well, just-â
Leonâs vision fizzes and pops at the edges. He drops his head down to see your eyes all scrunched up, clutching his forearm with one hand and your necklace with the other, anything to tide you over the assault on your oversensitive cunt. Breaking his heart, but Leonâs almost there, heâs so sorry, angel, itâll be over soon, and- there it is, that eye-rolling whip of pleasure in his gut-
âLeon?âÂ
His eyes fly open.
âAre you okay?!âÂ
When had he closed them?
Leon blinks back stars. The living roomâs plunged in dying daylight. Heâs laid out on the couch with his back feeling stiffer than a sarcophagus. Youâre kneeling next to him with a palm pressed to his forehead and worry souring your expression. But the scariest part of the entire scene might be the fact that youâre still fully dressed, the pendant nestled between your breasts glinting as if mocking him. What.Â
âYou started scrunching up your face and kicking around,â you frown, smoothing back his sweaty bangs. âI thought you were kidding about falling asleep after they left. â
Leon claps a palm over his face.
âWere you having a nightmare?âÂ
More like he woke up to one.Â
âGosh, it sounded like you were having a real nice dream before that. You were all smiley in your sleep, babe.â
He coughs weakly. âSomething like that.âÂ
âHm. Well,â you clap your hands cheerily, âI think something to eat might make you feel better.â
âYeah?â
âTurns out that nap really helped me figure out dinner. I ordered pizza a little bit ago, actually. I was just taking the boxes into the kitchen when I heard you in here.â
Heard. Damn. He wasnât even going to ask about that. Leon nods, stuck in a dismal, nebulous haze of disappointment. Heâll be right there.
A slow smile tugs at your lips. âAnd maybe changing out of these,â you glance at his legs, âmight help too.âÂ
Your hand lifts from Leonâs forehead to drag down his chest. Innocent and light at first, just smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt, and then down, down, down over his stomach to rest over the rather conspicuous patch of soaked denim at the crotch of his jeans. And if that wasnât enough for Leonâs eyes to bulge out of his head, you give the spot a very dĂ©jĂ vu squeeze before walking off.
You can barely hide your giggle on the way out. âMeet me in the kitchen?â
Leon swings his legs over the edge of the couch. Claps his hands to his knees before he catches your contagious smile.Â
Sure, he can. Heâs been meaning to buy a centerpiece for the kitchen island for the longest time. Yâknow, pretty the place up for when guests come over.Â
He might just have to start with you.
psst, find more of my work here!
likes kill fics :( comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and ily!
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy fanfiction#vaaaaaiolet#ns/ft#resident evil#resident evil fanfiction#di leon#ao3 fanfic#fic: ameliorate
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-ËË WITHIN THESE CASTLE WALLS ËË



SYNOPSIS. saving twins from getting killed who turn out to be rulers of the celestia kingdom isnât part of the plan. neither is being instated as a member of the royal guard as their gratitude. with the alarming increase of assassinations, youâre wary of everyone in the castle. who is your ally or enemy, or who will be the one to capture your heart?
CHARACTERS. albedo, arataki itto, dainsleif, diluc, eula, jean, kaedehara kazuha, kaeya, kamisato ayato, sangonomiya kokomi, tartaglia, thoma, xiao, zhongli
CONTENT. gn!reader. royal au. fluff. 1.3k words. rewrite of within these castle walls [i] at my old main blog @/verxsyon. inspired by fire emblem: three houses. mentions of assassination attempts which many of them failed. assassination attempt (tartaglia). seduction (sangonomiya kokomi).
VERA. can't believe it's been two years since i wrote wtcw. time flies by really fast. i miss this series so much. will i rewrite for the other parts? no, because respectfully, they suck oof. initially, wtcw was supposed to be one part so here it is lol.Â

đàŒâ§âË. ALBEDO
a noble descended from a lineage of alchemists. albedo prefers to stay at home to tend to his research and to avoid social interactions. in spite of believing that relationships are bothersome, heâs only interested in you. as an attempt to create a friendship, he brings you flowers which one of his books suggested. he becomes self-conscious that his efforts may not be sufficient, you appear happy when thanking him and complimenting his thoughtfulness. for a split second, an awkward smile graces upon his lips.
đàŒâ§âË. ARATAKI ITTO
a mercenary of oni blood. infamous in his hometown for causing trouble with the authorities with his gang. itto is a popular figure because of his âdashingâ looks and abrasiveness. his overconfidence is one reason why you canât stand him. you never met someone this unbearable. he always disturbs your training by challenging you to a duel, lots of them. comes determined to win the match, but loses every single time. perhaps youâll indulge him once more, just to see what happens when he finally will be victorious.
đàŒâ§âË. DAINSLEIF
captain of the royal guard and royal advisor to the throne. assassination threats have been circulating throughout the kingdom, so he constantly puts his guard up even though you saved the twins. itâs the fact that they trust a complete stranger with battle experience who can kill them any time. nevertheless, he takes you under his wing in accordance with their wishes. his paranoia is understandable, but you believe heâs too harsh on you. he assigns you extra work to prove your worth as an asset. you hope youâll survive the initiation process.
đàŒâ§âË. DILUC
head of house ragnvindr, tycoons of the wine industry. everyone swoons over the flame-haired man. one of the girls at the flower shop canât stop talking about diluc like a knight in shining armor. your opinion of him is that you donât get the hype. politics are supposedly not that important to him, but itâs a whole different story when the royal guard is involved, opposing their operations. itâs suspicious that his comments align with a vigilante who wears a ridiculous costume at night. for sure, you think he deserves respect to protect the place called home.Â
đàŒâ§âË. EULA
exiled daughter of house lawrence, the clan with a tarnished reputation. the twins are gracious enough to grant eula a position of a royal soldier, upsetting the majority of citizens. you admire her dissociation with her clanâs history, wishing everyone sees her past that. she doesnât deserve hate for something that is beyond her control. you want to befriend her, but her sense of humor is unique in a way that it kind of gives you chills down your spine. if it makes you feel any better, she likes you for seeing her as herself.
đàŒâ§âË. JEAN
head of house gunnhildr. jean dedicates her life to serve the kingdom, to the point where she tends to overwork. more worried about the state of the state more than her own health, she doesnât know how to reconnect with her younger sister and what romance feels like out of the romance novels she reads. as someone who spends most of their life in one place, you sympathize with her, therefore offering to solve her dilemma. after all, both of you need breaks from interfering with assassinations. she is confused as to why she feels warm when youâre around.
đàŒâ§âË. KAEDEHARA KAZUHA
a former refugee from an insular empire. upon entering the kingdom a few years ago, kazuha was thought to be an assassin which he of course got arrested for, but was pardoned and given the option to live here and serve the crown. in the present, he patrols the seas to fend off intruders. at the end of the shift, he disappears from his crew just to find you. his captain knows that he is smitten with the soldier who was trained as a mercenary. the poems he recites at sea are essentially confession letters in hopes to make you his one day.
đàŒâ§âË. KAEYA
a fellow royal soldier adopted into house ragnvindr. the elderly consider kaeya like their own grandson, but he is so far from angelic. he misleads patrollers to another direction of the crimes and dodges your questions regarding his whereabouts. the citizens might be involved in his antics, avoiding eye contact with you whenever you mention him. apparently, youâre dense, failing to notice the signs of him trying to make a move on you. heâs been doing those things to make you pay attention to him and have you all to himself in private.
đàŒâ§âË. KAMISATO AYATO
head of house kamisato. responsible for managing external affairs, ayato is required to travel, always away for business. although itâs said he goes on trips most of the time, his appearance is a mystery. rumored to be tall with blue hair and a mole near his mouth, everyone joins in the hunt to find him at the royal party, sending his sister and retainer in a frenzy to protect his identity. your dance partner fits the description to a t. when the guests discover that you were dancing with the commissioner, your partner kisses your hand and whisks away into the night.Â
đàŒâ§âË. SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI
head of house sangonomiya. kokomi is also its military strategist. having the ability to foresee the tactics and its outcomes of another army, she is a force to be reckoned with and a valuable ally to the crown. you had the pleasure of being invited to her guest room, where she was waiting for you in an extremely thin nightgown. not the type to show emotions, itâs rare to see her amused, and she beckons you to come inside. not only is she well-versed in the art of war, sheâs surprisingly an expert in the art of seduction as well.
đàŒâ§âË. TARTAGLIA
a diplomat from a neighboring kingdom, or so he claims to be. there is something about childe that sets him apart from the other diplomats who visited the kingdom. your first encounter with him is not pleasant. a mutual distrust forms between the two of you, yet the space you both share is tense. one night with crazed eyes and a knife at your neck, he reveals that he was assigned to assassinate the twins. youâre in the way, but oddly enough, he doesnât want to hurt you. it seems like heâs doing this against his will, or itâs the tension talking.Â
đàŒâ§âË. THOMA
retainer of house kamisato. thoma is a fan favorite among the royal staff by being the type of servant they needed. honestly, you donât like him. but you donât dislike him either. the epitome of perfection, but too perfect for your taste. heâs also too nice for his own good, hearing him apologize things he isnât at fault for and saying yes to all requests from the staff. as he serves a clan full of swordsmen, he knows how to fight. so when you unleash a surprise attack on him, he doesnât retaliate. it reminds him of a similar incident in the past that changed his life for the worse.
đàŒâ§âË. XIAO
a deity sworn to protect the kingdom centuries ago as a promise to one draconic god. xiao finds humans strange, but youâre even stranger, as a child who fought against a beast by yourself in the forest, accidentally fulfilling a commission for a mercenary group who struggled to kill it for months. he despises crowds, but decides to pose as a royal soldier to meet you. when you encounter a dangerous creature during your patrol, he comes to your rescue. then he whispers into your ear to call his name in times of desperation before disappearing into thin air.
đàŒâ§âË. ZHONGLI
a knowledgeable historian. zhongli is friendly and enjoys having casual conversations over tea. there isnât anyone within the castle who has not been invited to his corner of the library. you have been there as a regular you already lost count. from those meetings, you track his mesmerizing amber eyes. you swear that youâve seen them in some history books of a draconic deity who once presided over this kingdom. itâs impossible, as higher beings perished during the cataclysm, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

#âȘ .fics#house of solis occasum#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#gi x reader#albedo x reader#arataki itto x reader#diluc x reader#eula x reader#dainsleif x reader#jean x reader#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kaeya x reader#kamisato ayato x reader#sangonomiya kokomi x reader#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#thoma x reader#xiao x reader#zhongli x reader#genshin impact fluff#genshin fluff#gi fluff
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Agatha x Rio Fic Rec Master List
Everyone has their own fic preferences. My personal recommended picks here, AUs included, that generally check off these boxes:
Balanced power dynamic i.e. no sugar baby fantasies here, no dependencies, they give as good as they get
Some plot i.e. no pure smut fics here, though some have them bangin' quite a bit
Characterisation i.e. ideally cunt4cunt freak4freak, although some AUs have them a lot softer than canon but I can roll with it if the power dynamic holds
Last updated: 13 Mar '25.
Now, in no order of merit:
Go enjoy all their works, they've written a bunch of stuff. Here are just highlights:
@thiswildernessismyhome
allow my love to find her brutal way to me
[ 9k words | one-shot ] An angsty time loop fic that gets these characters so right and will punch you right in the feels. Maybe more than once.
memory that presses like a blade against her throat
[ 4.3k words | one-shot ] Pain and sweet pathos with spot-on banter. Explores Agathaâs trauma from her mom. Rio gets protective, cute, and vengeful.
yeahitshowed
real hot ghoul shit
[ 15.4k words | multi-chapter | series ] Set post-AAA. It's wacky, it's angsty, it's great. Agatha and Rio attempt to work out their shit. Billy is trying his best. Now with a whole ghoulniverse of sequels.
sometimes i still feel the bruise
[ 3.2k words | one-shot ] Agatha is not taking her first Pride very well. Itâs all the trauma. A fantastic exploration of the character with all her edges and soft underbelly.
@paddingtonfan69
now I understand, and itâs time to leave the woods
[ 15.9k words | multi-chapter | series ] One of the best backstory fic for these two that absolutely nails their dynamic. Angsty and silly and horny as you'd expect with these two.
someday we will all be lying on our backs (free at last from income tax)Â
[ 13.1k words | multi-chapter | series ] The gold standard for fandom AUs. The bad boy of the IRS meets infamous tax evader Agatha Harkness.
@alilbitgaywrites
you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me
[ 4.4k words | first of a series ] Death has a cabin in Delaware. The first of a relatively chill (for them) canon-divergent series where these two clash, banter, and begin to heal.
you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you
[ 32k words | multi-chapter ] Expands upon canon (so expect glorious angst) and maybe fixes it a little. Agatha and Rio through the years and into the show.
Naturally if you like a fic, check out the author's other works
because i could not stop for death (she kindly stopped for me) â by @she-s-a-shy-one
[ 70k words | multi-chapter | series ] The historical epic fic. Takes on Agathario's messed up backstory through many different eras and disasters. Hope you like history! Oof, that's a lot of collateral damage, Agatha.
A Graveyard Hated by the Moon â by @viceroy-bubblesmutini
[ 5.5k words | first of a series ] Can't get enough murderous historical escapades with these two? Here's more of this terrible pair causing problems.
blood, sweat & tears â by clarkestrife
[ 20.1k words | multi-chapter | wip ] They meet for the first time after Nicky's death. Let's just say Agatha doesn't deal with it well and has a mean left hook. Heavy on the hurt and angst.
wicked thing, carved into my heart â by @coffeeshib
[ 23.9k words | 2 chapters ] Post canon, the exes fight and fuck. It's sexy, violent, mean and angsty. It's very on-point characterisation, what can I say.
A Wretched Soul â by @motherconfessors
[ 31k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Ep 8 divergent. Agatha makes a new deal with Rio so she can get her purple back. A story of grief, healing, a lot of sex and... amazing food?
All and then Most of you, Some and now None of you â by @momentary-ecstasy
[ 34.5k words | multi-chapter ] Post-canon. Agatha succeeds at taking Death's powers. Rio wakes up with no memories. Captivating plot, lots of death, sex with strings attached, and a coven reunited. It's never simple with these two.
For You To Be Still â by @momentary-ecstasy
[ 27.4k words | multi-chapter ] To save Rio from the Snap's fallout, Agatha binds them together. A plotty, fascinating adventure also featuring the coven and the two dealing with their past.
coven of chaos â by @trickofthelights
[ 38.4k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Rio/Agatha/Wanda and their very weird found family. Crack taken seriously and written exquisitely well with thoughtful character explorations. It's fun and epic with great banter. Everyone lives!
youâll sanctify me when iâm dead  â by @majorlysapphic
[ 26.3k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Rio has Hanahaki Disease and has to work with Agatha while hiding her plan to retire permanently. These two idiots, etc.
a hundred miles through the desert repenting â by @sapphoshands
[ 3.9k words | one-shot ] Perhaps my favourite ep 5 fix-it. Pain and pathos lovingly written.
Rabbit Heart â by @sapphoshands
[ 4.8k words | multi-chapter ] Post-finale scenes featuring our favourite Señor Scratchy, including a satisfying follow-up for our ship.
how the dead walk â by obsetress
[ 7.2k words | one-shot ] Post canon, these two talk and work out the logistics (and emotions) behind ghost sex.
meet you where the spirit meets the bones â by daniandjamie
[ 13.5k words | multi-chapter ] I know turbo virgin!Rio isn't for everyone. But if you enjoy it, this one's real cute and funny and an interesting take on how Death gets a body.
better in the dark â by @seabiscuits-us
[ 12.8k words | one-shot ] More turbo virgin!Rio trying to figure this shit out while Agatha enjoys the process. It's cute times before the inevitable heartbreak.
For the Love of Spring â by FleetingFriend
[ 10k words | one shot ] Post-AAA story. Rio turns into an onion, Agatha takes the opportunity to remember and grieve and heal. Maybe grab those tissues for the end.
As with many AUs, expect softer takes for these two unless the fic has y'know, killing and violence. Again, in no order:
Put Your Fangs In Me â by villhag
[ 73.9k words | multi-chapter | series | wip ] The other gold standard in AUs. Two vampire best friends with a lot of history are more than what they seem. What starts off like a rom com with casual murder reveals itself to be a heartbreaking love story spanning centuries.
honey come put your lips on mine (and shut me up) â by tinyteamug
[ 40.4k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Retired hockey pro-turned-publicist Agatha is tasked with managing feral hotshot hockey player Rio. A hilarious time with these two driving each other nuts in the best way.
primal night â by Palmarion
[ 13.2k words | multi-chapter ] Rio is another version of Death, Agatha is human and they meet one Halloween night at Rioâs bar. Nicky happens unexpectedly. A comforting romantic story.
all my might â by goofball46
[ 15.6k words | multi-chapter | wip ] After breaking up 10 years ago, the two have to pretend to be a couple (again) to help Agatha's political campaign. We do love our angst and unresolved drama. They're so bad at communicating.
To Hate Her is to Love Her â by @justasimplelesbiansfanfic
[ 166k words | multi-chapter | series ] Agatha gets her estranged wife Rio to pretend theyâre still together for the holidays. A long, angsty slow burn with plot involving crime and the FBI, and these two figuring their issues out.
spite, grudges, and other underrated methods of processing your feelings â by @littledata
[ 10k words | one-shot ] If working for her ex (who sent her to jail) wasnât enough, Rioâs been hired to kill her. All's fair in politics? Itâs a fun ride.
