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gatitties · 10 months ago

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Who 's the villain?

─JoFoes x gn!teen!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You wanted to have a less boring life, what you didn't expect was a kidnapping and ten villains older than the sun trying to take care of you, and not by choice.

─Warnings: none

OKAY, I'm currently finishing watching the part 4, HOWEVER, I always end up getting spoilers, I found some books on wattpad and here about this theme with the villains and I really liked it, so here I am writing this to please myself for the lack of content 😔, I'm sorry if the villains between parts 5-6 are not as faithful to their personalities, I am guided by other writings I also plan to write more parts, however not as long as this one (I just got a little excited 🙂)

You were wallowing in your misery, you angrily threw the notebook with messily written notes across your room, letting an exasperated sigh escape your lips, you wish you had an invention that would make you remember all the contents of the exam, but alas, Doraemon did not exist.

You rubbed your temples, noticing how the sun had completely hidden, you decided to go out to get something for dinner, knowing that your parents weren't big fans of dinner, they would just let you get what you wanted or if it was something more elaborate you would ask them to do whatever just for you, you settled for something simple today.

You took the food to your room, closing the door and clearing your desk full of sheets, opening your computer to put something on the background because there was no way you were going to eat without seeing something, you moved restlessly in your chair, turning it as time passed ridiculously slow, one of the wheels got stuck with something and made you stumble to the ground, luckily you had already finished your meal and didn't stain anything.

"Damn, why is there always a random pencil on the floor?"

You grabbed the green pencil, looking at it as if it were your worst enemy and threw it towards the desk, it bounced and returned to the floor, but you didn't realize it, you lay down looking at the ceiling, your mind completely empty without wanting to be conscious of your responsibilities, couldn't you skip the entire phase of adolescence? Or at least, do something more entertaining? Your days were spent stuck at home without much to do because all your friends were too busy or it was difficult to agree on a date to go out together.

You got up from the floor, closing the window of your room because it started to get cold, looking at the stars, you wished you had some interesting change in the rhythm of your life, as if destiny itself had planned it, something tugged at the collar of your pajamas, you coughed from the sudden grip, struggling to free yourself from whatever was holding you, it had more strength than you and ended up dragging you out of your house, you screamed when you saw that you were falling from the second floor, but you barely had time to react when some arms picked you up and put a cloth over your mouth.

Now, when you thought about having a little more interesting life… you weren't referring to this, voices that were distant became increasingly clear as did your consciousness, it seemed that several men were arguing about something that you still didn't understand, your body shook when you opened your eyes finding several imposing people, luckily no one seemed to have noticed that you stood up so you decided to use that to your advantage.

You moved slowly along the sofa, you were about to put your foot on the floor when you felt an intense gaze on you, you exchanged glances with a tall, muscular man with barely any clothes, his hair was very pretty, but you weren't going to stop and flatter him right now.

"The little human has finally woken up, maybe they have some answers about this situation."

"Little human? My God, I've been kidnapped by aliens…"

You mumbled, swallowing hard as you saw that now all eyes were on you, you laughed awkwardly, lowering your other foot to the ground, everything remained in an awkward silence until you decided to use your legs to run wherever as fast as you could.

You went up a flight of stairs, hearing footsteps behind you, you went crazy when you saw the magnitude of the house you were in, you could easily get lost in the maze of hallways and rooms, you managed to avoid the arms of another tall and strong guy, luckily you were elusive, you turned into a hallway and hid in a closet watching as a blonde with fangs and some kind of priest were looking for you, once they left your vision you ran down again hoping to get out the door.

You were startled when another blonde man in a purple suit grabbed your shoulder before you could reach the living room where you woke up, sending a quick kick to his shin you ran towards the door, unfortunately another person grabbed you to stop you, this time you didn't hold back and screamed when he approached you, latching onto your waist in a strange hug.

The strange thing is that he started to scream just as scared as you, you slowed down your scream while the pink haired boy continued to have a commotion, the strange situation left you confused, but the presence of the others entering the room made you react, looking at the windows of the living room, you made the new plan, and before anyone reacted or guessed your thoughts you ran to the windows, or tried to.

"Ack-! What the hell…?"

Your head began to hurt because you fell directly to the ground, frowning when you saw a damn green pencil rolling on the ground, you groaned in pain and trembled when you saw how everyone surrounded your body, apparently you had nothing more than to accept your fate .

"Oh Father who art in heaven, forgive me for having insulted all those people while playing Roblox and Minecraft, forgive my sins and let my body rest in-

"Hey kid, you're not dying, cut that shit."

You frowned at the blonde who interrupted you, he had a stupid helmet with the word 'Dio' on it, before you could complain the priest spoke.

"No, it's good for young people to pray, continue."

You looked blankly at the guy, did he really think you were seriously praying? Someone picked you up by grabbing your ankle, you tried to look at the redhead who had picked you up and was looking at you with big eyes analyzing every movement, but your neck started to hurt trying to get a good look.

"Santana, that's not how you hold people."

Another giant snatched you up, now holding you with his arm on your legs, instinctively your arms went around one of his shoulders to keep you upright.

"Now then… I think you have something to explain to us, don't you?"

You blinked a couple of times in bewilderment, looking at all the men in the room, you pointed at yourself in confusion, exchanging awkward glances with everyone.

"Excuse me, I did what, exactly?"

"Don't play dumb! As much as I would like to live again to reign in this world, I, Dio, remember exactly that I died and now I am here."

One of the blondes pointed at you accusingly as if you had caused him to come back to life, a shiver ran through your entire body, pushing your body further against the man who was still holding you.

Each one expressed their displeasure against an entire lineage, all apparently dead on another occasion or timeline, leaving you even more confused, how did these crunchy old fossils think a teenager brought them back to life if you seem even more confused than them? Apparently everyone woke up before you and started an argument, accusations flew between them but they came to the conclusion that none of them knew anything, so that's why you were the last accused, the last to wake up.