How to not keep a secret â by disaster_top
[ 102k words | multi-chapter ] See I can recommend domestic Agathario playing house with Nicky. Rio loves her knives. A series of interconnected one-shots where they deal with different stuff. FBI Agent Rio and Detective Agatha (not Agnes).
queens of killing (we're out for blood) â by @succulentlesbians
[ 64.9k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Winter Soldier/Red Room AU. Plotty, dramatic, secret agent action. Plenty of angst when one was programmed to kill their own kid. Plus, coven team-bonding.
all half things â by @seabiscuits-us
[ 20.2k words | multi-chapter ] High school soccer coach Rio tries her best to make sure her super-pregnant teacher colleague Agatha doesn't go into labour while they try to save the school theatre department. It's charming and quirky with a side of drama.
this machine's a backward thinker â by @slowedshow
[ 35.7k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Lawyer Agatha, Doctor Rio AU. When Agatha decides to help her deceased client's son find his lost brother she didn't expect to find her way back to love and forgiveness. Brilliant parallels within this story and the show canon punched me hard in the feels.
my safeword is safeword â by @anonfandombandit
[ 63.3k words | multi-chapter | wip ] The uh BDSM AU. It's wild, it's hilarious, it's uh very educational if you're unfamiliar with the scene? Agatha's insane and working off some bad trauma, Rio's desperately trying her best to remain professional. Naturally lots of kinky sex.
· · ââââââââââ đ„ž ââââââââââ · ·
â„ to the fabulous authors giving us these stories
#agathario#agatha x rio#vidarkness#agatha all along#fic rec#fic recs#this list isn't exhaustive of course#i do sit on the Ao3 tag quite a bit#but i do miss things#will update as things happen and change
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what's your favorite gelphie fic?
OOF just one is so hard. here's a few of my favs. though more than being my favorite fics these are my favorite gelphie authors so assume i love everything they've posted!
The Love Club by OrkButch. just delightful. extremely queer and extremely heartfelt. and it has my favorite things ever like grief, healing, learning to be in a relationship, and nuanced portrayals of elphaba & nessa's dynamic. very formative to my perception of book!elphie, i learned a lot about her with this fic even if it's a modern AU!
Wiretapped Life by tinyace. another fic that has aaaaaaall of my favorite things like grief, healing, learning to be in a rel--- you get the gist. also it has nor! more fics should have nor! no but seriously this fic is incredible and has some of the best explorations i've seen on asexuality, aromanticism, gender, queer platonic relationships, and how to navigate a shitload of trauma in a cruel world when you have so much love to give. the gelphie dynamic is so nuanced and the worldbuilding is so intriguing and well done and glinda is a poor little meow meow and agh. could talk about this one forever. also if you've read attrition you will like this one, it has so many similar themes sam and i are always joking our brains are the same lol
The Last True Eminent Thropp by Ridiculous Mavis. ask any gelphie fan who was here before november 2024 for their favorite gelphie fics and they will probably mention ridiculous mavis. read everything on her page, seriously. yes even if it's ff dot net. do it. do it right now. this one is my favorite of hers!
Per Aspera Ad Astra (Through Hardships Towards the Stars) by show_me_the_universe. this one is still unfinished but i have enjoyed it so much! gelphie are so cute and so teenagers and they go through so much and their dynamic with each other is the sweetest thing. also has great dynamics between the charmed circle which it's also one of my favorite things :)
Aftermath by narta_shall_survive. another one where glinda is a poor little meow meow. i read this fic like a year ago and brother it has stuck with me. i love the way glinda is written and it has my FAVORITEEE glinda & crope dynamic. also it blends musical and book in such a smooth way and the prose is so crunchy.
and my saint, she is dancing by Mayverix. this one is extremely clever and soo well written. i adore this author's prose so much. made me ache in the best way possible. the way book!gelphie is captured here is just superb.
oh and of course i love the classics aka gretchenmaurice's works. all of them from the long ones to the most recent ones :)
now!!! i haven't read too many movie fics (yet) but here are two that stuck with me and that i love and have very much informed the way i see and write the movieverse gelphie dynamic.
the faint of heart by Verannode. vampire!galinda. and if that wasn't enough she totally thinks she's in some sort of romcom while elphaba is in a supernatural mystery or something. it's just the best thing ever. the dialogue is so whimsical and hilarious and galinda is incredibly delusional and dramatic and i love her. i've reread this a bunch of times it always makes me laugh.
PERENNIAL by anaphoruh. no joke this fic is one of my favorite ones ever. it's just so. i can't even explain it the way its written scratches my brain in the BEST way imaginable. the prose is so elegant and smooth i want to study it. it's the perfect blend of book and MOVIE which i didn't think was possible. the descriptions are so fun and engaging. the gelphie dynamic is delicious. galinda is insanely rich and elphie is her sugar baby in the most lowkey way possible. i adore it.
now not related to the movie at all. last but not least. there is Emerald City Lies by Beta Nova. listen to me. i would never recommend a fic on ff dot net that was last updated in 2016 if it wasn't worth it. i started reading this fic on a plane and it was so good i literally had to stop reading it so i could savor it. made myself read only one chapter a day and yes it's unfinished and yet i reread it once a year. it's so good.
anyway! thanks for asking <3
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The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris): Epilogue
pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (fem!y/n)
summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".
note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. also, this chapter contains some (implicit) references to sex.
genre: social media au (with written parts), angst, exes to lovers, happy ending
[A/N: hehe it's never really over, this is for my bff who just got engaged over the weekend <3]
part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi
â„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâĄïœ„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâ„
June, 2027
[Excerpt from Y/N L/N's Buzzfeed Playing with Puppies Interview]
Y/N is sitting down on the floor, enthusiastically chatting to someone off camera. âListen Roz Iâm so serious, youâre going to have to physically incapacitate me when I want to take them all home. It will happen, and you will need to stop me.â
Someone from the crew giggles, as they instruct Y/N to readjust her lavalier microphone.
âAlright, so itâs super easy â you just sit there, and we bring the pups to you!â
âOh my god. This is my dream. I always say to my friends that Iâd just really love to be in a puppy pile, and itâs finally happening. The pinnacle of my career. This is why I became a singer,â she chatters, then gasps as the first puppies are brought out.
âOh hiiii,â she almost whimpers at the sight of them, some a little more active, others a little sleepy. One immediately snuggles into her lap, and Y/N looks off-camera to someone meaningfully. âI am taking him home.â Someone can be heard laughing and saying âno, you canâtâ in response, to which Y/N sighs in defeat.
âSo, can you tell us who you are, and what you doâ
âMy nameâs Y/N L/N, and Iâm a singer-songwriter. But today Iâm a professional puppy cuddle buddy.â
âHereâs your first question â you mentioned recording a song in Taylor Swiftâs studio for the Prophecy. What does it look like?â
âOh my â oh they smell so good I swear, Iâm so sorry I didnât hear a word you said.â The interviewer repeats the question, as Y/N tries really hard to maintain eye contact with them instead of the puppies roaming around her.
âItâs a really beautiful space, a sanctuary, really. And itâs just amazing to think that so many iconic songs and albums have been partially written and recorded there as well. Taylor is a wonderful friend to have in this industry, and â oh just look at this little guy. Heâs so cute!!!â
âSecond question: Youâre in the middle of a world tour right now. What was your own first tour that you remember going to?â
âOh look at this one, heâs just playing around, such a little goofball. Sorry, sorry â the question. My first concert? You know it was probably some type of childrenâs act? My parents arenât super into music, so the first time I went to see someone and paid for the ticket myself, it was probably Taylor actually.â
âThird question: You said youâre into reading. Whatâs your latest recommendation?â
âI try to read, yeah! Itâs so easy to get sucked into my phone, but I always bring books and an e-reader. Oof, careful little guy, those tiny teeth are sharp,â she disentangles her finger from a puppyâs mouth, then hugs him close to her chest and kisses his head. âI love you, donât worry. So, yeah, what was I saying? I think with reading Iâm always in two minds about it. I enjoy literary fiction, but I also love fantasy. So I recently started There Are Rivers in the Sky from Elif Shafak, and then Iâve been re-reading the Fourth Wing series by Rebecca Yarros. Love that dragon. Maybe we should name you Tairn, or Xaden,â Y/N points at a puppy with dark fur and brown eyes.
âDo they all have names already? All of them are up for adoption, right? But surely these personalities â ah okay. His nameâs Lewis?â She smiles cheekily, but doesn't comment further.
One of the dogs lets out a pitiful little whine, and Y/N immediately looks down. âWhatâs up little pup? Are you unhappy? Can we get them some water, some snacks?â
Someone steps in with a bowl of water, then asks the next question. âWhatâs something you do to relax on your days off?â
âHmm aside from reading? Honestly, I love to just hang out with my family. Go do minigolf, something fun together.â
âNot actual golf?â
Y/N snorts, her fingers absentmindedly petting the puppies that have since fallen asleep in her lap. âMy partner has tried to get me into it, and I love how much he enjoys it, but itâs not for me. So Iâll happily drive the golf cart and cheer him on instead.â
âAre you not competitive?â
You scrunch your nose at the word. âI think I am, but Iâm more scared of others thinking Iâm not good enough â so then I abandon serious pursuit of victory. If itâs just a laugh, then itâs fine if youâre not great at something. Itâs something Iâm working on!â
She kisses one of the pups thatâs woken up from its nap on his tiny nose. âI love you, you, youâre such a tiny little angel arenât you?â
âAlright, next question: If you were in an emergency situation, who would you call to bail you out?â
âProbably Lando. Heâd be fast, you know?â Y/N smiles at the camera. âBy the way, heâs going to be SO jealous of me for getting to hang out with pups all day.â
âIf you werenât a singer-songwriter, what do you think youâd be doing?â
âHmm, Iâd probably have gone to university â maybe literature, or maybe political science. Then Iâd go work for an NGO? Iâd love to know I was making a difference in peopleâs lives I think.â
âLast question â what are you most looking forward to?â
âAside from the new, upgraded tour? I canât believe Iâll be playing stadiums. That feels very surreal. Apart from that, weâre getting some renovations done on the house right now and Iâm super excited to see my library fantasy come to life. I want to have a ladder on wheels.â
You quietly stroke the fur of a red and white puppy thatâs been curled up in your lap since the beginning. âIâm going to cry having to give these back. But Iâm going to, I will. Itâd be irresponsible to adopt a dog right now, maybe next year weâll get on that. Please, if you are able and willing, adopt these sweet little puppies â and I will personally come by and hangout with your pup and you.â
The screen fades to black, and then thereâs a shaky camera that follows Y/N as she laughs while talking on the phone. âI know! I said you would,â sheâs overheard saying. âThereâs one in particular, I just â â she trails off, listening to whateverâs being said on the other end of the line. âDo you really think so?â Her smile widens. âI love you so much, you have no idea,â she nods excitedly at her assistant and starts walking towards the animal shelter representative. âYeah Iâll keep you posted, say hi from me to your brother and Sav please. Ok, see you. Bye.â Â
August 14th, 2027
December 8th, 2027
June 18th, 2028
â„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâĄïœ„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâ„
You can read the previous parts & access various bonus content by going here
â„ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated â„
taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16, @linnygirl09, @hoeforsirius, @motorsportloverf1, @sarx164, @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff, @formulaal, @tvdtw4ever @sadiemack9 @seonghwaexile @screamingwines
#f1 x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando norris smau#lando norris x you#the prophecy smau#social media au#f1 social media au#formula one social media au#lando norris social media au#lando norris fic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#formula one x yn#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n
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Emotions of the Soul | knj

âsummary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?
âpairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader
ârating: 18+ (minors DNI)
âgenre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff
âwarnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think
âword count: 36.3k
âa/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeaiâ for her incredible work as my beta reader! Youâre the best <3
âRead the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!
âââââ
The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.
You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.
At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attentionâŠ
Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.
You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you werenât going to risk being recognized â no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.
No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.
You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.
Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didnât pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.
It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.
Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldnât wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.
Which wasnât going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.
Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.
âThe celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,â Na Sooah said. âMost of those invited showed up.â
âI still canât believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,â you said, rolling your eyes playfully. âMost of them know nothing about art.â
Sooah laughed. âNot all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.â
Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoonâs name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time⊠and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.
Namjoonâs love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.
Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadnât even joined Big Hit yet.
âKim Namjoon,â you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.
You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.
Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.
âYeah, heâs created quite a commotion outside,â Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.
Could that have been Namjoon?
âAnd when he RSVPâed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope youâre ready,â Sooah added, teasingly.
You glared at her through your mask. âYou couldnât have told me before?â
âNo.â
You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. âHeâs Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.â
At that, Sooah laughed out loud. âGot a little crush?â
âQuite the opposite,â you said through gritted teeth.
You hated Kim Namjoon.
You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.
Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didnât look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.
When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.
You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.
One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.
He wouldnât recognize you. You were positive he wasnât going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to â matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.
After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.
Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasnât in your vicinity yet.
He wasnât. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you werenât even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe youâd make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.
You could leave immediately after your speech, right?
âAnd what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?â the older man in front of you asked.
You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. âIf you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?â you asked.
It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.
The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. âThe end carries weight,â the wife said pensively. âIt carries age and wisdom.â
You offered her a polite nod. âExactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.â
âFall is beautiful,â the man agreed. âBut wouldnât you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.â
ïżœïżœA different kind of beauty. Which, maybe itâs going to inspire my next exhibit,â you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.
You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didnât want it to come back.
Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.
Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.
The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.
You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.
âIf you could choose,â you started, voice steadier than you expected itâd be. âWould you choose the end or the beginning?â
The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.
âThere is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing youâve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,â you continued. âThereâs beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.â You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. âMy exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.â You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. âWhen the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, âHave I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?ââ
The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.
You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened â if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didnât look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.
Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.
While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.
It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.
All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.
Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.
You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.
âHi,â Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. âSorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didnât want to miss you.â
Sooah could go to hell.
You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. âI do usually slip away in the night,â you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. âYou caught me right before I was to leave.â
When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.
At least when he was a teen, he could.
âIâve been trying to get in contact with you,â Namjoon admitted. âYour manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.â
You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?
âIâve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,â he added to your stunned silence.
âYou didnât have to talk to me to ask for that,â you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.
âI wanted to have the artistâs insight on which piece sheâd believe would fit best for me,â he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. âOr maybe even have one made personally?â
Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. âI do not take commissions,â you flatly replied. âIf you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.â
âSorry,â Namjoon quickly said. âI didnât want to sound rude. Like at all. Itâs just⊠there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldnât buy it in time.â
âI do not remake pieces.â
Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?
âRight,â he eventually said. âHow unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.â
It was said like a joke, but you didnât bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didnât seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.
âMight as well,â you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.
It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, âGuess Iâll let you escape through the night.â
You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, âGood luck with getting the piece.â
At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.
You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.
âThank you, Maehwa,â he gently said.
Hearing him say your artistâs name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didnât see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didnât give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.
Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door youâd just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.
Maehwa had been Namjoonâs nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didnât seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you heâd kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.
Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoungâs wedding next summer.
She wasnât even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and youâd rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.
Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldnât see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didnât really matter anymore though, did it? It couldnât.
Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?
*****
               December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoungâs engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.
Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.
Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singerâs stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.
The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.
You hadnât slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadnât worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.
You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.
âPlease tell me you havenât been up all night,â Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.
She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. âI was almost done.â
Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.
âClearly,â Sooah sarcastically said.
Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.
âI meant Iâm almost done with what I wanted to finish,â you specified.
Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.
âWhy did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?â she asked, with the most innocent voice.
Your mouth fell open. âWhat? It was all over the news.â
âYou know I donât watch the news!â Miyoung exclaimed. âSooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.â
âI-â
âAnd why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?â Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.
âMimi!â you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.
âThe art!â Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. âBe careful with your art!â
You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. âWhy did you tell her? I was fifteen!â
âStill counts,â Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.
But you wouldnât be fooled. âIt clearly doesnât.â You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. âRight? Who cares about a teenage ex?â
She laughed. âClearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?â
You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.
âI donât care,â you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldnât really wait anymore.
Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.
âWell then,â she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. âYou wonât care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.â
You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.
âWhat the fuck?â
Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didnât just announce the worst news of your life to you. âYeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and itâs going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.â
âBut Kim Namjoon?â you complained. âCouldnât you have chosen⊠I donât know, some cool indie artist?â
âHeâs a cool artist,â Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.
You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. âIs he really?â
âHis music is good,â Miyoung cut in innocently.
Your head snapped towards her. âYou listen to his music?â
âYeah, the album he released in December is good.â
And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldnât really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.
Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her â or worse, to murder her â and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didnât think Namjoonâs music was good.
It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.
Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didnât mean you had to be present, right?
*****
Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.
You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didnât really have a say in this â what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.
Still, you were given a reprieve â the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.
You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didnât dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.
You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.
Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.
âAre you Maehwa?â he asked.
You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. âYou canât just sneak on people like this,â you grumbled.
Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.
âIt really is you.â
You gulped. âIâm sorry, do I know you?â You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldnât know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasnât your ex from so many years ago.
âY/n, donât play this game with me,â Namjoon said, teasingly. âI was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.â
You scoffed. âWhat do you want?â
This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. âYour manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.â
You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldnât you?
You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.
âYeah,â you replied flatly. âWhat do you need to prepare?â
He tilted his head to the side. âWe havenât seen each other in years, and thatâs how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.â
The nerves on this manâŠ
âItâs been over ten years, Iâve changed.â You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. âWhat do you need to prepare?â
He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. âDo you have an office somewhere around here?â
You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. âI have my studio downstairs,â you grumbled. âFollow me.â
He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.
Namjoonâs heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.
No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didnât they?
You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. âHave a seat.â
You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.