"Well eh- I'm sorry to disappoint you but I have nothing to do with it, the last time I checked I wasn't doing any ritual to bring back dead people…"

Everyone seemed ready to discuss the topic again, but the television in the living room suddenly turned on, the guy who was still holding you, crushed you against his broad chest, scared by the electronic device, while the majority watched expectantly.

A video from a certain 'Speedwagon foundation' began to play explaining some things about a social reintegration program, something about a second chance in an alternate universe and things that you couldn't understand, apparently the others seemed to understand most of the references about some things called stands and their weakening, throughout the entire explanation you looked with your eyes blank, not knowing that you were painting with what seemed to be villains from another universe, apparently the video coincided with your thoughts when you heard your name come out from the person speaking in the screen.

"And another thing that will show that you are capable of returning to society as rational people is being able to take care of the teenager that you have at your side, we hope that they can also provide you with some reasoning and kindness."

"I don't think I gave my consent for this… isn't this considered kidnapping?"

The television was turned off, leaving now a very silent room, apparently that foundation had enough power to do anything, they fulfilled your wish to change your pace of life, but at what cost? Everyone looked at you again.

"So we just have to not kill people for a while and make sure the human doesn't die? That will be an easy task."

Everyone seemed to nod at what one of the giants said, you looked at them nervously, you weren't sure if they really understood what this was all about, but at least it ensured your life in some way.

Wamuu put you down once the whole situation became somewhat clearer, and your next move was to find your room and hide under the covers in hopes that this was a weird dream.

It was not.

You woke up suddenly when the door to your room flew to the floor, splintering in several places, well, goodbye to your privilege of privacy, the first thing you saw was the tail of a dinosaur moving slowly, which you recognized as Diego complained about the blow while Valentine ─if you remembered correctly─ looked at him with fury, the fight continued down the hallway, deciding not to intervene, your stomach asked for food.

The living room seemed a little messier than the night before, apparently some people couldn't get along with each other, you shrugged and entered the kitchen, finding a nervous Doppio being watched by Santana.

"Hello…"

You greeted, receiving a small nervous smile from the pinkette and a silent look from the pillar man, Doppio seemed to escape once Santana's eyes watched you move around the kitchen, conveniently full of food, since you were not a cook and your skills were limited, you opted for some simple toast.

"What is that thing?"

You stifled a scream when the redhead spoke, pointing to the toaster, you briefly explained how it worked as he nodded, what you didn't expect was that when the buns jumped he got scared and broke the toaster, you looked at each other in silence for a second, your buns at least landed on the counter safe and sound.

"That thing tried to attack me."

"Sure… hey, don't worry, it scared me too even when I know they're going to jump."

You'll think about how to get a new toaster later, you sat at the table that had been cleared by Kira, who seemed to be the only one to make himself something decent for breakfast, it was the only half normal at least at first glance.

The first days passed in a blur, a new toaster appeared at the entrance of the house, the arguments continued, and your routine was based on locking yourself in your room and dying of boredom, sometimes Santana followed you around the house asking about the electronics devices, of course he wasn't the only one to ask about how things worked, but your interactions were brief.

You also took charge of tidying up the house a bit, since these men seemed to have no sense of cleanliness except for Pucci, Valentine, and Kira. Your door was not yet repaired, you used a blanket to cover the opening, but you decided that today you would try to fix it, after walking around the house you found a room with tools, you didn't know what you were going to need so you grabbed a box with several heavy things.

You looked blankly at your old door, starting to glue the parts together with super glue and stapling them with a staple gun, it was good enough as it held together without falling apart again, the problem was that when trying to frame the door in place you stubbed your finger too strong.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Teenagers should not swear."

Pucci looked at you seriously as if you had committed a war crime, you could only dry a mischievous tear that escaped due to the pain in your battered finger, ignoring the priest you returned to work under his gaze.

"What are you doing here, huh? Watching the puny human?"

The last thing you needed was eyes on you, Dio's presence gave you chills and caused you to stub your fingers more than you would have liked while you finished fixing your door.

"Oh my! How can you just watch while a teen does all the work? An exemplary family man would be the one who should take care of these things."

The hammer was snatched from your hand, when you looked up you saw Valentine, who finished your poor job, the other two had disappeared seconds later.

"Thank you."

"No problem dear, you should treat those battered hands."

You nodded looking at the redness on your bruised fingers, either you had really bad aim or you were really shit at carpentry, but whatever.

You were mostly ignored as no one really cared about your existence because you seemed to be able to take care of yourself, however Doppio found himself attached to you, you didn't know if it was because he was just as fearful as you in some ways or because he found comfort in you because you seemed less tougher on him than the others, they weren't especially friendly or at least their appearance was scary enough not to be around.

But you started to lose your mind, you wished you could do something with your boring life, however your routine was to spend your days watching fights break out, considering that all your electronic devices were gone, it drove you crazy by not being able to do anything fun.

Then you entered your villain arc, you were supposed to have some immunity to these geezers, so you decided that what would reign in the house would be chaos. Everyone started to really rethink whether taking care of you was going to be that easy. You didn't even try to make things chaotic, your mere existence was, it was just something you kept to yourself, so as not to embarrass yourself or stand out too much for your clumsiness.

Kira found out that your cooking skills sucked to the point where you could burn water somehow, the pillar men would be confused as to why they can't use the TV like you told them to, and there's only a background video of some guy singing 'never gonna give you up' on a loop, Dio will find everywhere a pink diary with glitter and some red letters 'vampire diary' where there are poorly made drawings of him and Pucci with hearts, casually your tongue will rant with the words most barbarians in front of Pucci and occasionally inciting fights between Valentine and Diego, you discovered the identity problems of Doppio and his alter ego Diavolo and decided that your best option was to gaslight him to annoy.

They also discovered that you have some kind of power ─you don't─ because they find colored pencils lying randomly on the floor that they usually trip over, although you are not free from your curse either. Since you discovered all that about the stands after doing a little research on your own you started punching the air in the hope of hitting one of them.