Namjoonâs gaze trailed to you. âSorry.â
He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. âYour art has improved a lot through the years.â
You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. âDo you want coffee? Or a tea?â
âJust water would be fine,â he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.
You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.
You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.
âYouâve changed,â he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.
âObviously,â you drawled. âI would expect someone to change after thirteen years.â
Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. âYet you havenât changed at all.â At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, âYouâre still just as petty as I remember you to be.â
Your eyes widened. âAre you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?â
He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, âI donât mean to insult you at allâ.
Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.
âItâs just weird to see you again,â he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. âYou look⊠good.â
Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. âIt is weird, right?â
He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. âIâm happy your dreams worked out.â
Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldnât have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.
âI worked hard,â you replied carefully. âAs you have, I presume.â
At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. âI sure have.â
Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.
âSo, what did you want to prepare?â you asked once you couldnât stand the silence anymore.
âOh,â he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. âI wanted to give you the list of questions that Iâm going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,â he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.
You cocked an eyebrow. âYou couldnât have shared them by email?â
Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.
âI could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,â he explained. âBefore the day of shooting, that is.â
You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.
Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.
âWell, now you know,â you said. âWas there anything else you needed?â
He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. âNot⊠really.â He wet his lips, watching you carefully. âI just thought itâd be great to catch up.â His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. âTo get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I havenât heard about you since we broke up.â
âBecause I wanted it to be this way,â you replied. âAnd why do you have to say it like you didnât believe Iâd make it?â
âWait, no,â he quickly said. âThatâs not what I meant.â
You couldnât help the roll of your eyes. âOf course not.â
He laughed. âReally? After all these years, youâre still mad at me?â
âYou did tell me you wanted to kill me,â you reminded him in a grumble.
He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. âDid I?â
âYou donât remember?â
At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.
He shrugged. âNot particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just⊠I guess I forgot.â
âOh,â you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.
Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, âI was intense, wasnât I?â
You pursed your lips. âYeah.â
You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldnât look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.
âIâŠâ he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. âI was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.â
âUhâŠâ You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. âYou can send it to my manager, sheâll have it sent to me.â
If he was disappointed, he didnât let it show. âI guess Iâll see you next week, then?â
You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?
âDid you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.â
He looked almost startled by your invitation. âI⊠have eaten, actually,â he replied truthfully, never one to lie. âBut if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.â
You shook your head. âNah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.â
He didnât call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. âThen I guess Iâll see you next week.â
You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.
You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.
What the hell had just happened?
*****
               Namjoonâs list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.
Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didnât help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.
This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoonâs company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didnât say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.
And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.
The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoulâs painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.
They were the easiest ones, after all.
âAt what age did you start painting?â Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.
Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. âI started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.â
Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.
You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.
âWhat do you like so much about painting?â
You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, âIt allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.â
You werenât sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.
You hoped the camera didnât catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.
âI think thatâs understandable,â he replied truthfully. âCreating music feels a little like that, at least for me.â
You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.
And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didnât see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.
To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.
âAs we bring this interview to an end,â Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, âI have one last question for our artist.â He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, âWhy did you choose the name Maehwa?â
You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didnât want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.
âUh,â you let out, coughing a little. âWhen I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?â
âA friend of mine translatedâ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldnât tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.
âItâs a pretty name,â Namjoon reflected.
His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.
He had been there after all.
âThank you,â you replied, a little breathlessly.
After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.
âEverything okay?â
You offered him a no-bullshit look. âYou didnât tell me about that last question.â
It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.
âI honestly thought it up during the interview,â he admitted. âI should have warned you.â
You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. âItâs whatever. Why did you even want to know that?â
âBecause I gave you that nicknameâŠâ he said, looking suddenly ashamed.
As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didnât like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, âYou did.â
He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.
Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.
âDo youâŠâ you started, not knowing where you were headed.
Yet it was like he knew. âDo you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?â he asked, finishing your sentence.
You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. âOnly if you take me somewhere nice.â
âYou deserve the best,â he said, nodding once. âI know just the place.â
You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. âThen yes, Iâd like to grab dinner with you.â
At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. âFor a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.â
The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, âWhy?â
âYou havenât beenâŠâ he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. âYou havenât been very warm,â he finished as his eyes settled back on you.
You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. âRight.â You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. âWe didnât part on exactly good terms, you know?â
âYeah.â He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, âIâm Kim Namjoon, itâs nice to meet youâ, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.
âWhat are you doing?â you asked, ignoring the hand.
He stubbornly kept it there. âPretending that this is my first time meeting you,â he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, âSo that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.â
It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. âI already agreed to grab dinner with you, butâŠâ you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. âNice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. Iâm Y/n.â
He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.
âYou come here often?â he asked, adding your name at the end. âIâve never seen you around.â
You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.
âYouâre bad at this,â you teased him. âWeâre in my studio, of course, I come here often.â
He nodded. âAh, I apologize. Itâs my first time around, after all.â
You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.
âIâm serious,â he told you. âItâd be great to start on new grounds.â
âI know. I fully agree,â you said. âItâs just⊠who would have thought Iâd accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.â
He didnât reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you werenât sure you really recognized him.
Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.
âSo,â he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. âThis time, I assume youâll allow me to write down your number?â
You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. âSure, Iâll put it in your phone.â
He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. âI lost my phone.â
âWhat?â
He repeated sheepishly. âI think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.â
That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. âOkay then, Iâll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?â
The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. âThat works for me.â
You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.
âThere you go,â you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. âText me when you can.â
âI will,â he said.
It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.
*****
               âYou are shitting me,â Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.
Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. âNoâŠâ
âYouâre grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?â she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.
âHuh,â you let out. âYeah, seems like I am.â
She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. âI canât believe him. Youâre supposed to hate him. You didnât even want to listen to his music, and now youâre going out with him?â She paused to laugh again. âSooah wonât believe this.â
âCome on,â you whined. âItâs nothing.â
âShut up,â Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. âIâm texting Sooah right now to let her know.â
You tried to steal your friendâs phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.
âItâs just dinner,â you pointed out. âNothing to freak out about.â
Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. âWhy are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?â Her gaze widened before you could even speak. âAre you only going because heâs RM of BTS?â
You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.
âNo?â you said. âI donât care that heâs RM. I accepted the offer because⊠I donât know, at the end of the day, heâs a childhood friend.â
âA childhood friend? He was your first everything.â
TouchĂ©. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldnât even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after â mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.
âWhatever,â you mumbled. âI only told you because I donât know how to date. I never really go on dates.â
She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. âOh my God, it is a date, right?â
You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. âI mean, I think so? Donât you?â
âI thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,â she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. âAlright, alright,â she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. âFirst, weâll need to figure out what you need to wear.â
You nodded, nibbling at your lips. âHe mentioned dinner at a restaurant.â
He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.
âSo then you want to dress nicely,â Miyoung said, nodding once. âA nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it withâŠâ
âY/n!â Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. âHow dare you not tell me youâre getting dinner with a celebrity?â
Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.
You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.
She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. âThis is manager business. You canât just decideâŠâ
âCut it,â Miyoung interrupted. âYou literally bet with me last week that it would happen.â
Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. âI sure did, and I won.â She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoungâs hand. âThank you,â your manager said. âNow, whatâs the plan?â
âTheyâre getting dinner at a restaurant,â Miyoung declared before you could speak. âWhatâs the name again?â
You didnât remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. âHuhâŠâ you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. âSeasons of Seoul.â
Sooahâs mouth fell open. âThe Seasons of Seoul? Thatâs one fancy-ass restaurant.â
You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooahâs voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. âIt is,â you said, voice lilting into a whine. âItâs definitely above my budget.â
âNamjoon seems like a gentleman,â Miyoung pointed out âIâm pretty sure heâll pay.â
âFor sure,â Sooah agreed. âWhenâs the date?â
You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. âWe havenât decided on a day yet.â
âJust tell me when and Iâll clear your schedule,â Sooah said. âI donât care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.â
You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. âYouâll be the first to know.â
âYah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!â Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you werenât at home and couldnât rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.
You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.
You said no to all of your friendsâ suggestions, mostly because it didnât feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.
âYes, please, please, please!â Miyoung exclaimed. âWe havenât gone in forever. Itâll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.â
You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. âAs long as you donât bring me to those fancy stores,â you said. âI hate when people talk to me while Iâm shopping for clothes.â
Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.
âCome on,â Sooah let out. âMaybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.â
âIâve barely even started working on it, itâs not going to be for another full year, at least,â you pointed out. âNo need to shop for an outfit now.â
âPleaseeee,â Miyoung begged. âItâs going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed cafĂ© you like so much.â
The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. âMmh,â you hummed. âIâll consider it.â
âBitch!â Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. âWeâre going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.â
You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. âAlright, weâll go. As long as you donât make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.â
âYour entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,â Miyoung pointed out.
âYou did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,â Sooah reminded you.
They had allied against you, hadnât they?
âRight,â you let out.
âSo you have nothing to say for your defense,â Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. âWeâre going tomorrow, and youâre coming with us. And,â she added, nodding forcefully, âAnd you will enjoy yourself.â
You laughed at how dumb she looked. âIâll try. But I canât guarantee anything.â
To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didnât really care.
It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.
It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.
âOh my God,â you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the cafĂ©. âHe texted me,â you whispered then for only your friends to hear.
Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.
âWhat did he say?â she asked.
You didnât answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. âLooks like youâre going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.â
Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.
âConsider it done!â
*****
               You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.
Gosh.
You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you werenât sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.
Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.
You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.
But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.
Namjoon looked ⊠incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.
He was an artist, too, after all.
Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers â rose and white and lilac â and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.
âYouâre beautiful,â he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.
Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. âYou as well,â you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. âYou can come in, Iâll just go put these in water.â
He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.
Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.
âReady?â Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.
You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. âYes. Letâs go.â
He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didnât drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.
You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.
Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoonâs gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.
He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.
You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you werenât sure you belonged in such a place.
âSit!â Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.
âYou donâtâŠâ you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.
A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldnât tell why you hadnât smelled it before â maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.
âWhat?â he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.
You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, âSince when are you such a gentleman?â
That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. âWasnât I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?â
Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.
âWere you?â
He winced, chuckling again. âNot at all. But I grew out of it.â
He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.
âBangtan changed you, didnât it?â
He nodded pensively. âI think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.â
You furrowed your brows in question. âI donât know a lot about Bangtan but⊠isnât Seokjin older than you?â
Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, âIâll have whatever you haveâ.
âThis Cabernet is actually my favourite. So weâll take this one, please,â you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.
You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan â she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.
It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadnât noticed it before â had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?
When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.
âWhat?â he asked.
âDoes this happen often?â
He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. âMore than you can imagine.â He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. âBut you donât have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.â
It hadnât even crossed your mind, but you werenât surprised that he had thought of it.
âThatâs more of a relief for you than it is for me,â you pointed out.
He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. âYou have a reputation too! Youâre an artist, just like me.â
That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. âI donât think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. Iâm just a painter.â
âYouâre much more than just a painter, Maehwa.â
Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldnât be surprised if they did â Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.
âIâm not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,â you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.
âEvidently not.â
A comfortable silence moved between you â the first of the evening, you reckoned â and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.
âWant to taste?â you asked him, motioning to his own glass.
He picked it up, nodding his head. âPlease. Iâm surprised to know you have a favourite wine.â
âTrust me, itâs worth it.â
He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.
A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.
Not that you were a snobby artist â you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.
âI like it,â Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. âNice choice.â
You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.
As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.
Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.
âNo, but,â he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. âTo be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasnât even my fault.â
You cocked an eyebrow. âYou were the one holding it,â you reminded him.
You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldnât understand how he had broken it.
âYou tickled me!â he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. âIt was entirely your fault.â
You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. âI barely even touched you.â
He glared at you, though it didnât last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.
Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chefâs outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.
Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. âThis is the friend I told you about.â
She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.
âNice to meet you too,â you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.
You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoonâs friendsâ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.
She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.
âHave a good evening,â she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.
You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.
âSheâs Seokjinâs ex,â Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.
Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. âYour bandmate?â
He nodded. âThey broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,â he explained. âThey were engaged.â
You werenât sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.
âAnyway,â he said, chuckling awkwardly. âShall we eat?â
âYes,â you immediately replied, a little too quickly.
It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjinâs ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.
When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.
The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoonâs eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.
No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.
âSo,â Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. âIâŠâ He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. âThank you for tonight.â
You couldnât help your own blush as you replied, âIâm glad I said yes.â
He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.
âWe shouldâŠâ he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. âWe should do this again.â
The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. âI would love to.â
âWhat about on Sunday? Thereâs this exhibit Iâve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?â
âYou want to bring an artist to another artistâs exhibit?â
He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadnât even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, whoâd offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.
So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, âIâm kidding, yes, Iâd love to accompany you.â
He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.
âWell then,â he said, smiling that dimpled smile. âI should get you home, itâs getting late.â
The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldnât quite understand. âRight,â you agreed.
It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoonâs hand accidentally grazed yours â or perhaps it was on purpose â you hooked a finger around his pinky.
Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.
By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.
You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.
Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.
âThe car is here,â Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.
You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.
He really wasnât a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.
You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoonâs thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.
You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.
He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.
And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.
Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.
As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoonâs soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.
As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you werenât alone in the car.
You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.
âYouâre beautiful,â he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. âI donât know if itâs the wine,â you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, âbut I really want to kiss you more.â
That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. âNot here,â he said, head motioning to the driver. âYouâll have to wait until Sunday.â
You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, âDo you want to sleep over tonight?â
His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. âYouâd like that?â
You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. âYes.â
It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.
The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.
You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.
The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.
âOh no,â he let out.
You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. âDonât worry, it was just a cheap vase.â
He looked down at the mess, nodding once. âIâll buy you another one.â
And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasnât budging.
âHold on,â you said, putting your hands above his.
Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldnât resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.
The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.
âFuck,â he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.
âYou think we can make it to my room,â you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.
âYouâll have to show me the way.â
You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.
You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.
You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoonâs lips were carving against you.
You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldnât get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.
It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.
âCan you feel how much I want you?â he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.
You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didnât quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.
âI want you too,â you replied breathily.
You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, âTake that skirt offâ.
Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.
âYou should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip themâ, he added.
You didnât doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.
This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.
He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didnât seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.
âGet on the bed,â he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.
He didnât say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.
His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.
Needless to say, he didnât look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.
He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.
The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly â he looked far bigger than you had initially thought heâd be, though you werenât all that surprised with his large frame.
âTake off your bra,â he said next. âI want to see your breasts.â
You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, âBeautifulâ as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.
And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.
He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. âNot tonight,â he told you. âTonight is about feeling, not about seeing.â
For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you werenât mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people â the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.
If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didnât see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didnât argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.
He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.
âYouâre going to feel good for me, mmh?â
You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.
The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.
âYou think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?â he asked.
For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, âNamjoon.â
âYes, baby?â
You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didnât watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didnât budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldnât bring yourself to look down. Couldnât bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.
âWhat is it?â he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.
He wasnât one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.
âYou want me to suck your dick?â you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.
His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didnât expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.
âWant me to suck you dry?â you added. âWant to come down my throat?â
âFuck,â he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. âBetter get to work, baby. Youâre a lot of talk for someone that hasnât touched me yet.â
âSay please,â you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.
âFuck,â he repeated, adding your name at the end. âWho would have thought you had this in you?â
 Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. âThat wasnât please.â
He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, âPlease, baby. Please suck my dick.â
You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. âGood boy.â
That was Namjoonâs undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.
               Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.
               You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.
Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didnât really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.
âYou okay?â he asked.
âYouâre so big,â you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.
âWhy donât you sit?â you told him, letting go of his dick.
He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.
âSuck me, baby,â he said, still sounding just as whiny.
Feeling like a brat, you replied, âWhat do I get in exchange?â
His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.
âIâll fuck you good,â he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. âIâll fuck you good until your legs shake and you canât walk anymore. Is that a good deal?â
You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.
âCareful with the balls,â he warned you.
You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.
âMy bad,â you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. âLet me make it up to you.â
He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.
As big as he was, you found you couldnât keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in â or as much of him as you could â you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.
Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.
You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.
âSo big I canât even suck you properly,â you commented.
âIâll stretch you wide open, baby,â he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. âIâll stretch you so wide youâll cry my name.â
It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. âFuck, Namjoon.â
He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.
âShould I ride you?â you asked him. âI want to feel you inside of me.â
âYouâll need me to get you ready,â he answered once he was able to look at you again. âI donât want to hurt you.â
You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasnât wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.
âRide my face?â he suggested as you debated what to do.
You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, âLie down.â
He didnât need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.
You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.
When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.
âFuck,â you told him. âRight there.â
He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.
You wouldnât be surprised â he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.
As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.
Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.
You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoonâs tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didnât move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.
âNow Iâm going to fuck you,â Namjoon promised.
All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.
âYouâre going to take all of me, mmh?â he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.
âYes,â you answered.
He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, âGet on all fours. I want to look at your ass while Iâm fucking you.â
âYouâd like that?â you teased him. âYou want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?â
Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.
âPut this on,â you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.
He looked down at your hand. âWhat size is that?â
You cocked an eyebrow. âRegular.â
He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. âI need bigger than that, baby,â he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.
Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.
âGosh, youâre so sexy like this,â he praised you. âEver since he saw you again, Iâve been wanting to see you like this.â
A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.
âFuck me,â you told him. âFuck me before I change my mind.â
He slapped your ass. âYou wouldnât do that to me, would you?â
Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.
He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldnât bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.
It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldnât think, couldnât feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.
âThatâs it, baby,â he encouraged you. âYou take me so well.â
He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.
He didnât pull on your hair harder than that, didnât force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment â you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.
When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. âDo you want to switch position?â he asked.
As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.
âLean back on your hands,â you ordered.
He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.
âShit,â you cursed.
âYou okay?â
You nodded. âYouâre so fucking deep.â And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. âSo fucking big we can see you in me.â
He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.
You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.
âFuck,â he let out, and he looked at you.
The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.
When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.
âLie down for me,â he gently said.
You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasnât out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.
When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.
Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didnât move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.
âYou made quite a mess,â you teased him.
âSorry,â he sheepishly said. âWas that okay?â
You nodded. âAs long as you clean it up, yes.â
He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.
You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoonâs cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.
âCan you pass me the shampoo?â
He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. âIâll wash your hair.â
The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadnât noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didnât get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.
You didnât speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoonâs lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.
Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.
That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after youâd disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.
After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.
Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.
*****
               You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadnât been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride â a company official ride, considering he couldnât drive â you hadnât been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parentsâ kitchen, remembering growing up.
Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.
You hadnât told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadnât pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.
Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasnât only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted â complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.
But your worries were still haunting you. Hadnât stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You werenât able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.
That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadnât come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.
Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted youâd ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.
So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.
You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.
You werenât sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.
It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldnât shake what he had said out of your mind.
Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?
The answer was easy. No, you didnât wish to be just that. Youâd never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.
Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.
Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldnât sleep over, or ask you to stay.
Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.
You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.
You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped youâd find inspiration by the time you were back home.
Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.
The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.
You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didnât pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.
Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.
It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.
You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.
You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.
âYou scared the shit out of me,â you told him, hand on your racing heart. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI was just out on a walk,â he informed you. âDidnât expect to run into you.â
He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. âYour parents are bothering you?â you teased, gently nudging him.
âNah,â he said, laughing. âIâve been songwriting since I got here? Canât get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought itâd help clear my mind.â
Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.
âCouldnât paint,â you admitted.
âYour parents are bothering you?â he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.
This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, âYouâre annoying.â
He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.
âYou know,â he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. âI was hoping we could hang out, while weâre here?â
He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. âArenât you afraid of your parents asking questions?â
âNot really,â he answered. âThey know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.â
Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. âIs that something that weâre supposed to be doing?â you enquired.
It seemed to take him by surprise. âWhat do you mean?â
You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldnât deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.
âWhat are we, exactly?â you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.
Namjoonâs eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. âWhat?â
The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. âItâs just⊠weâve only been hanging out for sex, correct?â
âIs that what it is for you?â he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.
You chuckled awkwardly. âTo be entirely honest, I donât do this. So no, Iâd hope itâs not that, butâŠâ you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. âYou havenât really made me feel like youâre in this for more than just sex.â
He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.
âI thought we were⊠dating?â he admitted. âI⊠Iâm sorry if I just⊠assumed?â
It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldnât even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. âOh?â
As you didnât say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. âUnless thatâs not what you want?â
In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.
âI meanâŠâ You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. âYes, thatâs what I want.â
He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. âGood. So youâll come over for dinner?â
This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. âWith just a few hours notice?â
âYeah?â He shrugged. âMy parents already know you, what does it change?â
And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?
You doubted thereâd be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoonâs parents. And turned out you were right â both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoonâs mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoonâs dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didnât scold his mother, didnât tell her to stop.
And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after youâd eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.
Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.
âSorry about that,â Namjoon apologized.
You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. âAbout what?â
He shrugged. âThe dinner. I didnât expect my parents to be weird about it.â
âThey werenât,â you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasnât particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, âIâm really happy I said yes. I missed them.â
He smiled, softly. âThey missed you too.â
A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.
âThe night is beautiful,â Namjoon said softly. âMakes it feel like we never left, you know?â
âLike it hasnât been thirteen years, right?â
He nodded. âThe weight of the years does feel lesser since weâve reconnected.â
His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.
âDo you think we were just right people, wrong time?â you asked. âIâve been thinking⊠itâs been so easy with you, since our date. Itâs strange to believe that it would be, no?â
âThe years havenât changed us as much as youâd imagined they would,â he agreed. âLikeâŠâ he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. âBTS came into my life after you. Iâd say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?â
You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.
âSometimes I wish I didnât have to be the leader,â he continued, revealing something you werenât sure he had said out loud to anyone before. âI wish I didnât have this weight on me and⊠in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didnât entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and⊠I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.â
His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.
âI felt lighter with you than Iâd felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think youâre right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.â
You didnât hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.
Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.
Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.
âHad I known that you were worried I wasnât into you like this, I wouldnât have had sex with you every time we hung out,â he admitted, softly.
That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.
âHey,â you let out. âItâs okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.â
He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.
âLetâs get you home,â he said. âI wouldnât want your parents to worry.â
âIâm an adult now,â you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.
He shrugged. âThey are still your parents; theyâll always worry for you.â
His words held truth, so you didnât resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didnât have to part with him for the night.
One day, you liked to believe you wouldnât have to part at all.
*****
               Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasnât like he had to keep them in check in private.
You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasnât all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasnât one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.
To your surprise, Sooah wasnât alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.
âHi,â the man politely said. âIâm glad youâve finally showed up.â
He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, âTo whom do I owe the pleasure?â
âI am Jo Jonghyuk,â he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. âHybe representative.â
You let out a nervous chuckle. âWhatâs bringing you here?
Sooah was the one to answer. âThereâs been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,â she informed you carefully. âThey are⊠all over the media this morning.â
A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. âExcuse me?â
You hadnât noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.
And your face was far too recognizable. You couldnât pretend it wasnât you, couldnât pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldnât stop your heart from racing in your chest.
âSo,â the man said. âWeâre aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.â He paused, watching you carefully. âBut we need to preserve their image. Iâm sure you can understand?â
Sooah saved you by replying. âWhat is that supposed to mean for Y/n?â
âNamjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,â the man offered as an explanation.
You cocked an eyebrow. âAnd what is it that Iâm going to be asked?â
âKeep the relationship behind closed doors.â The man motioned around you. âAs an artist, Iâm sure you understand how oneâs image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.â
It wasnât as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. âAnd this needed an early morning meeting?â
Youâd like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.
The man offered you a polite smile. âNo. Iâm here to have you sign an NDA.â
That made more sense. And still, it wasnât as bad as you expected it to be â it wasnât like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.
In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.
Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.
You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.
âIâm fucked,â you said.
She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. âYou are not. Thereâs no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I donât think this will affect the gallery.â
You shook your head. âYou donât understand.â You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didnât think you were ready to gaze at. âItâs just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know itâs me.â
âThen weâll use it as publicity.â
Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. âYou canât be serious.â
âYour art is beautiful,â she reminded you. âYouâve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?â She paused as if to give weight to her question. âItâs just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People wonât see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.â
You didnât want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldnât bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.
No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.
âDeep breaths,â Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. âI promise itâll be okay.â
âWhat if itâs not?â you asked. âWhat if I canât paint anymore?â
âYouâve been painting your whole life,â she reminded you. âYou wonât suddenly stop because of rumours about you.â
See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.
âShit.â
Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didnât say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. âItâs all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?â
She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadnât told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadnât changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.
And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.
Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.
And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alrightâŠ
Almost.
*****
               âThank you,â you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.
It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.
Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people werenât here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.
Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.
The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.
Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that â young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.
As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.
Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoonâs next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.
How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.
You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldnât wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.
It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.
Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.
âYes,â you answered them politely. âItâs currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if youâd like.â
The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. âHow expensive was the last bid?â
Even though this was supposed to be Sooahâs job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.
As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. âJust a moment.â
They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasnât like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.
You hadnât checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didnât even make any sense.
âHuh,â you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. âIt seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.â
That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.
The smaller woman winced. âHow high?â
â1.2 billion won,â you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.
âOh,â she said. âWe canât afford that.â
You offered them an apologetic smile. âI have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.â
The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. âOh, that would be lovely.â
They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that itâd soon burst. Evidently, you couldnât tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped theyâd hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.
When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, itâd leave you with much more money than you ever thought youâd own.
You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didnât expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didnât. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.
You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you werenât worth it.
It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.
I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, Iâll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, Iâm going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out
For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.
You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.
âBusy night,â Namjoon said as a greeting.
You let out a shaky breath. âYeah. Youâre on your way?â
âIâm outside,â he admitted. âJust waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume itâs locked?â
You nodded, even though he couldnât see you. âIâll come open for you.â
There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didnât, he said, âAre you okay?â
âYeah,â you lied, and cringed at yourself. You werenât a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. âJust tired.â
âWell, I hope youâre excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.â
Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didnât deserve it.
And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?
You highly doubted so.
Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldnât listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.
The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasnât a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.
You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved â could he still really just be that today?
Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.
âHey baby,â he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.
âHi,â you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.
âYouâve been busy?â he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.
But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldnât quite tell if it was still beating?
âYeah,â you answered. âIâve been working on a piece and⊠didnât see the time fly.â
He nodded understandingly. âOf course. Thatâs why I brought food.â
And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?
Could he be the solution?
âI think my album is going to be good,â he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. âYouâre going to love it.â
You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that youâd always loved whatever he made, even back then. âOf course.â
He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasnât quite reaching his eyes. He didnât say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.
âWhatâs on your mind?â he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.
Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?
A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?
âA lot,â you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. âQuite a lot.â
You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.
âYou know you can talk to me,â he gently said.
âI know.â
But you couldnât. You didnât want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.
âIâm sorry,â he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.
âWhat for?â you asked, genuinely wondering.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. âWe havenât really talked about the rumours.â
You hadnât. Hadnât even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, youâd hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after youâd seen articles about you in the press.
âYeah.â
âIs that whatâs on your mind?â he asked, and he turned his head towards you.
From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.
âIt might be,â you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, âIt is.â
âHow have you been feeling?â
You werenât sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didnât want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didnât want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.
âStressed,â you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldnât hurt him too much. âEspecially now that the anonymity is gone.â
He nodded. âI was expecting that to happen.â
You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.
âIâm sorry I took that away from you,â he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.
That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.
âYou didnât mean to,â you reassured him. Because it was the truth â you couldnât be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.
âBut itâs still my fault,â he added. âItâs because of me if the media has been after you.â
âItâs not because of you.â You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. âItâs not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.â
You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.
âPossibly,â he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.
To touch you, you assumed.
âPossibly,â he repeated. âBut itâs hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, itâs just me, both of these.â
You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words â he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.
Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.
âI know,â you said. âAnd thatâs why I donât believe itâs your fault. You didnât mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.â
âStill sucks that it did.â
Youâd never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didnât mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity â was it going to form a black hole between you and him?
âWhatâs that painting youâve been working on?â he asked.
You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that youâd never really visited in your art before.
âSomething to get my mind off the edge,â you admitted. âIâve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.â
Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, youâd look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldnât even think past the words.
âTo escape?â he prodded.
You nodded. âDonât you use music as an escape?â
âYeah,â he said, but somehow his voice was flat.
It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.
âSo I assume you must understand.â
He didnât answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.
âIf you need an escape from this,â he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, âmaybe we shouldnât be doing it at all.â Â
Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if youâd gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.
âI never said I needed an escape from us,â you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.
âAre you happy right now?â he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud â wouldnât they just break everything in their wake?
âIâm not sure.â You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, âIâm just so anxious.â
âIâve been making you feel anxious?â
You shook your head. âNo. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. Itâs so sudden.â
Namjoon didnât reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldnât quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding â because of course heâd understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though heâd known this life for years now.
âIâm sorry I brought this to you,â he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and youâd explode into a million tiny little shards. âI can take it away easily,â he claimed.
You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.
âHow?â
He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. âWe break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No oneâs going to be after you anymore if they think Iâm with someone else.â
The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.
âWhat?â
He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if heâd given up even before heâd gotten here. âIf being with me makes you so anxious,â he started. âAnd by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, Iâm just going to remove myself from the situation.â
Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than âwhat?â again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.
âI think itâs better for you if we break up,â Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. âI donât think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.â
Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.
âI donât want us to break up,â you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.
âI canât date someone that gets so anxious just because theyâre with me,â he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.
And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.
It felt unlike Namjoon. Youâd gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed whoâd be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldnât afford to put himself in a situation where heâd only get bad again.
The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew itâd be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldnât be as troubled, knew youâd be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.
You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone whoâd be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasnât you.
âNamjoonâŠâ
âItâs hard for me too, you know?â he added. âTo watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that Iâm the cause of it. Y/nâŠâ he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. âI havenât even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.â He shook his head. âEven before that. Iâm not sure youâve been happy since we started dating.â
âThatâs not true,â you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. âI was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame thatâs been throwing me off.â
You were relieved youâd finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.
But you knew you were going to let him go.
âThen we take a break,â he continued. âI donât want to be the source of something negative in someoneâs life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when itâs safe, we can try again.â
Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.
âIf that is what you want, Iâm not going to force you to stay with me,â you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.
He scoffed. âWhat I want is just impossible. This is just second best.â
âBreaking up with me is second best?â you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. âItâs that easy for you?â
He frowned, meeting your gaze again. âWho said it was easy?â
âYouâre the one that claims itâs a good thing. Second best.â
At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. âThis is not what I meant.â
Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldnât watch him anymore. Couldnât gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that theyâd become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.
A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.
âThen leave, Joon,â you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. âLetâs take this break, letâs see if itâs better for both of us.â
The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didnât fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.
But werenât you giving up on him just as much?
That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.
Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.
*****
Thirteen years ago
               You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.
Youâd heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable â everyone loved Yuri.
Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her â you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.
To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? Youâd kill him for it.
So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already â partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parentsâ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.
Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.
Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if theyâd get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.
âWhatâs wrong?â he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.
âWhatâs wrong?â you repeated, before scoffing. âWhy did I have to hear from Kim Haru that youâre hanging out with Jeon Yuri?â
His brows furrowed. âWhatâs wrong with hanging out with her?â
Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. âEverything? Sheâs just a bitch.â
âExcuse me, what?â Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. âYou told me to never call a girl a bitch and now youâre doing it?â
You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. âItâs not the same thing.â
He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.
âDonât you fucking condescend me right now.â
âDonât you fucking curse at me.â
âNo seriously,â you continued. âI donât want a guy whoâs only after popular girls.â
âI am not,â Namjoon drawled. âIâm tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.â
As a matter of fact, you did not. âYou never told me.â
âBecause you never listen to me,â he spat. âYouâre always just drawing your fucking drawings as if thatâll lead you anywhere in life.â
âKim Namjoon!â you burst. âAnd youâre always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. Youâre a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.â
He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. âYouâll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, youâll be so fucking sorry.â
âI donât think I will. I donât even think Iâll remember you.â
It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. âYouâre breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?â
âIâm breaking up with you because youâre a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?â
He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. âOh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe thereâs a reason why I didnât want to tell you I was tutoring her.â
You scowled. âWhy?â
âBecause I knew youâd throw a jealousy fit. You think youâre entitled all of my time.â
âFuck you,â you growled. âFuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.â
âBoyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.â
Your gaze slightly widened. âWhat?â
âIâm not your boyfriend anymore,â he said, adding your name like it was an insult. âGet over me already.â
âDo you even love me?â you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.
But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.
âNot when you get mad at me for no valid reason.â
His words hit like a slap to the face. âI just donât like her. Canât you tutor someone else?â
âNo.â
The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, âThen perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.â
âBecause I donât respect you?â he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.
âClearly not.â
âYouâre right then,â he continued. âI donât respect you. I donât love you either, apparently, so Iâm done.â
âJoonâŠâ
âNo, Maehwa,â he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. âYou donât say my name like that.â He slowly shook his head, seething. âAs a matter of fact, I donât want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I donât want someone that acts like a fucking child.â
âYou act like a child all the time,â you interrupted, but he ignored you.
He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didnât turn to look at you. Instead, he said, âIâll kill you if you follow me.â
You scoffed. âOh please, as if youâd ever hurt me.â
âIâm serious, Iâll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.â
It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that â enormous in its drama. So you replied, âI hate you more than I hate anything in this world.â
He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.
He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.
âââââ
Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks
#emotions of the soul#namjoon smut#namjoon angst#namjoon x reader#namjoon x you#namjoon fic#namjoon#knj smut#knj angst#knj x you#knj x reader#knj fic#knj#kim namjoon angst#kim namjoon smut#kim namjoon x reader#kim namjoon x you#kim namjoon fic#btswritersclub#life goes on series
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âšShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 30/12âš

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then youâll have to check the whole post if itâs answered here, if itâs not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~
@pandorainabox ha chiesto: Hope this isn't a dumb question,but do you plan to/already are posting the bio parents ah anywhere where it can be viewed all in one piece? With the between posts in tumblr,it gets confusing and I still don't quite know how to navigate it so I was curious if I could binge read it anywhere all in one clean read? (I constantly want to re-read it lmao,it brings me so much joy,its so damn cute!!) Anyway apologies for the random question!! I love your work,you're doing so good and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day/night! Thank you so much for taking your time to read and respond if you do so!! đđđ
i mean⊠I THINK the masterpost is the easiest way to read it for now (and once you read one chapter you press âNEXTâ at the end of it.)
if I would put it, letâs say, on Webtoon (which I canât) it kind of would be the same thing. A list if chapters, when you click on one it opens the chapter with the 10-20 panels and then you click the ânextâ to go to the next one.
i donât think putting all chapters from one part would be nice since it would be a super duper long list of panels (and the page would take a lot to load with so many medias) and one Part of the comic contains multiple arcs.
iâm open to suggestions though!
@robinpika ha chiesto: I was just wondering why is wukong kaiju form unstable? What inspired you to go that route
it was an headcanon of my of why we never see it in the show, even though it is present in JTTW AND war forms are⊠well normal in LMK, so I figured he must have a reason why he didnât use it, considering it could have spare them a lot of trouble giving its power.