You are only making their existence more complicated and they were already dead in other universe, do they have to take care of you? Well, you'd run around juggling knives in shoes twice your size to see how long it would take them to realize that you'd accidentally stabbed yourself, hopefully if they failed in their mission to take care of you they would return to their graves and you back to your normal life, which now seemed be much more fun than being trapped with pangea survivors.

At least now you have their attention, they will prevent you from tripping down the stairs, from burning yourself trying to cook, they will even go to the point of scolding you if you stay up late, indeed, none of them ─except for Kira─ knew what it was like to deny doing things to a teenager, so you moved on to your disobedience phase, you weren't that much of a brat, at this point you were doing it just to annoy these guys, although your real problem was with the Speedwagon foundation, since they were the ones who deemed you "fit" to show them empathy and a new way of seeing life peacefully.

The foundation definitely didn't take a psychological test before making that decision, they think you are a psychologist, and you are the one who needs a psychologist, you are definitely not the person who can fix them.

At first you thought you were locked in with them, but in truth, they are the ones locked in with you.

#jojos bizarre adventure #platonic reader #gn reader #jojo's x reader #jofoes #jofoes x platonic reader #gn teen reader #sfw #request #reader insert #villains x reader #villains x platonic reader #i love teen reader bru #jofoes x teen reader

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traegorn · 2 years ago

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I know for a fact i’m a witch. But i’m new to Wicca and Witchcraft. What do you write in a grimoire? Is Ouija harmful to do by yourself?

So these are two very different questions.

So, a grimoire. I'm assuming you're in your year and a day of study - as you're expected to spend that time learning as much as you can before you actually get initiated or self dedicate as a Wiccan.

So in Wicca we usually call the book we use a Book of Shadows, but you can call it whatever you want. I assume you're an eclectic solitary Wiccan like me from the nature of the question, so what you're doing here is building your practice through the book.

Like, as a Wiccan, you'll want to start things off with some sort of a dedication. I recommend then including some of the basics, like definitions, the rede, if you want your personal tradition to have any additional rules, something about the God and Goddess (most folks use some version of the Charge of the God and the Charge of the Goddess), the wheel of the year and what each holiday means, how to cast a circle... I also have a whole history of Wicca section in mine.

...you're building a guide to your tradition. For yourself.

I recommend on these early pages giving yourself some space on the pages in case you, like, change your mind about something.

Trying a spell? Write it down. Write down any results you do (or don't) have. If you use correspondences, you're not going to remember all of those -- write it down. I have the solstices/equinoxes and moon phases charted out for years at the back of mine too. Frankly, writing things down helps a lot of folks learn things better even if they never end up rereading it. A lot of us will do some journaling about our experiences too --

I also recommend leaving yourself a blank page or so at the beginning as a table of contents you can update as you go, and number pages as you add stuff to the book. That will make life so much easier if you need to find something ten years down the line.

Also, don't be afraid of screwing up the book. While I've had my current Book of Shadows for almost fifteen years, I've been a witch for twenty-five. I literally had like three different versions of my Book of Shadows before this.

So that's that.

As for Ouija... please remember that it is a mass produced product made by the same company that makes Transformers on the same production lines as Monopoly. You can reach out to things using it, but the items themselves are just cardboard and plastic.

The rule of thumb is whenever you're reaching out to something and inviting it to the table, you need to properly ward and protect yourself. You set the rules at your table, and you keep to them.

You started out your ask with "I know for a fact i’m a witch," and I mean, it's great you feel so certain. But just remember, what makes someone a Witch is making the choice to be one and not some predetermined, fated or destined thing.

We make our destinies around here.

#witch #witchcraft #wicca #pagan #witchblr

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literary-illuminati · 2 years ago

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Book Review 3 - Last Exit by Max Gladstone

Okay, book review number 3! This was a denser read than the last few books I’ve gone through – I think it literally had more words per page than standard? Or maybe just a heavier writing style.

Now to be clear this isn’t any sort of complaint – I absolutely adored this book (So, thanks a million to @booksandchainmail and @circletofcircles for pointing me towards it!). Feels like I was leaving a bookmark every few pages because there was a passage that really jumped out at me I wanted to save. I had to just start tearing up whatever receipts I had handy every bookmarks at a certain point. Between this and This Is How You Lose The Time War, I absolutely need to hunt down some more of Gladstone’s stuff (I say, as if I don’t already have Empress of Forever out form the library and sitting on my dresser).

So, the story doesn’t make any direct reference to Lovecraft – and it is otherwise not shy at all about making direct references. There are like a half-dozen places where I could just tell what book/article/discourse Gladstone had on his mind as he wrote it, even leaving aside the e.g. place literally named Elsinore – but it honestly did a better job of being an anti-cosmic horror story than a lot of the stuff that says on its face it’s About Deconstructing Lovecraft does, at least imo?

The alien is terrible, and terrifying. It’s vaster than you can imagine, and it will destroy everything about the life you know. It whispers to the desperate and forgotten, speaks and promises to those who’d cast aside the world for something, anything, else. Fighting it is miserable, and bloody, and leaves you ruined in body and soul. But saving the world requires sacrifice, requires hard lines and desperate measures.

But, well, have you taken a look at the world recently? How sure are you it’s better than what lies beyond it? How much killing are you willing to do, off that surety?

And the book is excellent is getting that sense of desperation, of sunk costs and impending doom and making it feel like the only real choices are finding a bit of happiness for you and yours and shutting out the bigger picture, or making yourself a sin eater shoring up a rotting foundation. Also just generally, at giving a sense of poverty and desperation and impending collapse.

I’d say the resolution and epilogue feel a little saccharine, but that really very much the point – cast aside the gods we’ve made to rule over us, and the world really will be as good and kind as you’ve never dared to dream it might be. It’s a very anarchist story, that way.