@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: I can't find the option to ask anonymously oofâ Enyway this is Tumblr and that's what I'm here for. Ever made a design for a Red son and MK kid? From your AU I mean (ignoring every nature law for a second). Also, where did you got that name for MK from? Is something from Jurney to the west? Mainly thanks to your AU I am going to try and read that book (has more them a 1000 pages :') )
we all subconsciously agreed that the spicynoodle lovechild is Kai from lego ninjago and MK real name is his name in the chinese dub.
@avencaeheng ha chiesto: Can you reccomend any websites to watch lmk? đ
You can find MOST of the episodes on youtube. BUT you need also the specials to understand the story. If I link you a site in 2 weeks it will be down. The best is that you join the Lego Monkie Kid Fanspace discord. They have links to see the show and they update them every once in a while.
@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Another silly headcanon <3 Since MK unlocked heâs monkey form he started teething like a baby monkey but⊠adult. I donât know how baby monkey teethe but when dogs teethe they get a lot more bite-y and the bites hurt a lot more than before teething. I can imagineMK getting a lot more bitey with things, like chewing food longer then needed be and maybe when heâs play fighting with the baby monkeys he bites one and it chirps and Wukong is like: ! One of my children is in need! And he discovers MK is teething and does something idk yet. After having given my evidence⊠Do you think this would happen? Does MK have fangs in his human form like how some people draw him?
hi! I guess he did have a period in which he had a little teething.
no, his human form doesnât have fangs, because his human form is just a kind of glamour/shapeshift. In the AU the monkey form became his normal form (since it always has been his original form to begin with)
toomanylegos ha chiesto: Hey, I just want to say I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach comic and the beautiful art with it. I went through nasal surgery on the 19th, and seeing an update from you really helped soothe my nerves about it, so thank you! I can't wait to see more updates throughout my recovery :D burry-penguin ha chiesto: As a spicynoodle shipper I love your work sm and what ur doing for this community KEEPING US FEED FOR DAYSSS!! đ„đ đ„đ Youâre so amazing and keep doing what youâre doing because youâre a damn good story teller and artist. Youâll go so far someday! Youâve helped put a smile on my face on my best and worst days just from seeing each new update and going absolutely fuckin feral over it and I thank you for that đ«¶ imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Not really a ask. I would just like to say I inhaled your AU comic like a vacum cleaner in less them a day, also big fan of the art style. Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm recovering from a toxic relationship and the shadowpeach bio parents au is helping me think through everything ,, The love these monkies show me how relationships are supposed to make you feel good... thank u
turtlewearingclothes ha chiesto: Howdy! I just wanted to say thank you for making your amazing comic, and being the reason I got into Lego Monkie Kid. I've heard of the show, but I never watched it. Then I came across your comic like, 2-3 weeks ago? And after binging it, I decided to watch the show, and now I'm obsessed lol. Thank you!
AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!!!â„ïžâ„ïžâ„ïž
@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hey so I recently binged your LMK comic because I absolutely fell in love with your ISAT x COTL comic and knew anything you made would be amazing. Iâve never seen LMK though so Iâm sure I lost some of the context (it was still so good though, Iâm really rooting for everything to work out for the characters!) But I decided to give the actual series a try because of the comic! And here was where I planned on writing you a message after a few episodes to thank you for getting me into a new series, but⊠Iâm on episode one. I only watched the intro. Dude. IM ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. THE ANIMATION! THE STYLE! THE CHARACTERS! Iâm so so excited to watch more (which Iâm gonna do now!) but thank you so much for bringing this series to my attention!!!
ahaha welcome to the club!, now you can enjoy both comics!
@therivergirl ha chiesto: I remember back in the beggining of eclipse arc you mentioned that Mac feels insecure about his body being part of the reason he's hesitant to take of his clothes even in front of Wukong and it being part of the reason (aside from basic decency) that Wukong looked away. And now in this part Mac appears butt-naked to help Wukong out, adding yet another layer of vulnerability...gah! (Maybe I should finally watch LMK because I feel I would be doubly obsessed with this comic then...)
For Mac being exposed was the last of his issues considering that what he was seeing was Wukong at his lowest and most naked. Now excuse me while I cry.
@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You probably know ChangâEâs story from LMK, but did you know there is a second version of her story that I like better? In the second version ChangâE and her husband(I forgot his name), are getting used to living as mortals after being kicked out of heaven. But someone hears of the immortal elixir they have and try to steel it while ChangâEâs husband is out hunting. After getting beat up a bit she decides to drink the elixir so the robber couldnât get it. But she instead went to the moon so she could be closer to her lover. Her husband dies because heâs still mortal, and ChangâE is left be herself. I have silly little headcanon the day MK and the others went to the moon was her and her husbandâs anniversary đ Bye <3
AH. OK.
Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you think that wukong and macaque act like cats?
as in they would purr? I moslty think Wukong wants to cuddle and stroke his head on Mac neck like a cat, while Mac is that one cat that sometime is annoyed when people touch him but eventually let them do it.
Anonimo ha chiesto: âšHear me out :3âš MK can hear the past. He heard the fight of of prentice and held his eye like he was getting hurt by Wukong and not Macaque. So now picture this: MK has a vision again, his this time it is about how the monk used the circlet on him :3
AHAH. NOW HE CANâT SEE TANG THE SAME WAY AGAIN. FUCK.
Anonimo ha chiesto: When I first found your comic in your TikTok account, I thought it was something very silly... How very VERY wrong I was.(As I get shot 57 times.) I hope you are taking very good care of yourself because when I downloaded Tumblr to keep myself updated to your comics(which was somewhere around 13-16 December probably) there are a LOT of panels. I enjoyed the newest and most recent parts of the shadowpeach bio parent au and can't wait for the next!!! Don't work yourself to the bone too much! Remember to take mental and physical breaks.
AGHDMHSMFYS THANK YOU!!!
Anonimo ha chiesto: Are there others who flirt with MK ? He looks good, is very powerful and has a sunshine personality. I bet there are others who are interested in him
I guess there havenât been any for NOW.
Anonimo ha chiesto: After reading the post about swk's circlet, I srsly want him to look at mk and say "oh, hey we're matching!" ... "OH SHIT WHY ARE WE'RE MATCHING?!"
NOOOOOO!!
@delightfulcupquakequeen ha chiesto: Hey there!!! Been awhile sincenI've written an ask, just wanted to send love and being greatful that you are doig this amazing AU!!!! Appreciating ever pannel you make and gosh dammit hitting me right in the korokoro!!!! Keep being your fabulous self!!! Until next time!
THANK YOUUUUU
@l1br4rycrypt1d ha chiesto: Feel free to ignore this if it's spoilers for the comic, but are we gonna get to see the Gold Star of Venus? Just curious, since you reblogged the meme post that mentioned him during the takeover
There will be a small space for them as well, yes.
@kaothedemon ha chiesto: Fun fact, while I doubt Pigsy has all of Zhu Bajie's powers, his ancestor did have a kaiju form, which he could use if he ate a fuckton I'm sure it's not gonna appear in the story, but the idea of Heaven having to deal with 3 Kaiju dads (+ theoretically a sworn uncle) is extremely funny to me (picture courtesy of OSP's latest JTTW episode cause even when I read the book there weren't any illustrations of this)
I SAW THAT!! Man now they must add it to the show. Yeah I don't think he has ALL of Zhu Bajie's powers (I don't think he would ever want to have them) but it would be interesting if it was a high stake situation
@roseltelle ha chiesto: I think Macaque would actually enjoy working/ volunteering at the playhouse specifically doing shadow plays. But he does regular plays as well. His favorite days are when classes of children come in for field trips. Wukong often paints the backdrops, scenery, and other items for plays. They both enjoy their hobbies.
Awwwww yeah I think Macaque would totally love that.
@lmk4ever ha chiesto: Can you imagine Wukong just being out of it after he distracted the celestials for too long in his war form?
I think that as soon as he sees Macaque again he immediately switch back and become behaved again.
@peach-fury ha chiesto: I think I know the answer but theoretically... Who's war form/kajiu is stronger Wukongs or Macaque's and how would it go? I don't know it started as a thought. Now I can't stop laughing.
Wukong's is stronger.
blbllblblblll ha chiesto: do you know the pronunciation of xiaotian? ive been stuck on how to say his name for so long đ
I know that the "Qi" is pronunced "Chi" and I think "xiao" is pronunced the same as you would read it, while I THINK the "t" in "tian" is more of a mix between a t and a c/k? I aint chinese and the way I pronounce things or read them is probably different from u cause I'm italian.
eerieqloss ha chiesto: Okay question, is Wukong's war form bigger/taller than MK's?
it's taller.
@elliboom ha chiesto: I was wondering, will Erlang Shen ever appear in the Shadowpeach parent series? (And questa domanda la scrivo in italiano giusto per levarmi unâaltra curiositĂ in futuro, preferisci che le domande vengono scritte solo in inglese o vanno bene anche in italiano? So che non ci sono molti italiani ad essere fan di LMK e JTTW, posso capire la scelta di scriverli solo in inglese per rispetto e far capire ai altri fan, e generalmente per scrivere le domande uso google translate, perchĂ© faccio pena con la grammatica inglese, mi scuso se in futuro farĂČ domande con qualche errore đ„Čđ„Č)
Si apparirĂ . Manda pure in italiano shalla ahah.
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rehab. 32.
Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader
Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.
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A/n: OOF so now we're kind of going to dive on Bucky's psyche and introduce a semi-active character :3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!
This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!
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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares
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Author: ScariusAquarius
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rehab masterlist. / rehab masterlist 2. chapter 30 / chapter 31
"You're incredibly lucky that Mr. Rogers vouched for you, James. There was a warrant out for your arrest for missing your court-mandated therapy sessions."
Bucky was instantly annoyed, his frown heavy on his face as he pursed his lips and gripped the phone within his hand as Dr. Christina Raynor damn-near berated him. His back was tense, and he could already foresee himself hanging up on her.
"Yeah, well I was a bit busy."
"You going to tell me about it or is this a social call that I'm going to have to hang up for?"
Bucky's jaw clenched, and he rolled his eyes before rubbing his face in exasperation.
"No, you don't have to hang up."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Bucky began to wonder if she was actually going to hang up on him out of spite. Then, Bucky heard Dr. Raynor sharply exhale.
"Alright, then talk. I'm not going to play twenty-questions to get to the bottom of what the hell is going on and why you're avoiding therapy."
Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he quietly spoke.
"There's a girl...from HYDRA. Steve and I recovered her from an abandoned facility."
Dr. Raynor let out a breath through her nose, disbelief obvious as she asked.
"Is she the reason you've been dodging me for weeks now or this just your latest excuse?"
Bucky became defensive, snapping slightly as his vibranium hand clenched.
"She's not an excuse."
Dr. Raynor paused, and Bucky furrowed his brow before her voice came through the phone again.
"Alright, then who exactly is she?"
"She was like me."
The silence was palpable, Bucky becoming on edge, and Dr. Raynor began to speak again-intrigue and a softer tone to her voice as she asked.
"You mean a Winter Soldier?"
Bucky physically nodded, his voice cracking just the slightest as he replied.
"Yeah. She's remembering things now, but I don't know how to help rehabilitate her. I...I don't know if I'm making things worse or better."
Dr. Raynor was quiet for a moment before she pointed out.
"You're not her therapist, James."
Bucky bit his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her, and he stated firmly.
"I know that-"
Dr. Raynor cut him off, her voice becoming firm and chastising.
"Do you? It sounds to me as if you're trying to take some type of responsibility for this when it has nothing to do with you."
Bucky grit his teeth, insisting.
"That's the problem, Doc, because it does. I helped them capture her. I was there."
"You were a prisoner too."
Bucky finally snapped, slamming his hand down against the table.
"But I still did it."
Bucky could hear her pen click, and he became exasperated.
"Oh, great, again with the notebook. You're seriously going to do that right now?"
Dr. Raynor didn't say anything at first before her annoyed tone finally came through the phone.
"You seriously want to help her? Stop trying to merge your trauma with hers. That's not support. It's codependency. You're letting her healing be your redemption arc, and that's not what she needs from the sounds of it."
Bucky was silent, glaring down at the metal of the table where he had dented it after slamming his fist down onto it. Popping the dent out quietly, Dr. Raynor continued.
"If you want to help, then you need to help in a way that isn't just to make yourself feel better about the past. Start being honest with yourself, James. Why do you want to help her so bad?"
Bucky was quiet still, choosing not to respond right away. The silence became heavy and like a tripwire before Bucky finally settled on hissing out.
"You know, you really are the worst."
"Well, you're entitled to your opinion, even if you do use it deflect from the actual problem."
Bucky groaned before he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, resting his elbows on the table as he rubbed his chin.
"Listen, I don't know. Maybe I thought that if I helped her that I could make up for what I didn't stop...what I could have prevented."
"So it is about you."
It stung a lot more than Bucky wanted to admit. He stayed quiet again, but Dr. Raynor used the moment to continue speaking.
"You can't use this woman to heal yourself. That's not how that works. She needs to be able to become who she wants to be, not who you want her to be. That's her choice, and I think before you try to heal someone else, you should try to heal yourself. The only thing you're going to do is chain your guilt to her."
Bucky's jaw clenched, offended and becoming angry, and Dr. Raynor finally stated.
"She needs someone who isn't going to use her to rewrite their past for the sake of penance."
Bucky finally smacked the phone down, the phone shattering, and he breathed heavily. His licked his lips, holding his head within his hands as he glared down at the shattered phone, and he was caught off-guard by the sound of Sam's voice.
"You really had it out for that thing, didn't you?"
"For fuck's sake, anybody but you right now."
Sam snorted, holding his hand to his chest in mock offense.
"And here I thought we were finally forming something special together."
Bucky gave Sam an annoyed look before shaking his head and looking away. Sam sat down in front of Bucky, raising his brow a bit as he looked at Bucky with a questioning look.
"Iâm not saying I was eavesdroppingâokay, maybe I wasâbut hear me out. You want to help her, thatâs clear. But youâve got to let her set the pace. Let her show you what she needs. Youâve done great so far, Buck, but push too hard and youâll send her right back into that cage.â
Bucky paused for a moment before looking at Sam with a serious look, crossing his arms.
"Okay, what would you do then?"
Sam heaved out a breath, staring down at the shattered phone and joking.
"Well, I certainly wouldn't smash my phone, that's for sure."
Bucky glared at Sam, jutting his head forward a bit, and Sam chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright. If I was in your shoes, I would ask her what she needs. How can I give back her ability to choose? You know better than anybody that choice didn't exist with HYDRA."
Bucky frowned, confusion flashing across his face as he stated.
"But I have been...I've been letting her choose what she wants to do."
Sam gave Bucky a nod, a smirk coming across his face.
"Alright, then keep doing exactly that. Don't overthink it, man. Let her lead you instead of you trying to lead her. Let her remember on her own time. You'll retraumatize her by trying to speed up the process, Bucky."
Bucky mulled over Sam's words for a moment, glancing down at the shattered phone on the table before he asked quietly; a moment of vulnerability coming over the man.
"Are you sure that I'm doing this right?"
Sam was quiet for a moment before he responded, his voice gentle; almost brotherly as he replied to Bucky.
"Nobody is gonna be perfect with this kind of stuff. You're doing your best, and that's all that you can do. Just keep letting her set the pace and be there when she needs you. You're not her savior, you're her ally. She just needs a friend. If you can settle for that, then you'll be fine."
Bucky was quiet for a moment before he muttered.
"I'm not thanking you."
Sam laughed, shrugging his shoulders a bit.
"I wasn't looking for it. I originally came here to tell you that (Y/n) asked Shuri about training."
Bucky's head popped up, and he gave Sam a confused and surprised look.
"Training?"
Sam's face became a bit serious as he nodded.
"Yeah. Shuri told her that she wasn't sure if it was smart, but (Y/n) was pretty insistent."
Bucky stood up, Sam standing with him, and the men both traversed to Shuri's lab where (Y/n) was standing in front of Shuri with pursed lips while picking at the hem of her shirt.
Shuri was holding her tablet to her chest, shooting her gaze to Bucky and Sam with a sigh of relief. Before she could greet the two, however, (Y/n) had already turned to Bucky and stated.
"I want to train."
If Bucky hadn't been as observant, he was certain he would have missed the wild gleam within her eyes. Bucky became concerned, asking with a tilt of his head.
"Train? Why do you want to train?"
(Y/n) shrunk in on herself, wringing her hands slightly as her eyes darted away, and she murmured softly.
"I just...want to."
Before Bucky could say anything, Sam's voice made Bucky and Shuri shoot their gazes at him as if he was crazy.
"I'll train with you."
(Y/n)'s eyes looked at Sam with a surprised expression before she nodded almost excitedly.
"Okay."
Bucky gave Sam a confused look, but Sam simply stated, pointing at the man.
"Let her set the pace."
In no time, Sam and (Y/n) were standing in front of each other, (Y/n)'s hands clenched as she tried to resist wringing her hands. Sam was stretching and rolling his shoulders, giving (Y/n) a friendly smile as he stated.
"Alright, nothing to fancy. You set the pace, okay?"
(Y/n) nodded a little, and she glanced down at her feet before glancing at Sam. He got into position, his hands raised, and (Y/n) immediately slipped into form-her movements sharp and quick as she got into form.
She was quiet, assessing the man in front of her. She didn't dare to make a move as Sam circled around her, her ears pricking as she listened to the way the mat beneath his bare feet crinkled under his weight. The second she heard the his feet launch from the mat, she spun and kicked, Sam immediately catching and throwing her leg away.