The villain’s really fascinating, honestly. Like, in a certain very pat sense, it’s the embodiment of settler colonialism – a cowboy in a white hat who is watching you through every NSA back door in every phone camera – but it’s a bit more fundamental than that. (Also, weirdly not that racist or homophobic, given that)

I mean in one sense, like, the Cowboy’s whole thesis is that the world is basically awful, and anything good for anyone comes only at a cost to someone else, and that if you want a comfortable life for you and yours, you better have some men with guns willing to keep the people your comfort is taken from from tearing it back with interest. All of his associations are with civilization – roads, cities, cameras, guns, hierarchy writ large – are you get the sense that all the specific referents are about Manifest Destiny, the core is very, well, we’ve all read Against the Grain, right? The passages about how the first city walls were probably built to keep people in as much as out seem relevant, especially.

Or – there was a Tides of History episode a few weeks back about the Assyrian Empire, and how according to royal theology Ashur the god WAS Ashur the City, and the spread of the empire was the ordering of the world according to Ashur’s laws was in a sense the spread of Ashur himself. That feels like a comparison the book would have drawn, if the subject had come up.

But I’m rambling and only barely coherently, so will stop myself there – book’s not perfect, by any means, have some nitpicks with the plot, the direct references to contemporary politics get a bit didactic feeling and tired when you’re getting them with the same perspective from four/five POVs, the finale kind of descends into melodrama – but really lovely book, would recommend.

(also – it’s not really relevant to anything, but between this and Ninth House what the fuck is up with Yale? )

#Last Exit #Max Gladstone #sff #book review

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thedemonsurfer · 1 year ago

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Okay, yes, but also no.

This is a very useful series of checkpoints, but it presents the idea that you need to have a complex structure set up before you can begin writing.

And I dunno about you, but that kinda thing just doesn't work for me. So imma try to revise things into something that might be more useful.

How Do I Plot A Book (like this fool right here)?

0. You Are The Master Of Your Own Destiny

Whenever I talk about making an outline, folks always seem to shrivel up like shrinky dinkys at the idea of being 'limited'. But, here's the thing:

You wrote the outline.

You can change the outline at any time.

Keep this in mind at all times. Is a scene you planned not working? Ditch it. Came up with a new idea? Add it into the outline. The outline isn't a static cage that you HAVE to stick to, it's a roadmap to help keep you from getting lost, written by YOU.

Start with an idea

Okay agreed, 100%, but also a little redundant if you're looking up how to plot a story. I assume you came here with an idea in hand already.

2. Outline your Plot Structure

Introduction STOP. Pull up your writing medium of choice: a word processing program, the notes app on your phone, a piece of paper. Got it? Good. I want you to write down 4 things for me.

What is this story about? Examples:

A disgraced war hero adopts an orphan who resembles the demon he failed to defeat.

A should-be-dead man escapes a magical prison, but frees more than just himself; also there's kissing.

A kid meets a friendly robot who helps him escape an elaborate trap; they become family.

Where does this story start? What is the Really Cool Thing in the middle? Where does this story end?

These key points (Beginning, Middle, End, and Core Concept) are the backbone of the story. More importantly, they are words on the paper.

Congratulations, you have started plotting your story for real!

3. Take Notes

Start writing down information you think is important. This includes world-building facts, character trivia, and plot points that you'd like to hit. Do not worry about being thorough! I know you've sat there and daydreamed up some stuff already, so start writing it down.

For plot points, try to arrange them in roughly chronological order as you think of it now-- but be open to changing things in the future. The more ideas you come up with, the easier it is to figure out where the next one slots in.

4. Tell A Friend, Sort Of

Start writing out your story as if you're telling it to a friend. You can use an actual friend for this, but you have to use a medium that keeps records (so type it, don't speak it aloud unless you're also recording yourself).

Don't worry about structure or fancy headings or terms like 'falling action'. Ideally the format should be something like "Okay so there's a guy, and he used to be the Count of this city-state, right? But then he caused a curse so he got locked in a magic prison for like 10 years. And then this other guy, actually the Count's Doctor-- he ends up finding him in a pub after he escaped that prison". And so on and so forth.

It's okay if you don't have everything yet! You just started, you'll have time to work things out later. The important part is that you summarize the events you want to see happen, in chronological order. If your story is episodic rather than having a continuous narrative, bullet points of things you want to see happen works just as well.

Congratulations, you've started your outline!

5. Add, Revise, Rinse, Repeat

Here's where things get personal-- as in, it depends on how you, personally, write best, and my advice might become extra useless. But basically: look at what you need and then give it to yourself.

Are you most comfortable writing chronologically? Then take a look at your outline and see if you have enough information to start writing the story from the beginning. If not, head to your notes section and do some more daydreaming until you know how you want to begin, then start writing.

Do you not have a clear idea of the beginning, but you do have some scenes strongly in mind? Go ahead and write them now! At worst you'll have to scrap the scene later, but you'll have something down, and you can use that something to build other things.

Do you have dialogue for some scenes, but not the action? Well go ahead and write the dialogue! Put in a brief summary of what the action around it should be ("it's night time and he's mad about getting stabbed") and then go. Same thing with description with no clear dialogue-- summarize what should be there, but leave it for later.

Always be adding to your notes, revising your outline, adding more scenes you think would be cool. Try out different ideas, see if events can't be moved around. The further you get the more solid things will become.

6. Some Experience Needed

A lot of the stuff in the original essay, like foreshadowing, subplots, etc; aren't things you can just sit down and come up with on the fly. Sure, you can think of one or two, maybe, but inspiration tends to hit in the moment, when you realize 'oh shit I can tie these things together here, and that becomes foreshadowing over there'.

Unfortunately, the only way to get better with those kinds of things is experience. Pay attention to some of your favorite stories and see how they did things, and really analyze why it worked on you. Write down notes: what did the character do here? what happened there? how was this bit foreshadowing?

7. Pacing

Pacing gets its own category because I legitimately don't know how you're supposed to learn this any way other than experience and intuition. If you write a lot, eventually you will get a feel for 'this scene is too fast' or 'there needs to be a longer gap between these events". As far as I know there are no shortcuts, just tens of thousands of words under your belt. Don't worry about it for now, just do your best, and you will improve.

8. General Advice

Start a graveyard document. Eventually you will write a scene that just does not work for whatever reason. Instead of trying to force it to fit so you don't lose all that work, move it to a separate document. If you've ever heard the term 'kill your darlings', this is what it's referring to: cutting a section that you really like because it's not working.

Don't kill your darlings, rehome them. You'll be surprised at how much easier it is to accept. You can can always pull a scene back in if you find a new place for it, or mine it for tidbits.

You will get stuck. Accept this. You will always be able to find your way back out. Maybe you'll have to delete a previous section because you wrote yourself into a dead end, maybe you'll have to leave it for another day, maybe you just need to talk it over with someone.

It does not have to be perfect the first time. Or the second, or third. I'm most familiar with writing fanfiction, which is published pretty raw-- but normal books aren't published chapter by chapter with the ink still drying. Normally you finish your draft, then go back months later and revise the whole thing. If what you're writing is a more traditional book, you can always fix things later. If you're writing a fic, you can still fix things later.

It's okay to give up. Maybe you've changed your mind and you don't like your story anymore. That's fine! Save it somewhere and then forget about it. Don't delete it, just keep it. Maybe one day you'll come back-- and if not, you still have the experience from your attempt!

However, try to stick with it. You know your brain best; if you know you're prone to fits of self depreciation and feeling like what you make is 'bad', try to ride those out before giving up. Maybe your story is fine, actually, and your brain just hates you extra hard right now.

Writing is fucking hard. Inspiration can only get you so far, there are going to be points when you're slogging through it a word at a time. This is normal, you aren't struggling because you're 'bad'.

There is no such thing as wasted effort. All effort is experience, all experience is growth.

Uuuh yeah that's what i got, happy writing

How do i Plot a Book?

1. Start with an Idea:

Begin with a clear idea or concept for your story. This could be a theme, a character, a setting, or a unique scenario.

2. Outline Your Plot Structure:

- Introduction: Set the stage by introducing your main character, the setting, and the initial situation.

- Inciting Incident: Present a problem or event that disrupts the status quo and sets the story in motion.

- Rising Action: Develop the plot by introducing conflicts, challenges, and obstacles that the protagonist faces.

- Climax: Reach the story's highest point of tension and conflict where the protagonist confronts the main challenge.

- Falling Action: Address the aftermath of the climax, tying up loose ends and resolving subplots.

- Conclusion: Provide a resolution to the main conflict, wrap up the story, and show the character's growth or change.

3. Create Well-Defined Characters:

- Develop your main character (protagonist) with clear goals, motivations, and flaws.

- Introduce supporting characters with distinct personalities and roles in the story.

4. World-Building:

If your story is set in a unique or fictional world, develop the setting, rules, and details necessary for readers to understand the environment.

5. Conflict and Stakes:

Ensure that your story has compelling conflicts that drive the plot forward. Make the stakes clear to the reader.

6. Subplots:

Develop subplots that add depth and complexity to your story and intersect with the main plot at various points.

7. Foreshadowing:

Use foreshadowing to hint at future events and create suspense.

8. Pacing:

Balance action, dialogue, and introspection to control the pace of your story. Speed up or slow down as needed for dramatic effect.

9. Themes and Messages:

Consider the themes or messages you want to convey through your story and how the plot can reflect them.

10. Outline Chapter by Chapter:

Create a chapter-by-chapter outline that details what will happen in each section of your book. This doesn't need to be overly detailed, but it can serve as a roadmap.

11. Writing and Revising:

Start writing your book based on your outline. Be open to changes and revisions as your story develops.

#long post #procrastinates on writing by writing about writing

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thedeliblog · 2 years ago

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#500 An exclusive interview with myself

Deli Skate Blog was born on 24th March 2020. in adverse times, but thank God, the world of skateboarding has never been slowed down. Now, after more than two years we can celebrate the 500th blog post. Even if you don’t know who is behind the blog, now it’s to be revealed. An exclusive interview with myself. Make yourself comfortable and have fun reading.

Hi!

Tricky situation is this. I don’t really used to talk to myself, maybe only in times if I have to make a wise decision or I tend to evaluate a season within myself.

Nice touch! So how would you evaluate the last couple of years?

Regarding to?

Regarding to the blog.

The idea of this blog was circulating much more earlier, but arrived to its destiny only during the quarantine of covid. That was the time when I decided to post a video every single day until the quarantine would last. Since the lock-down hasn’t lasted for so long, but daily content creating has become a habit, and traveling in time two years, now we are at the 500th article.

Congratulations! But if I do the math you couldn’t keep up with the daily posting.

There are seasons when I’m literally not able to write beside my family and my job. And it’s not even an easy task to select a reasonable content.

That means you are filtering. Based on what? In other words, what’s the purpose of Deli Skate Blog?

You have a good sense connecting the two. The main principle is to “Entertain & Educate”, which means finding a good balance between entertainment and education, teaching and discipline. Nowadays tons of content wants our attention from every kind of sources. In my opinion not all of them are relevant. So we arrived to our first guiding principle. Another one is coming from the belief that we see and watch too many things that we shouldn’t. Today’s culture offers freedom in its own particular way, but not everything is good just because it was posted or was brought into your attention.

I don’t get it.

I tend to use contents that influence my audience in a positive way. That e.g. do not encourage drinking, smoking just to have an example, and leastwise profanity is minimalized.

But you were a youngster too.

I don’t feel myself old either and of course even if I understand and comprehend these behaviours I don’t think they’re good or would be virtues, neither I think they should be followed or copied. That’s why I share rather paths of lives which, at a certain point, arrived to the valley of decision, had to make a choice and then were turned 180 degrees. There are a lot of dramatic experience among well known skateboarders too but we see the so called catharsis or positive turnbacks as well. I try to dig up these stories to show them.