(Y/n) retaliated by spinning and ducking, punching him in the stomach with enough force to throw him down onto the mat. Sam let out an oof as he laid on the mat, and (Y/n) immediately backed away, her shoulders squaring a bit. Sam rolled and stood up, laughing lightly.
"Alright, I see what you're throwing down."
(Y/n) pursed her lips again, and Sam charged at her again. Her eyes widened slightly before they narrowed, and when Sam threw a punch, she ducked out of the way before grabbing his wrist. He went to knee her in the stomach, but she maneuvered out of the way before she slid behind him, yanking his wrist.
Sam spun and yanked back before throwing a jab at her shoulder, and (Y/n) winced before freezing as the pain bloomed within the spot that Sam had jabbed.
Metallic. Cold. Blood.
"ĐŃĐ” Ńаз! ĐĄĐŸĐČĐ”ŃŃĐ”ĐœŃŃĐČĐŸ ОлО ŃĐŒĐ”ŃŃŃ!" (again/once again. perfection or death)
His cruel blue eyes staring her down.
And that fucking mask.
(Y/n) became angry. She couldn't help it; the sensation of her hackles rising and her blood pumping and rushing through her ears making her stance become defensive and harsh, and when Sam finally charged at her again, (Y/n) broke.
With a precise and sharpness that hadn't been there before; a vengeance that came with the Soldier, she grabbed the material of his shirt before launching him across the room. When Sam let out a shout, (Y/n) froze in horror.
Sam groaned gently, rubbing the back of his neck, and he gazed at (Y/n) in surprise. The image of Sam before her blurred as flashes of the soldier's face merged with his own, and (Y/n) began to shake; her fists painfully clenched. Sam seemed to notice the shift before he raised his hands in surrender, taking a knee to show (Y/n) that he no longer wanted to spar.
"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe."
She was hyperventilating, but his soothing voice was helping; his image no longer blurring, and (Y/n) blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes. She began to apologize, Russian and English slipped together.
"ĐĐœĐ” жалŃ. I...I didn't mean it. ĐŻ ĐœĐ” Ń
ĐŸŃДл ŃŃĐŸĐłĐŸ ЎДлаŃŃ, ĐșĐ»ŃĐœŃŃŃ." (i'm sorry/i didn't mean to do this, i swear.)
She began to cry, and Sam moved in closer, not daring to touch her in case he set her off again.
"Hey, hey, it's alright. I know you didn't mean to...though, I wasn't expecting to get my ass handed to me."
From outside of the training room, Bucky's fists were clenched. Shuri was also uncomfortable, pursing her lips as she stated quietly.
"It seemed as though she slipped back into the Winter Soldier despite the programming being gone. I think we need to run a scan just to be sure."
Bucky didn't know how to respond, worried and concerned for both Sam and (Y/n) as he watched Sam carefully calm her down. She had collapsed to her knees, face down onto the ground and hands splayed on either side of her head, and the image haunted him.
She was submitting for punishment.
He knew the position well-could feel his own body bending and twisting as he submitted within his cold cell. Bucky's jaw began to clench so hard that his teeth ached, and Shuri asked him gently, her hand raised to unlock the training room.
"Should we step in?"
Even though Bucky wanted to rush into the room, he knew that Sam had it handled. He was patient and gentle, allowing (Y/n) the choice to choose comfort or solitude, and Bucky pursed his lips.
"No. Sam has it handled."
In the training room, Sam was sitting beside (Y/n) as she stayed bowed, her fists clenching as she tried to calm her racing heart. Sam was quiet for a moment before he asked her softly.
"Talk to me. What did you see?"
(Y/n) choked slightly on her words before she whispered.
"I saw him..."
"Saw who?"
She sniffled before revealing.
"The Soldier."
Sam glanced at Bucky, noting the way the man's eyes glazed over at the words that slipped from her lips, and Sam gave (Y/n) his attention again as she spoke, slowly rising from her submissive pose.
"I...I was weak...and he would train me...he was always better. Always faster. I could not live up to his image. I was a failure...broken...I was sent away for refinement...and then I woke up to...them...in my cryostasis pod."
She sniffled before pleading softly.
"I know...I know it isn't him anymore. I know he's...Bucky now. I just...I wanted to train...I wanted to make the memory go away."
She began to cry and apologize again, her shoulders trembling harshly, and Sam sighed slightly before he comforted.
"You don't have to apologize. For you, all of those memories are fresh and recent. You're still living in those moments. You're not expected to be a new you so fast."
She shook her head, choking on her words between sobs and quickened breaths as (Y/n) replied.
"I'm still hurting people. I'm...I'm still a soldier. I don't want to be this anymore. I don't want to be HYDRA anymore."
(Y/n) was shouting, angry and panicked, and she was clutching the mat so hard that it ripped beneath her grip.
"I don't want to be HYDRA anymore! I want to be me again! I want to be me! I want to be me!"
She sobbed, (Y/n)'s voice breaking as she began to let it all out, and Sam was quiet, allowing her to feel her pain. After a moment, Sam quietly stated to her.
"I know you do. You've been through hell, been made to be a weapon that doesn't feel anything, and now that you're allowed to feel and remember...it's scary."
Her shoulders were tight, nails digging into the mat further, and she clenched her jaw as she tried to stifle the sobs the best she could; whines and sobs still passing through her clenched teeth. Sam continued carefully after allowing her another moment to cry.
"You're not HYDRA...not anymore. You're (Y/n) (L/n), and that's something they can't take away from you. Not anymore."
(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered slightly before she whimpered softly, looking at Sam.
"I want to be happy...like Bucky."
Samâs gaze softened as he watched (Y/n)âs face carefully; her fragile words hanging in the air. He exhaled slowly, leaning forward just enough to make sure she could hear him clearly, his tone gentle but filled with conviction.
âYou will be. Youâve got to remember, Bucky didnât wake up one day happy. He had to work for it. And even now, heâs still working through his own pain from HYDRA. But heâs found his peace because he chose to fight for it, and thatâs something that you can do too.â
(Y/n) sniffled, gazing at Sam for a long moment before she swallowed, trying to calm her breaths. Sam encouraged her gently, demonstrating for her.
"There you go, just breathe. Watch me, alright? Breathe in and out."
(Y/n) began to breathe with Sam, her eyes watching him closely as he breathed with her. After a few moments of breathing, (Y/n) was no longer crying, and Sam offered her a gentle smile.
"See? That wasn't so bad."
(Y/n) nodded slightly, and Sam stated seriously then, watching the way her lip continued to tremble for a moment.
"It isn't going to happen overnight...but if you keep choosing to be you, then it's going to get a lot easier. Everyone wants that for you and is rooting for you-especially Bucky."
(Y/n) glanced at him before asking softly.
"Really?"
Sam nodded, crossing his legs as he smiled slightly.
"Steve was the one that fought for you at first, you know? Everyone didn't think it was going to be possible, but that damn man is as stubborn as Buck. Bucky didn't even want to help rehabilitate you at first. Not because he didn't want to, but maybe he was afraid...but I think he saw himself in you just enough that he chose to stay."
(Y/n) bit her lip before she looked away, saying softly.
"Will it still be worth it...being me...after I remember?"
Sam was quiet for a moment, mulling over his words before he offered gently.
"I don't know, but I think it's worth giving it a try."
(Y/n) slowly nodded before she wiped her tears, and Sam stood up, saying to the woman as she slowly stood up on wobbly legs.
"Don't force yourself to remember. Just take it at your own pace...and if you wanna train again, do it because you actually want to, not because you think that you have to."
(Y/n) gave Sam a look of understanding and the two of them exited the training room. At the sight of Shuri and Bucky, (Y/n) looked down at the ground in shame, whispering as her shoulders fell.
"I...am sorry."
Shuri gave (Y/n) a sad look of understanding.
"It is alright, Isithunzi, but Sam is right. If you push yourself, you will only hurt yourself more."
(Y/n) averted her gaze from Shuri before slowly glancing at Bucky, who seemed unsure of what to say. His eyes were on her, almost emotionless, and (Y/n) felt put-on-the-spot. However, her eyes widened slightly when Bucky slowly approached her, and she froze when he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
"I'm so sorry."
Bucky whispered, sadness oozing from his lips, and he tightened his hold a bit on her. (Y/n) wasn't sure what to do, but the feeling of his warm body relaxed her, and he whispered again.
"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you..."
Just when Bucky was going to pull away, he froze; his eyes widened at the feeling of her arms coming up around him. Her movements were slow and unsure, and Bucky almost cried at the sensation.
"I...am learning."
Was all she could say, but for Bucky?
That was all he needed.
Holding her tighter, Bucky whispered softly.
"I'm still learning too...we can do it together, yeah?"
"Okay."
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STORY NOTES: The scene opens with Bucky on the phone with Dr. Raynor, his court-appointed therapist. Raynor presses Bucky for information, and Bucky reveals (Y/n) existence. Bucky tells Raynor that he doesn't know how to help her, and Raynor tells Bucky that he isn't (Y/n)'s therapist. Raynor tells Bucky that it sounds as though he is trying to take responsibility of her situation, and she tells him that if he wants to help (Y/n) to stop trying to use her as his 'redemption arc'. After a bit more back and forth, Bucky reveals that he wanted to help her to make up for what he did, and Raynor reprimands him by telling Bucky that (Y/n) needs someone who isn't going to use her. Bucky becomes angry, shattering the phone, and Sam makes an appearance. He reveals that he was eavesdropping, and instead of chastising him like Raynor, Sam tells him to let (Y/n) heal at her own pace. Bucky asks Sam what he would do in his position, and Sam tells him that he would allow (Y/n) to choose what she wants to do and to let her lead him instead of Bucky leading (Y/n). Bucky becomes vulnerable, asking if he is helping (Y/n) the right way, and Sam comforts him by telling him that nobody is going to be perfect at helping someone heal.
Sam then reveals that (Y/n) asked Shuri about training, and Bucky is surprised. Bucky and Sam go to Shuri's lab where (Y/n) is still insisting on training, and at the sight of Bucky, (Y/n) tells him that she wants to train. When he asks, (Y/n) just states that she wants to. Before Shuri or Bucky can disagree, Sam tells (Y/n) that he will train with her. When they get into the training room, Sam tells (Y/n) that she can set the pace, and training begins. At first, training is normal until Sam hits her in the shoulder, which sends her into a flashback of training with The Winter Soldier. the flashback makes her angry, and when Sam charges at her, (Y/n) slips into her Winter Soldier persona for just a moment, throwing him across the room. She is instantly horrified and apologetic, assuming a submissive pose as she is sent into a panic attack. On the other side of the glass, Shuri points out that (Y/n) slipped into her Winter Soldier persona, and questions if her and Bucky should step in. Bucky refuses, telling Shuri that Sam has it handled.
In the training room, Sam asks (Y/n) to talk to him, and (Y/n) reveals that she saw the Winter Soldier. She tells Sam that Bucky would train her when he was still the Winter Soldier, and when she couldn't surpass him, she was sent to the facility where she was found in Chapter One for refinement. She acknowledges that Bucky is no longer the Winter Soldier, but she wanted to train to 'make the memory go away'. When she begins to apologize again, Sam comforts her by telling her that she isn't expected to heal overnight. She becomes angry again, exclaiming to Sam that she wants to be her again, and Sam reassures her that he knows. (Y/n) tells him that she wants to be happy like Bucky, and Sam tells her that Bucky also didn't become 'happy' overnight. He pauses to help (Y/n) breathe, and when she calms down, Sam reveals that everyone is rooting for her, especially Bucky. He tells her that Steve was the one who fought for her, but Bucky was the one who stayed. He then tells her to train when she wants to, not because she feels like she has to.
When Sam and (Y/n) exit the training room and (Y/n) sees both Shuri and Bucky, she becomes ashamed and apologizes. Shuri is understanding, but tells her not to push herself or she will just end up hurting herself, and (Y/n) understands. Bucky is quiet, however, and (Y/n) becomes worried before she is shocked when Bucky embraces her. Bucky apologizes to her and tells her that he never meant to hurt her. (Y/n) simply replies that she is 'learning' and Bucky is reassured and tells her that he is also learning, and that they can both learn together. End Scene.
TRANSLATIONS:
ĐŃĐ” Ńаз! ĐĄĐŸĐČĐ”ŃŃĐ”ĐœŃŃĐČĐŸ ОлО ŃĐŒĐ”ŃŃŃ! - again/once again. perfection or death
ĐĐœĐ” Đ¶Đ°Đ»Ń - I'm sorry
ĐŻ ĐœĐ” Ń
ĐŸŃДл ŃŃĐŸĐłĐŸ ЎДлаŃŃ, ĐșĐ»ŃĐœŃŃŃ - I didn't mean to do this, I swear
Isithunzi - Xhosa word for shade/shadow
TAGLIST: @buckvoidsyy @chonkybonky @seemsxsketchy @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane @notsostrangerthing @thenameswinter99 @bumblebeebutter @torntaltos
#bucky barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x reader#winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#the winter soldier#winter soldier#marvel#marvel x reader#captain america#captain america x reader
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đ€
Wolfstar coffee shop au
i LOVE wolfstar so here you go arc!
~~~~~
The bell above the door tinkled as someone walked in.
Remus didnât know who it was, since he was trying to get the stupid cap on the stupid coffee cup.
He whooped under his breath as the lid finally snapped on, and he handed it off to Lily.Â
He looked up, ready to help the next customer, when he caught sight of the absolutely gorgeous man standing in front of the register.
He had deep black curls, and stormy eyes, and the rings. Oh, his rings. Remus was going to pass out.
âUm, hello,â Remus stuttered, blushing. He cursed himself internally for acting like a besotted teenage girl before smiling. âWhat would you like to drink?â
âWhat do you recommend?â the stranger asked.Â
âWe have a good Vietnamese cold brew?â Remus said, racking his brain for other things that the man might like.
âOoh, that sounds good.â Mystery Man grinned at Remus, looking for all the world like an excited puppy,
âOkay, so. One Vietnamese cold brew?â Remus asked. âWill that be all?â
âYep.â
âGreat. Thatâll be $4.68,â Remus said, tapping at the machine in front of him. âCan I get a name for your order?â
âMy nameâs Sirius,â the man said.
âHow the hell do you spell that?â Remus asked, frowning.
âLike the star,â Sirius sighed. âIâd give you one of the many business cards I keep in my pocket for these types of occasions, but James stole them all.â
âSo I take it that this happens often?â Remus asked.Â
âOh, you donât know how much I get that question,â Sirius sighed.
âWell, maybe I do,â Remus grinned. âYou see, my name is Remus. Like the mythical one who was killed by Romulus?â
âOof. Do you think that says anything about your fate?â Sirius asked, leaning in closer to the counter.Â
âWell, I donât have a twin brother, if thatâs what youâre asking,â Remus chuckled.Â
âRats, I was hoping you did,â Sirius groaned sarcastically.
Remus raised an eyebrow. âWhy? Would you want to hook up with him?â
âMaybe,â Sirius grinned, batting his lashes. âHonestly, if you had a twinâŠâ
âWell, I donât. So why not go for the next best thing?â
âWho?â Sirius asked obliviously.
âMe, of course.â
Siriusâs jaw dropped. âReally? Verily much so?â
âWell, if youâre up for itâŠâ Remus shrugged. He scribbled his number on a slip of paper and handed it over. âHereâs my number in case you want to consider.â
âI think Iâve been tricked, backstabbed, and quite possibly bamboozled,â Sirius muttered to himself, slipping the paper into his pocket.
âAh, a man of culture, I see,â Remus winked. âHereâs your coffee, my good sir.â
#idk how the coffee got there#just imagine lily making it while shooting remus dirty looks or smthn đ€·ââïž#emi answers!!#emi writes sometimes#arcturus tag!!#wolfstar#sirius black x remus lupin#sirius orion black#sirius x remus#sirius loves remus#sirius black#sirius being sirius#remus x sirius#remus lupin x sirius black#remus and sirius#remus loves sirius#remus john lupin#remus lupin#marauders era#marauders#wolfstar microfic#wolfstar fic#marauders au#marauders fandom#dead gay wizards from the 70s#the marauders#the marauders era#the marauders fandom#mauraders#marauders fic
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Bored
Kef's post here, specifically the art at the end, is haunting me. It is fucking with me bad. I wouldn't wish boredom and lack of mental stimulus on my worst enemies, and here Jazz is. Stuck and trapped.
Aimless.
So I decided to write a little something because OOF. Do you know what it's like to be bored? Constantly? Because I do and it SUCKS.
For @keferon's apocalyptic ponyo au.
Thereâs nothing to do.
This isnât anything unusual. Jazz regularly finds himself bored out of his mind every day. Heâs exhausted every avenue of entertainment he can and then some. He already knows this human dialect, English, so he canât entertain himself trying to puzzle out words and letters. The people at this aquarium havenât given him any toys to mess around with either. Itâs always a toss up whether the aquariums he ends up at give him toys or not. He prefers it when they do. Itâs demeaning sure, but what isnât in his situation? At least with a beach ball, he could do SOMETHING. Itâs night and usually, Jazz would escape his tank by now to explore the building, but the aquarium was setting up some new policy, something about frequent tank escapes and trying to prevent them. Itâs not from Jazzâs end, heâs too good at this by now to get caught, but the octopi werenât exactly being subtle when they went to throw rotten clams at their caretakers. What this means for Jazz though, is that the aquarium is busy tonight, and thereâs too many humans around for Jazz to risk it.
What it means is that there is nothing to do, and Jazz is bored.
Bored bored bored, he is so BORED, there is nothing to DO!!