Tough ground. Because then you have to watch every single piece, have to read through everything to check if it fits. And it’s not sure even then that you can create a post out of it. Can you remember of something that didn’t make it at the end?

I remember some cases when the last some seconds cancelled to whole thing to be posted.

Ok. Then what’s the deal with entertainment?

Loads of content floods us every day nearly everywhere. I used to dare to think, who is reading Deli, shall get the whole picture even he doesn’t follow any other sources. This isn’t our goal of course, but if someone wants to have a nice dish he can eat it in our space, we used to say. The main focus is to have recent topics, news but we shall talk about the roots and the history of skateboarding as well. Skateboarding has its own philosophical depths that we can only understand interpret by and through the respect of the generations before. Then when I choose a certain content I post it in a digestable way, I write only that many text to a video with which it can be put in the context. I used to translate interviews and I show excerpts of old magazines and books. I deal mostly with american skateboarding, because that’s what I like and know, but I like to have delicacies from here and there too.

Coming back to the education of people part for a moment. It sounds a little bit rigorous to me. Why is it not at the end?

I try to explain it through an example. If skateboarding had its beginnings in the 70s, then it had its adolescent years in the 80s, became a young adult in the 90s and now it is deeply in its B-side of midlife. If I follow this analogy, which is now important but was not in teenagerhood is mostly nutrition and purposeful workout. So we have encouraging posts to make more and focused warm-ups, do workout so we could skate for longer without injuries.

Sounds like a PE teacher. I agree that this is not the most important thing for teenagers and not even in the 20s.

It’s not in focus and not even something like an investment for later. Nowadays we can see a lot of pro skaters complementing their skateboarding with workout and special trainings in order to be better at skateboarding. This is not lame it’s good.

At this point I take the opportunity to ask: Olympics or not?

For sure it’s a divisive topic. In my opinion, becoming a sport in the olympics is an acknowledgement that more and more skaters do it on a very high level. This way skateboarding is getting more recognition which is good for the industry, higher amounts are flowing into it. On the other hand for sure skateboarding would loose something from its subcultural substance and kind of exclusivity, where we have to be careful not to let loose its whole taste.

Are you telling me that in the future skateboarding would disappear from the streets and would be pushed back to skateparks?

No. But there will be generations who will grow up in skateparks, will train in skateparks and will consider and will practice skateboarding as a sport. For them skateboarding on the streets wouldn’t mean anything, neither the subcultural involvement, including dress codes or clothing habits. But competitions have always been a part of skateboarding. In the 80s tricks were invented during competitions. Skateboarding today is very versatile and colorful so I think olympics would fit in the picture too.

Who are your favourite skateboarders of today?

I have a lot, but whom I really like to watch are: Erik Herrera, Walker Ryan, Deedz, Mark Suciu, John Shanahan, Brad Comer, Tom Karangelov.

They are more likely the mainstream. Anyone else?

Ok, then: Nyle Lovett, Brian Delatorre, Aleka Lang, Hosea Peeters or in the middle field: Max Palmer, Cyrus Bennett.

No Nyjah nor Tyshawn?

Smart. They are the two extremes of the equation. Nyjah has never been among my favourites, but I really appreciate his performance. Eventually he has built up some kind of a rockstar-athlete lifestyle, which is strange for some, while he put everything on it, there are a lot of work and suffer invested into the whole thing. On the other end Tyshawn is a rockstar too, but he is more likely one of us. We don’t see him that much, but it doesn’t mean he is not doing awesome things.

Old school ones?

Oh yeah. I started skateboarding in 1991 in Szeged and after that I found myself and spent most of my best skateboarding in the middle of an era in which nearly every year something new happened and something changed drastically. From the shapes of the decks to the sizes of wheels and jeans nearly everything had its upside-downs and back. As of the opinion of many, that was the golden era of skateboarding, which happened in the same time as my teenagehood so it made a deep impression on me. My alltime favourites are: Mike Carroll, Rick Ibaseta, Lavar McBride, Weston Correa, Shawn Mandoli, Steve Caballero.

You have now everything here like in a grocery store. Do these things fit altogether?

Everyone gets his own inspiration out of different things. After all that’s why we watch skate videos. Or before social media rather to follow up what was happening, who was who and what were the trends. Nowadays more likely to have a spark to go to skateboarding. It’s not so easy to maintain motivation and to be inspired constantly, but a wide selection is given so everyone can have his regular motivaton for a nice session.

What do you like in a video?

I like the harmony of all components. I mean good skateboarding should be matched with good music. I need the harmony this way. Style, music, mood.

That’s all?

Basically yes. Additionally I miss the lines in today’s videos. We see nearly only solo tricks, maybe a bridging trick plus.

What’s the problem with this?

A line is happening on spot, real time so to speak. For me it gives back more the feeling and the relation between the skater and the streets or spots. Solo tricks, in most of the cases, are practiced for month before they are done and recorded. Don’t misunderstand me I’m not questioning that these tricks are legit I’m just talking about the proportions. I enjoi flow more. Alright, one more thing. For me hillbomb is a no go. I don’t like it, but this is my personal opinion.

Deli or déli?

Deli of course. (Déli means “Southern” in Hungarian)

What’s that then?

You said it some minutes ago. By definition: ‘Delicatessen’ or shortly ‘Deli’ is a retail establishment, which sells a selection of fine, exotic or foreign prepared foods often known as delicacies.

So?

I really like the concept of those cornerstores in New York where you can have a wide range of goods supplemented with special food, sandwiches and coffee. Or in which you can only eat good food. These are the Delis.

“Vegetables, sandwiches and coffee to go from the world of skateboarding.” Now I quoted.

Exactly. I’m writing about fine things with good taste, often rarities. If for no other reason that they appear in a Hungarian blog. As I told you earlier, people visiting us regularly would be up to date what’s happening in skateboarding.

Shouldn’t be considered something as a retail establishments if it’s selling something? A blog can only offer.

That’s why I launched a skateshop too.

Which is…

Deli Home Skateshop. I suppose I should explain…

Yes, please…

Now we know what a Deli is. Skateshop is clear too. Home in the name refers to a model in which I take advantage of the fact that I like to speak a lot about skateboarding in person, so I do it in our home, where the shop is located too. Even beside a coffee we can find out the best setup for you or can have a discussion on the latest magazine cover or can repair your semi-destroyed accessories. As I used to say, we are at home in skateboarding. Now I was the one who quoted. Whoever has been at us can prove that I like to taylor-make and personalize everything I suggest and sell.

Did you have a clear path from the blog to the shop?

Literally not and not even theoretically. Actually the shop was the first. I dealt with second hand accessories through a webshop.

Which died.

Not exactly. I let it die, because I didn’t had the time and energy to run it.

So the shop returned. As I see you don’t have too many brands.

The goal is to have brands I believe are special ones in a way representing raw street skateing, supplemented with others which are well known and supposed to be top quality ones. We have a lot of brands from New York.

If I’m right when you are at home, the shop is at home too.

Something like that.

What if I wanted to buy a beanie at 9 pm?

Then you drop me a line, most probably you come by and you leave with your new beanie.

I usually see around you this dot-dot-comma-dash thing.

You mean the ‘dotboard’.

Can be.

If I would like to interpret it in a philosophical way, I would say the blog, the writing is rooted in skateboarding and this skateboard shaped of punctuation marks and dashes, which I call the dotboard, is coming from the writing. So the formation of dash-dot-dash-dash-dot-dash became our logo. This kind of small skateboard can be easily inserted into any chat flow of text messages too.

What’s the situation here at home? I mean in Hungary?

In Hungary more and more people are skateboarding, parks are built a lot of good circumstances are given. I hope more and more talented skateboarders will grow up who will dedicate themselves and be very counscious and disciplined in what they want to reach with their skateboarding. Now we can see that the range of ages involved are wider so every age group wants to have possibilities and spaces according to their very own abilities and understanding. It would be optimal if everyone’s taste could be taken into consideration.

What can you to this issue?

Entertain & educate. In addition I try to back good initiatives and support dreams come true. I hope I can add my long lasting enthusiasm for skateboarding which would motivate others as well. -.—.-

I’m thankful for all of you who read, follow, ever read, ever followed, will read, will follow, and trust in what we write on this blog. You are keeping this blog alive and I wish you can skate as long as you want and to live your everyday lives in constant inspiration. Spread the good news!

#deli skate blog #deli home skateshop #deli #interjú magammal #exkluzív

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

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A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

2K notes · View notes

bigboomboi · 3 years ago

Text

Kindered Sparks

This is my entry for @gg9183’s soulmate collab - Oof, I was almost late for your birthday ( I know that I'm technically no where near late, but I put this out so much later than I would've rathered. Sorry, I'm a Virgo, mate.) Anyhoo! Happy Birthday! And congratulations on your amazing Milestone! Thank you for organizing this collab too and allowing me to be apart of it! Honestly, I love soulmate pieces so much, so I was so excited seeing this prompt (I'm excited to read the others as well!) My friend helped me put together an idea for a SM connection and I really enjoyed writing it, hope you do as well :) Happy reading!

Fem!reader x Denki Kaminari

Soulmates au; People are born with a dream realm connecting them to their Soulmate. Warning; harsh language, Hurt/comfort, pretty fluffy, cursing. Implied readerxfemale relationship. BakuKiri relationship (I got bullied last time I didn't say that was a pairing, so, just being safe)

Word count; 4.6K

“Another lonely night in this stupid world.” Y/N grumbled staring up at her dreamy night sky.

A sky she was supposed to share with someone else.

In this wonderful, bittersweet world, you were tied to another person. Destiny decided from day one of your birth who you’d be with for the rest of your life and then set you in a special plane of existence only accessible when you fell asleep, once you turned the ripe age of fifteen. The kindred-plane.

A place specially made for you and your soulmate to meet each night when you fall asleep. It was a place to get to know each other without the prying eyes of all those around. A shared dream land you could even decorate and make your own. It was your partner’s and your safe space.

It was a place you guys could explore together, where your imaginations combined like an amazing world of minecraft. Some people made completely different lives in their heads at night. Others used it to see their long distance lovers. Hell, there was a blog story sharing what sounded like a whole scripted tv show where a woman’s soulmate had set off to save her from an uncompromising kingdom.

Sadly though, your shared safe space could be destroyed in a matter of moments. It wasn’t unheard of for your soulmate to reject destiny’s plan and divide your dreams. You could absolutely reject your soulmate and quite literally lock them out of your dreams. All presence of them would disappear from your dreams within a few nights, sometimes even faster, and you’d be left alone with only your creations.

Of course, being divided from your soulmate hurt. But something hurt much worse.

Your soulmate being unintentionally stolen from you. A divide where you lose your soulmate despite neither saying they’d like to divide. A situation where your soulmate dies.

Y/N sighed at the reminiscent of her once was soulmate. So sweet and kind, someone Y/N fully imagined meeting one day in the daylight. Yet, now at the sad age of seventeen, Y/N had no dreams of ever seeing her soulmate ever again.

She only had the one year of memories they made…

“Class, This Y/N. She will be joining our class for her final year of hero training, treat her well.” Aizawa introduced her to the class of 3-A.

“Thank you, Sensei” Y/N bowed slightly. “Nice to meet you all.”

Not even a moment of silence was granted before the class erupted in questions. Half about her quirk, the other half about where she was from. A few off hand questions about why she transferred. All a mess.

“Enough!” Aizawa shouted, hushing the entire class. “You all can get to know her later, on your own terms. For now, Y/N please take your seat.”