He bursts into an agitated swim, circling circling and circling, trying to burn off the restless energy, or maybe to get dizzy just to feel something, anything, but heâs done this too many times, itâll take more than that to get him dizzy. The apathy and numbed anger quickly comes back, stealing his energy and hollowing him out. He hangs in the water, bored.
There is nothing to do.
More notes on being Bored!:
when you spend all day every day almost always always always BORED, you start creating your own entertainment
Jazz zoning out a LOT because there just simply isn't anything for him to do. Sure there's the training and there's the performances and the checkups and the people watching, but they can only take away the boredom for so long.
Oh! By the way, off tangent, but I finally thought up of a reason for why Jazz hasn't tried talking to the humans in an attempt to get them to realize that he's sentient and that he has a home and he wants to be free. Or to get them to make his tank more, you know, hospitable. Or at the very least not claw at the walls inducing.
Uh, simple reason: he physically can't. Like, merfolk just Do Not have the vocal cords to pronounce human speech. Humans don't have the vocal cords to copy a lot of noises! We can do a lot, sure, but we can't do everything! I say it's the same for merfolk! They may look like humans, but humans look a lot like mers too, and so I say: while both of them can learn the other's language, they're gonna have a difficult time actually speaking it.
so like, Jazz DOES try to talk to the humans, tries to get them to realize that he's a person and he just wants to go home, please please PLEASE-!
but he is clumsy with human speech and they just think he's like a clever parrot. He has intelligence, sure, but that's it. They think his cries are because he misses his home and his pod, sure, but they also think he's better off in captivity since he is so small and alone. They know better. Poor little orca, so scared and hurt. But they know better. It's for his own good. It's okay because it's for his own good.
ANYWAYS I'm digressing, back to boredom notes.
Jazz loses time a lot. There's just.. so little for him to do. And so little reason to do it. He tries to keep himself busy but sometimes he's just.. tired.
He swims because he's bored of staying still, and then he stays still because he's bored of swimming.
haha, wait, oof, ya boi probably has depression honestly.
He probably gets moments of mania too. You know, ACTUALLY clawing at the walls, throwing himself against the tank because he hates hates HATES how small and cramped it is! How it's only big enough for him to swim in small circles! HE HATES IT
The buzzing in his skin, the restlessness, the need for something, ANYTHING, to make him think, to make him FEEL. Heâs going to claw at the walls, this is torture.
The reason why Jazz knows so many human languages isn't just because he was passed around a lot and was exposed to them, it's because he was actively trying to learn them. At first, it was to try and tell someone that he just wants to go home, but when it became clear it wouldn't work, he still kept learning anyways because that way he could overhear conversations, read information from maps and leftover textbooks/papers, and try to escape on his own. Can't escape from the aquarium if he just gets immediately lost once he's outside. (don't think about how he wouldn't be able to escape even if he can read and listen. That path leads to numbness and Jazz has had enough numbness, he needs to focus.)
There's also just.. nothing else for him to do. And if he wants to stave off the boredom and Empty Hollow Fog, then he has to do something.
Honestly, when Jazz and Prowl escape, Jazz is going to have one HELL of an adjustment period outside of just learning mer culture and the ocean world. Going from being bored every day to NEW EXCITING DIFFERENT CHANGES is going to be exhausting. Like, yes, it's all very new and very exciting, and Jazz is going to be a little too preoccupied with staying alive and being terrified to really feel the crash, but man oh man, when there is a lull in all of this? This mer going to crash a LOT.
He's going to have to take a lot of breaks, not just because his tail is weak and undeveloped, but also because he's never had So Much happening All The Time before. It's a lot to adjust to!
(Not that Jazz will let himself have those breaks because uh oh, he's kinda lowkey ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED that Prowl will leave him behind if he can't keep up and Jazz is tired, but he can not go back to being alone.)
Jazz has so many made up games and tricks and stories and music and and and in his head. Because, and I can't stress this enough, there is nothing else for him to do! And when there is nothing for you to do, you start making shit up because the only other alternative is to zone out and lose time, or hit something. And Jazz gets bored of zoning out too, and the last time he hit something, they restrained him and sedated him, so uh. No. No more of that.
Jazz spent a lot of time tinkering with the locks on his tank and practicing moving himself on dry land. He's gotten good at escaping, and very good at doing neat tricks, like doing pull ups to haul himself up the stairs by using their railings, or waddling over the itchy carpet by lifting his tail in the air and keeping it there, or doing a semi cartwheel where he flips himself head over tails by using his tail to help himself roll over (okay that last one is just for fun but come on, he's allowed to have fun.)
Sometimes, when he gets too good at sneaking around, sneaks around while giving himself a handicap just to give himself a challenge. Is it a good idea? Probably not. But he's so bored.
He's gotten some close calls, but he is now very good at sneaking around.
Jazz watches people, just like they watch him, and makes up stories for them. The lady with the screaming toddler is actually secretly a spy, and the child is their cover story! But the spy lady is regretting everything in her life now. She can hack into any computer ever, but she can not hack a child and tell them to behave. The man lingering by the penguins is staring at them because he's thinking about a lover who was lost at sea! The kid popping bubblegum in the corner has parents who are going through a very messy and very dramatic divorce, and they came to the aquarium to escape the fighting. The lady in the giant hat is having a secret affair!
He is so bored.
Jazz also observes, and notices people. Notices their behavior, their motives, their patterns. The caretaker with the Tuesday shift get nervous with loud sudden movements, so Jazz is careful to be small and gentle when it's his turn to feed him. Because if he is small and gentle, then the Tuesday Caretaker will give him a small smile back and sometimes, he'll spend a little extra time talking to him while feeding him, telling him about his classes or about whatever game he's playing for the week. The teenager regular, who must be one of the staff's kids to be able to come so often, loves it when he puts on a little show, playing up his cuteness, and acting playful. She stays longer when he does so, and that means that she stays long enough to meet with one of the cleaning staff members that she's friends with. THIS leads to them greeting each other, and the janitor leaving his cleaning cart unattended, and if Jazz is verrrrry careful, he can snatch one of the chemicals from the cart before the janitor notices. The night guard on Fridays is lazy and always leaves his shift a little early than he should, which means Jazz has less time to get back to his tank on those days.
Jazz notices it all.
There's little else he can do BUT observe.
Jazz probably fidgets and stims a lot too. Idle tapping of his fingers, splashing his tail into the water absentmindedly, humming notes to made up music, or snatches of songs he's memorized, making nonsense noises to himself, tearing up bits of his environment, like peeling paint or crumbling plastic rock.
He tries to stave off the Empty and the Fog, he DOES, but it doesn't always work. Some days, the Fog wins and he just.. floats. Listlessly. Bored. He's so sick of it all, and he's so tired.
He's heard about depression from the college interns and he's pretty sure that's what he has. Lack of stimulation, isolated, and bored bored BORED. Plus, there's that small deal with him being FUCKING TRAPPED AND HELPLESS TO THE WHIMS OF A PEOPLE WHO DON'T SEE HIM AS A PERSON. So you know. He's probably depressed. The Empty is probably the depression. Yippee.
He just wants to go home.
please.
#my posts#my writings#transformers#transformers stuff#apocalyptic ponyo#merformers#tf jazz#mer!jazz#orca!jazz#boredom#you ever get so bored and you want to claw at the walls claw at your skin claw at your hands clAW CLAW CLAW?#because jazz has.#anyways i've written a lot already so I'mma stop it here.#i have Thoughts and Feelings about Jazz being bored and not getting enough stimulation#SO MANY thoughts and feelings.
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you asked for it! im forcing you!
how about a scenario on that particular AU you have cooking around? between nightwing and a spiderperson that is marooned in the black and white gotham city
we love to see it
posting this like you haven't already read all of it >.< a/n: the funniest jokes are princess-marida's and she is a blessed saint that endures my long ramblings about wips, including this one. i know it says a scenario, but this turned into a longer project (shocker) so here's the first part of chapter 1 (eventual) paring: dick grayson/reader rating: m (swearing)/sfw cw: spider-woman!reader who never stops talking, no use of y/n, superhero violence summary: for years, you have been the one and only Spider-Woman of your world. However, after being recruited to the multiversal Spider-Society, you learn that there's a version of you in every other universe too.At least that's what you thought until something goes wrong and you end up in a world with plenty of superheroes, but no Spider-Man. You're stranded, alone and glitching. You need to find this world's Spider-Man and restore your link to the Spider-Verse before you disintegrate completely - easier said than done with both a local detective and a hot vigilante on your tail.
Out of the Spider-Verse (and into Gotham)
All right, guys. Letâs start at the beginning one last time.Â
Your name is definitely not Peter Parker, but you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last few years, youâve been the one and only Spider-Woman. At least, you thought you were until another Spider-Woman showed up to recruit you to the multiversal Spider-Society and you realized you were one of many, many, many Spider-things from all kinds of universes. It was a sweet gig, getting you out and about some, meeting new people, doing team-ups and group work, and your leader was a decent enough guy. A little intense. Borderline scary. Easy on the eyes though. Really easy on the eyes.
And one day, youâre hanging out at the headquarters minding your own business, totally not gossipping about boss-man, when the order comes to capture one of your fellow Spider-Men. Next thing you know, youâre caught up in the whirlwind of Spider-Beings chasing after someone called Miles Morales, and somehow, in the chaos, you slip.
A fluke, really. You never slip. Youâre Spider-Woman! You literally stick to walls and ceilings, and somehow, you lost your footing and took a tumble into darkness.Â
Real darkness. Where bright flashing lights and psychedelic colors had accompanied you all the other times you hopped through dimensions, this time, you fell into a black pit of nothing. Reflexes had you shooting out webs, desperate to get an anchor point. They disappeared into the void with an embarrassing swish, and you did not even have time to scream before you smacked into something undeniably solid.
Concrete, probably, based on the cloud of debris and dust that rained over you as your body dug several feet into it, knocking every cubic inch of air from your lungs with an oof. Yup, you determined as you lifted your now gray arms to study them. Definitely concrete. You dropped your head back into the rubble and made a face under your mask. Concrete dust was a real bitch to get out of the suit, and you would be forced to cosplay as whitewashed Noir Spider-Man until you could get it dry-cleaned.Â
Read more on AO3
#dick grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#dick grayson x you#nightwing x you#batman fanfiction#spider verse fanfiction#out of the spider-verse#my writing#asks#requested#requests open#how do i tag this so i can find it later#ao3
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your themed slang for stex you did in that one post is really interesting could you elaborate on them?
oof yes i love themed slang so much (og post here)
Train slang is not super complex, merely a blending of regular old human culture, real railroad slang, and their own esoteric references. Most rolling stock have a remarkable skillfulness in the art of arguing, and will talk shit to hell and back. As a result, their vernacular is increasingly creative in an effort to really get their points across.
Some examples (including the ones in that post and some more!)
Dries my crown - a steamer saying, referencing the crown sheet that covers the top of the firebox. The crown must have a layer of water on top of it at all times to prevent damage to boiler, and potential implosion. So, saying that something "dries my crown", means it's really irritating to the point of outrage
Keep your tender on - calm down, relax. Another steamer saying
Blow it out your stack - fuck off and leave me alone. Started as a steamer thing and has gradually shifted over to the diesels as a derogative
Chassis - A chassis is the load bearing framework of rolling stock (and many other pieces of machinery). In the context of train slang, it's vaguely sexual? They're about as anatomically correct as barbie dolls and have a limited understanding of sexuality. But that doesn't mean the counterfeit replication of the human mind that makes up the rolling stock psyche can't catcall and talk dirty!
Pumps my pistons - see above
Get out of my cab and it's variations - stop micromanaging me!
Tarblood/coaleater/crummy/hog/scrap/tea kettle/etc. - slurs and name calling. Trains love to insult each other
Rumble - a human term that was co-opted by the rolling stock. Someone is gonna throw down and it's gonna be a big event, let's go watch two idiots beat each other up. Usually references altercations between engines
Less than a hundred miles under you - you're a newbie, you don't have a lot of experience
Wheelslip - In real railroading, wheelslip is a phenomenon where if too much force is applied to the wheels and there is not enough friction, the wheels will turn without there being movement of the train. In train slang, it's the equivalent of saying "butterfingers" when someone drops something or "you good?" when someone trips
Ticking over - not really slang, but more of cultural thing. On a real engine, ticking over is idling. In the musical, tickovers are the set of movements each character does when they're not doing anything specific (Rusty's little arm rotations, CB's salute, Greaseball combing back his hair). In the context of my weird psychological automaton au, it's a visual representation of them processing information. Train stimming, basically.
Oh also, they have a non-verbal sub-language in train form (if one subscribes to the transformers-esque headcanon), which includes brake clenching, whistle/horn variations, metal creaks, and light signals!
#i could talk about train culture all the live long day#ask#anonymous#starlight express#stex#factoanthropology
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Fics that Live in My Mind, Rent Free (Pedro's Version) - Part 1

Happy NYE! đ„łđ„ł
I read so many wonderful, hot, gut-wrenching, unforgettable, inspiring Pedro Pascal character fanfics... and I haven't been reblogging them 𫣠(it's me, hi, I'm the problem it's me). Don't hate me please - reblogging gives me so much anxiety, and I'm not even sure I could articulate why if I tried - and I see a lot of the discussion/discourse/posts re: reblogging and I truly understand all perspectives although it just seems to elevate my nerves about even more.
However, I understand the impact and moreover, I want to do it for the writers that bring me so much joy and inspiration, so I endeavour to try. I want to make it clear that this is a personal hang up of mine, and I have 100% absolutely no comments on how anyone else engages here; reblog/comment/like or donât per your own preferences and you have nothing but love from me đ
So it will be a 2024 personal goal of mine to be less shy about reblogging, but while I work up my courage/practice, I wanted to go back and compile a list of some of my fave Pedro boy fics; I think of each and every one of these fics often and have revisited them all (i.e. Exactly the fics I should have reblogged when I read them). I went deep in my likes so some of these fics are quite old; you may have already read them all! If you have or havenât, I hope you love them as much as I do!
Din Djarin (The Mandalorian, GOAT)
Boxer!Din AU by @djarinsbeskar (Boxer and his masseuse, who relaxes him in more ways than one. I've mentioned before that this is the first Modern Din AU I ever read and it's cemented itself as one of the best. Making Safest with You Din an ex-boxer is my humble homage.)
Freu(Din)an Slip by @saradika (Is there space porn in the SW universe? Yes.)
Bare by @charnelhouse (part of an AU between Din and bounty hunter!reader; other favourite instalments include Come and Conquer and Din's Ex)
A Bond to My Soul by @whiskeynwriting (King!Din and reader, with a battle just outside the doors)
Mine also by @whiskeynwriting (Jealous Din, no need to say more)
Beloved series by @groguspicklejar (Din falls in love with Cyare; mind the tags - the writing is rich and the emotions deep)
Courting by @writerlyhabits (another Mandalorian tries to court you and Din's having none of that)
Hold me down by @starlightmornings (Din as your weighted blanket)
Be Mine by @spacecowboyhotch (Glove kink)
Save a Speeder, Ride a Mando by @sprout-fics (I love fics where Din is jealous of Cobb)
Helping Hand and Did you miss me? by @mellowswriting (Din smut and fluff; they're in love, okay?)
Fix you by @roguetonorth (Comforting Din)
Rough Day by @no-droids (I think everyone knows about this fic; Sweet Girl!Reader holds a special place in my heart)
Take me to Church by @frannyzooey (Western AU; seriously one of the hottest and most romantic series I've ever read. I cried several times đ„č)
Flowers & Sex by @221bshrlocked (Din and innocent!Reader)
Show me by @moralesispunk (A bounty gets mouthy)
Patience by @oscarseyebrow (Starts with cockwarming)
Close Quarters by @absurdthirst (One bed/bunk)
Reunion by @heybluechild (Breaking in the N1)
Significant by @softlyspector (Din calls Reader "Riduur"; I love, love, love Mando fics with lots of Mando'a; so much care is always taken by the writers to translate and weave the words into the story)
Din takes out his frustrations by @ourautumn86
Javier Pena (Narcos)
Burn for Me by @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis (Reader teases Javi; it backfires)
Use me by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Javi is frustrated)
Needy by @wheresarizona (Reader is going to be late for work đ€)
Reader brings Javi dinner at work by @forthetears
Joel Miller (TLOU)
Bad Girl by @seventeenpins (The first in a hot stepdad!Joel Miller series)
The Boss' Bunny by @talaok (The first in a series about QZ criminal boss Joel and his insatiable bunny)
Help! I'm Stuck! by @nosesitter (Oof! Father-in-law!Joel Miller and his OF daughter-in-law; 2 in the series so far)
Stripped by @thot-of-khonshu (Mr. Miller goes to a strip club)
Stay in Bed series by @psychedelic-ink (Neighbour Joel, pre-outbreak)
A Man Like Him by @valerinaswriting (No one should question Joel's abilities)
Mine by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Reader wears Joel's shirt on accident)
You Are My Cinema by @itgetsdark-x (Camgirl!Reader)
An Afternoon with Your Dad's Best Friend by @elvinaa (I mean, it's in title đ€; I actually always secretly wish for a sequel to this one)
Come and get your love by @sunflowersteves (Sunshine!Reader)
Francisco "Catfish" Morales (Triple Frontier)
Kinktober 2022 - Erotic Photos by @moralesispunk (Reader gifts Frankie a Polaroid camera)
Thirds by @haylzcyon (Reader visits new boyfriend Frankie at work)
Grass is Greener by @haylzcyon (Frankie mows the lawn)
Kinktober 2022 - Overstimulation by @flightlessangelwings-updates (This was my introduction to pussy eating king Frankie)
Cabin in the woods by @guess-my-next-obsession (The cabin is spooky but Frankie is there to take care of Reader)
Double Feature (and all of the Box Set Universe) by @frannyzooey (Frankie and Reader love movies)
Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)
Little Red's Shadow by @littlemisspascal (Werewolf!Pero đ„č)
In my dreams by @toomanystoriessolittletime (Princess falls for a mercenary)
Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion, all 48 seconds)
A Sight for Sore Eyes and Sir by @ozarkthedog (Semi-public sex)
Anything you say can and will be held against you by @jksprincess10 (Workplace rivals)
An Important Appointment by @boliv-jenta (Sex worker!Reader)
Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)
A present by @radiowallet (Lingerie prompt; Cat writes some of the best Marcus Moreno fics on here imho. This one is my personal fave)
First Date by @absurdthirst (Workplace FWB)
The Date by @wardenparker (Professor!Marcus but also Marcus on a motorcycle)
Part 2 of list
#fic rec list#fic rec#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#javier peña#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#frankie morales#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales fic#tim rockford#tim rockford fanfiction#tim rockford fic#pero tovar#pero tovar fic#pero tovar fanfiction#marcus moreno#marcus moreno fanfiction#marcus moreno fic
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College AU Chapter 4 DROP đ§Ąđ
Sorry I didn't write for this AU in a while ^^" I got writers block TvT Then it was exam period in college and then the holidays- *oof* BUT IM BACK NOW, AND 2 CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE END!!!
Actually, this chapter was inspired by @eechytooru 's artwork, same as the rest of the AU lol, but I mean specifically the doodle where they're playing chess in this post
(Do you guys have any idea how far I had to scroll to get this link??? XD) Anyway, you'll see why JSUT READ QISBWKSO-
Chapter 4 : Checkmates
Anne and Saddie, arms linked, walked up to the chess club doorstep one peaceful Monday afternoon. Anna had figured fewer people stay past class hours on Mondays, so there would be a lot less pressure. Having prepared herself for this, she felt a surge of energy throughout her body, and she had a smile from ear to ear.
"Thank you again, Saddie. You know, you really didn't need to accompany me, though."
"I'll be honest and say it was more for my nerves than your own," she admitted.
Anna-lee chuckled, "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow morning!" She waved goodbye to her senior and opened the door. The bright light of the room pouring into the hall.
Sitting at the front desk of the club was a smiling woman. She wore a knee-length blue dress with a subtle star pattern over a white t-shirt and a pair of blue ballerinas. The outfit was accessorized with a cute beaded necklace. Her blonde roots stood in harsh contrast to her bright blue pixie cut. Her style was so distinctive that Anne had no problem recognizing her. Her smile spread across her face just a little bit more.
Once the woman laid eyes on her, she sprang out of her seat and grabbed her hand to shake it excitedly, "Hello!!! Oh my gosh, I've heard so many good things about you! It's so nice to finally meet you!"
"You have?," she asked, her voice shaking, "That's great, but hm- what was your name again?"
"Oh, I'm sorry! I can get ahead of myself sometimes; I'm Jocelyn, Jocelyn Meyer, but you can just call me Joy."
"It's nice to meet you too, Joy! Great name, by the way," Anna-lee pointed out.
"Thanks," she humbly accepted the compliment, "I'm assuming you came to check out the club! Would you like a tour, or are you good exploring on your own?" She offered.
"Wellâ " Anna leaned to her right side, checking out the room behind Joy.
On the left, there were students having coffee and playing card games, comfortably sitting on an assortment of sofas. To her right, a row of tables had more serious students playing a variety of board games, including chess. The entrance's bright yellow light dimmed into a redish hue that gave the rest of the room the air of a casino night. At the very back, Frederick sat at a desk, cabinets, full of board games and other knick-knacks standing tall behind him. He was bent over a ton of paperwork, his eyes darting between two copies, marking notes from time to time in red ink.
"I wouldn't mind an explanation as to why the chess club has much more games than I would have anticipated?" questioned Anna.
"Great question!" The two walked into the club, on their way to the back of the room, "A few years back, we really were just 'the chess club' up until the previous director took her maternity leave. You must know her since she's in your department : Saddie?"
"Yes! She guided me here, actually. I mean, aside from Fred, who's mentioned it in passing," she chuckled nervously.
Jocelynâs eyebrows frowned and her lips perked.
"What?" Anne asked, her voice shaky, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm just still surprised he didn't mention it more considering taking Saddie's place was no small feat. The humble bastard," she elaborated.
Before she could explain further, they had reached Fredâs directorâs desk. Anne had a perplexed look on her face. She lifted a finger up to her lip.Â
âFred, could you shed some light on that for me?â asked Joy, but the question flew right past him as he continued his correction work. The girls shared a confused look before Joy hit the desk lightly with both her hands, âFred?â she repeated, raising her voice ever so slightly.
The man jolted back before looking up. In an instant, his face flushed, his shoulders tensed, and he jumped out of his office chair, hitting his knees on the desk. The yell he stuffed down came out as a squeal. He fell back into his chair, holding his knees as it rolled back, breathing in through his teeth. Anna-lee hid her agape mouth behind her hands, and Joy scrunched her teeth.
âOh my gosh! Iâm so sorry, I didnât mean to scare you,â she apologized, âAre you ok?â
âYup! Give me a moment,â he took a deep breath before standing up straight and waving 'hello' with an embarrassed look on his face, âHi Anna-lee.â
Anna smiled nervously, returning his little wave. Joy side-eyed her and smirked, âFred, why haven't you explained to Miss Tyson how you got this position?â
âI... I don't really like to brag,â he responded honestly, returning swiftly to his work.
"Aw, it's not a brag! It's like, like... history! Of the chess club! Come on, tell her!" Joy poked his arm.
Anna-Lee's face lit up, "I like history!"
Fred sighed before explaining without looking away from his paperwork, "When a director leaves their post, the members of the chess club play a chess tournament in which the winner gets to become the new director-"
"He won the last tournament and hasn't lost a single match since!" Joy cheerfully finished his tale, clapping her hands together, proud of him.
Frederick's face flushed red, his eyes rolled in annoyance, and he smiled. Anna-lee looked at him in awe. Then, her brow frowned nefariously, "How offended would you be if I said I didn't believe you?"
He looked up at her again, this time with a serious look on his face, â... Is that a challenge?â
The next thing they knew, they were sitting face to face at a table in the center of the room, the chess board printed onto its surface, patiently awaiting the war of pawns. Jocelyn and a few club members as their audience. The tension in the room was slightly off. Everyone could foresee the outcome of the match, yet Anna-Lee's pure excitement and general brash attitude still had the small audience shaking with anticipation. Joy was referee; she flipped a coin to determine who goes first. Fred guessed his head, Anna guessed tails. The coin landed on tails, so she moved her pawn first. He did the same on his turn. The back and forth went on for five very silent, very focused turns, at least for Anne, who knew who she was up against and tried to do her best. Fred calmly swirled the coffee in his mug after every move, taking a sip from time to time, a smile plastered on his face.
âCheckmate,â he whispered after his fifth turn, having moved the black rook diagonally to the white king.
âHuh? But- Huh,â she scratched her forehead and threw her hands in the air, âI lost.â
Everyone sighed knowingly and casually went back to their own games, âWell, Joy did try to warn you. Hopefully, this didnât upset you... and you still want to hang out in the club?â asked Fred, nervously hiding his face behind his mug.Â
Anne reached over the table and grabbed his left hand, holding it with both of hers, âLetâs play again,â she said dryly, a fire burning in her eyes.Â
He looked over at Joy, hoping sheâd have something comforting to say or do, but she simply shrugged and went back to the front desk, leaving the two alone, more or less. He smiled at Anna, his eyebrows shaking nervously.Â
They played for so long; they had lost track of time. At first, he counted the games heâd won, but he stopped counting after 12; determining that she wouldnât stop playing until sheâd defeated him... He tried giving her tips, but she wouldnât listen to any of them, saying she preferred to figure it out on her own. Fred couldnât help but feel bad, not only because playing against a novice this many times made him feel pity, but also because he was genuinely enjoying seeing her plan her moves and get excited over even the slightest bit of progress only to fail anyway and get frustrated. Every time Anna failed, however, it just fueled her passion more. She was frowning almost the entire time, but he thought she looked adorable regardless. Fred silently smiled to himself. Her king piece fell over and over until the club room was left completely empty.
âI donât mean to interrupt, um, whatever is going on here-â Joy walked up to them, waving her hands at the situation.
âItâs war,â clarified Anna-lee, a straight look on her face.
Joy giggled, âSure! But um, itâs getting late, and Iâd like to head home now.â
âOh my gosh!" Anna yelled, looking down at her watch, "6PM?? Iâm so sorry! Iâll leave now!â She jumped out of her chair and grabbed Jocelynâs arms, hugging her as thanks, then swiftly running straight out the door. Before she left, however, she peeked her head through the door to say one last thing : "BUT! Donât think this is over, Frederick! I will defeat you! MARK MY WORDS!â And she slammed the door shut.
The math teachers were left speechless. Fred swirled his mug one last time.
âHey~ looks like someone's made a rival,â Jocelyn teased him, hitting his left arm with her elbow.
Fred tried to take a sip of his cup, but his tongue was left dry, âI think Iâm gonna need more coffee.â
âââââ
For the next few days, Anna-lee showed up at the chess club after class, asking Fred for at least one match, to which heâd concede. She became an official member after her third day. Their games got progressively longer. Sheâd smile at him every time he realized she'd made unexpected progress, but no matter what technique she tried, Anne would always lose. Despite this, Anna-lee loved playing against him. Something about the competition, the goal sheâd set for herself, made her feel alive. She had researched the history of chess and various chess strategies on her own time; spending hours sitting in her bed, curled up over her computer screen, reading. If she was to play against anyone else, she would most likely win, or at least she likes to believe that she could, but ultimately, she didnât want to beat anyone else. She wanted to defeat Fred. Anna hasnât had this much fun in a while. Now, when she enters the club, she feels right at home. Where she belongs. The red velvet walls give her a warm, comforting embrace.Â
She sat at the chess table in front of Fred once more, holding out a coin.
âIâm ready when you are,â he said.
Anna flipped the coin, guessing heads. It landed on tails.
âDarn!â she cursed under her breath, which made Fred laugh.
The black and white checkered pattern of the board matched his sweater vest. Oftentimes, as silly as it sounded, Anna wondered if it gave him some sort of advantage. It almost seemed like every piece on the board was on his side, like she was playing against the game itself. Perhaps it was just an impression she got from not looking at him- enough? Her eyes darted up at him, and she was reminded why she so rarely does so. His dark eyes seemed to have no end. It was as if looking straight up at a clear night sky, the endless sea of stars glistening with hope. She swallowed and looked back down at the game; shaken by how much she had to live up to. In a sharp move, she shoved her bishop across the board; seeking some kind of struggle from him. Instead, he smiled and moved his rook, taking her bishop. Anne scoffed, face flushed.
âSorry Madam. I will say, youâve gotten much more confident with your moves,â he shrugged his shoulders ironically.
âThatâs not fair. You distracted me!â she playfully pointed at him, her yelling grabbing the club membersâ attention.
âHow?â he chuckled.
âHuh-" shit-, "with your wits! I guess-â
"...True, I am a scientific calculator; youâre more like a novel,â he boldly stated.
âHuh?â Anna-lee muttered.
The room fell silent.
âI, wait, I mean-â
He scrambled with his words, trying his best to piece together an apology, but it was too late. As seconds passed, the silence in the room rang louder and louder in Anna's ears until she was deaf with anger, âNo, youâre right! And you know what? You can have your win! We both know how this ends anyway, right?! Screw the rules, screw your stupid club rules : I FORFEIT!âÂ
Anna-lee grabbed her things and stormed out the door faster than anyone could process what had just happened. Fred cowarded in his seat, frozen by fear and shame. A dark, misty cloud closed in around him, causing him to shiver.
âHey,â Joy said, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at her, speechless.
âI know you didnât mean what you said, but then... why?â
All he could do was shake his head.
âââââ
It's been a few days since the two have spoken, and Fred still feels awful about it. Anna-lee had been avoiding him, missing their usual meet-up times on tuesdays and ignoring him in the halls. The only moments she even acknowledged his presence were at the chess club. She came in every other day to challenge him to a match, but only under the condition they did not speak during the game. He had no idea why he kept accepting this. He needed to talk to her about this, but if he did, it would break her trust, and she'd probably stop going to the club at all. He'd never see her again... over a game of chess? No. This was his fault. He had to fix this. He had a plan, but he had a strong suspicion that she was not going to like it.
Tuesday, after his class, he stayed in the classroom for as long as necessary. Just as he thought, Anna-lee showed up 15 minutes before her class began, way past their usual meeting time. When she entered the room, her eyes widened at the sight of him, and as she spun around to leave, her face frowned.
"Wait! Anna-lee, can we talk?" Fred rushed to meet up with her in the hall.
"What is there to talk about, Fred?!" She turned around to face him, "I thought I was finally getting closer to you, being curious about an interest of yours, but clearly, I was wrong to think we could even be- compatible, since you've shown you don't actually respect my discipline!"
"I didn't mean any of that!"
"I don't care! All I want is an apology!"
"But you yelled at me and ran out without letting me apologize! And you're doing it again! How am I supposed to make it up to you if you won't even TALK to me!?"
Anna was taken aback. She was speechless.
"... Will you please listen to me?"
"OK- go on."
"I didn't mean to insult your discipline. If you know me at ALL, you know how much I respect youand I'd never insult you intentionally. I was trying to come up with a... a 'roast'? You know, playful banter, like we usually have, but I said the first thing that came to mind, and I didn't think about what I was saying until... well until I had said it," his voice got weaker and shaky as he explained, his body folding in on itself.
Anna's face softened, and she stepped closer to him.
"I'm sorry. It was never my intention to insult you or your intelligence..." With his next thought, he gained some of his spirit back, "Actually, you're one of the smartest people I know."
She looked a little surprised at first, but then she smiled.
"You're smart and funny," he complimented her, slowly holding out his hands to grab hers and gently guiding her closer to him, "And if we ever were to get lost in a crowd of people, I know I'd always be able to pick you out amongst them, because you are radiant."
Anna-lee giggled, her laugh causing her to lean onto him, "Oh Fred, never change," she gave him a hug and sighed before pulling away to look at him, "You're right, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner. I let my feelings get in the way of problem solving, and it just left both of us in an uncomfortable situation. I was acting childish - c-could you forgive me?" Her voice cracked, and her eyes shined. She clung into his sleeves nervously.
"Of course! So long as you forgive me," he raised his left eyebrow, tilted his head, and smirked.
Anna-lee chuckled, "Don't waste my time! I have a class to give!" She pulled away from him and walked up to the door.
"But you do forgive me, right?"
"Yes, Fred, I do."
"Great! I'll see you... after class? At the chess club?"
"Yes sir! And you better be prepared for the match of a lifetime!" She threatened him playfully.
Fred smiled, a sappy, enamored smile, as he walked away, wishing 3 hours could pass by as quickly as 3 seconds would.
âââââ
"Prepare yourself, Fred, 'cause I'm about to rock. Your. World!" warned Anna-lee, sitting across her opponent at the chess table.
"Should I be scared or intrigued?" asked Frederick with a shaky voice, making sure he was in the right mindset before the game.
"Preferably : both."
"OK, good. Then consider me prepared!"
(Author's note: GET A ROOM!!!!!)
Every member of the chess club was present for the match, impatiently leaning in to watch the show. Joy was very excited for this particular match, as her friends had finally gotten back to their usual banter. She refereed once more, flipped a coin and determined Anna would go first.
With each turn, the tension in the air strung itself just a little tighter. Fred was smiling like a dork at first, happy to be playing with her like normal again, until he realized that she was taking quite a few more of his pieces then he'd like. Did his feelings get in the way of his strategizing? They haven't gotten in the way before; what gives? Everytime he made a move, Anne swiftly countered it. Eventually, he understood : Anna-lee was using his own technique against him. His face melted into a frightened shock, his mouth agape. When she saw this, she smiled devilishly. He looked up at her, his hands starting to shake nervously, then back down at the board. He swallowed. The tables had turned. A drop of sweat trailed down his jawline. The back and forth went on for five more very silent, very focused turns, at least for Fred, who knew what he was up against and had no idea how he could win. Anna-lee calmly moved her pieces, a smile plastered on her face.
"Checkmate!" She shouted and jumped out of her seat once her queen had finally, finally cornered his king. The whole room burst into cheers and hugs; she had accomplished what they'd all thought to be impossible!
"YA!!! I have been waiting to use these for so long!" Jocelyn jumped at Anna, throwing a cape around her shoulders and placing a handmade paper crown on her head, which filled her heart with joy. With all the club members surrounding her and congratulating her, Anna's cheeks started to hurt from how hard she was smiling, a tear almost forming in her eye.
Fred was still sitting down; leaning over the board in disbelief. He lay his head in his left hand and picked up his king piece; sliding it over next to her queen piece, "Congrats," he said, in awe of her. Soft. Humble.
Anna-lee blinked twice and froze; her breath was cut short. For just a moment, everything else ceased to be. For just a moment, she looked into his eyes and got lost in them again.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6
âââââ
The chapters only get longer from here, sorry gang XD
Redraw reward of my doodle from the last chapter as a thx for reading uvuđ§Ąđ
#inside out#inside out 2#inside out fandom#inside out fanfiction#inside out fear#inside out anxiety#inside out au#college au#panicfrog#anxifear#i may be cringe but i am free
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