Y/N nodded and scurried back to the only free seat in the back. Between a pretty pinkette and sweet looking round faced brunette. Before she was even seated, Aizawa began his lesson.

Y/N quietly sat through the classes of her day, ignoring the judging looks aimed her way, as the new girl. She could hear the quiet whispers going around, speculating what type of person she was and tried to ignore those as well. She was well aware of the fact that she appeared very off-standish.

Dark eye bags, complete resting bitch face that quite literally screamed ‘I will stab you with a pencil if you speak to me’, earbuds tucked into each ear and a hunched over form that could rival Quasimodo. Thankfully, the aura she set into place actually warded off her new classmates for several days.

Up until a week later in the common room where her bubble was invaded.

She didn’t look up at the person sitting next to her and subtly tried to turn up her music. She felt the presence of several others join her and they all stared at her silently until finally, the pinkette she sat next to on her first day, plucked her book from her hands. Y/N slowly looked up at her dully and raised an eyebrow.

She reached out for her book, but the girl pulled it back out of her reach. She tried again, reaching forwards further, but the book was yoinked by a strip of tape, pulling it across the coffee table. Gritting her teeth slightly, Y/N stood up to reach across the table and the music in her ears paused.

The girl had unplugged her headphones.

“You just have no regard for personal belongings of others, hm?” Y/N sighed, sitting down.

“We just want to get to know our new classmate!” The pink girl grinned. “I’m Mina!”

“Hi, Mina. Now give me back my shit.” Y/N tried to grab her phone, only for someone behind her to tug her ear buds away. “Seriously?”

“We’ll give you back your things if you let us get to know you.” Mina smiled.

“Or, you could just give it back.” Y/N tried to grab her earbuds from the bright blonde behind her.

“Nope.’ He said, a grin on his face as well. “I’m Kaminari Denki, nice to meet ya, beautiful.”

Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “Or, I could just take my stuff back.”

“You could but there’s five of us and one of you, good luck.” A bitch faced blonde mumbled, flipping through her book.

“Fine. Here’s one thing about me.” Suddenly she appeared behind the bitch blonde and snatched her book. Another one of her appeared behind the one who taped her book away and grabbed her book mark. Two other Y/N’s came into existence on opposite sides of her seating couch to grab her phone and ear buds. All while the original Y/N sat in her place. “Don’t touch my things.”

“Woah, you can make multiple you’s!” The redhead gasped excitedly. “That’s so manly!”

“That’s so cool! They feel so real!” Kaminari said, poking the side of the one near him. It yelped and swatted his hand.

“They are real! Don’t poke me, I’m ticklish!” Y/N snapped, rubbing her side.

“Woah, can you feel this?’ The tape one reached out to pinch the clone’s arm.

Y/N’s other clone smacked him with her book. “Yes, I can feel that! Ow!”

“So your quirk is duplicating yourself? Boring…” Bitch face rolled his eyes, another Y/N appeared behind him and swatted the back of his head.

“My quirk is omni-replication. I can create continuous versions of myself and others. But they can act on their own.” Y/N sighed, bringing herself her book.

“Woah, make another me!” Kaminari grabbed her arm.

“G-Get off of me!” Y/N shoved him away, ignoring the literal spark between them. “I can’t make one of you now!”

“But you just said-.” Mina tried.

“I have to know your ins and outs. Otherwise I’d just make a weird melty blob of you.” Y/N sighed. “I need to know more about you guys before I can make you. I need to know you, how you fight, how your quirk works, I need to know how to play the game before I can participate.”

“So, what I’m hearing is…” Mina smirked. “You need to get to know us to succeed.”

“Oh god…” Y/N groaned. “I have no choice in this do I?”

“We have a specialty of making friends with people that don’t want to be friends.” The red head threw his arm over bitch face’s shoulder.

And thus a new friendship was born.

“Bakugo, why do you keep moving my pillow in our dreams, it’s so not manly.” Kirishima whined.

“Neither is the massive rock sitting in the middle of nowhere, dude.” Bakugo argued.

“It’s not just a rock.” Kirishima mock sniffled. “It’s a boulder.”

Y/N snickered at the reference that earned the kind redhead a smack to the back of his head. “Are you delivering pizza on it?”

“Yes!” Kiri grinned.

“No! Don’t encourage him!” Bakugo shouted.

“Aye, don’t shout at me. Your boyfriend is a literal rock, he’s encouraging himself.” Y/N laughed, throwing a fry at him.

“Oh yeah, what trash has your soulmate cluttered in your dream world?” Bakugo argued back.

Y/N’s laughter silenced and immediately her lips curled into a scowl. A light switched on and they remembered the one rule they had set in place. No one talks about Y/N’s soulmate. Or lack thereof.

“Bakugo!” Mina snapped.

“Shit, I didn’t-.” Y/N didn’t give him the time to apologize and stood up from the lunch table.

“Wait, no, Y/N! He didn’t mean to!” Kaminari grabbed her arm.

She flicked him in the forehead and pulled away. “No, it’s fine. You guys talk about your soulmate shit, I’m going to the training field.”

“Wait, Y/N, really!” Mina tried. “It’s just, we’re so used to casually talking about it!”

“I don’t care if you guys talk about yours, but you know I don’t have one, so we don’t bring up mine!” She huffed, before taking a breath. “You know what? Never mind.”

Y/N ignored her friend’s protest and stomped out of the dinning hall. She rushed to the training area, stopping by the locker room to change and grab gear, briefly.

Activating her quirk she began fist fighting her clone, taking her anger out on herself. Very early on into her friendship with the group she told them she didn’t want to talk about the soulmate shit. At least not her own. She told them she didn’t have one, leaving them to believe she never did.

They were incredibly understanding after they found that it upset her. So much, to the point that she copied Kirishima to punch himself when he kept asking. After that ordeal and several days of being ignored, they respected her wishes of not bringing it up.

She knocked herself down and punched herself in the face. She turned off the connection to the clone so she wouldn’t feel the pain herself. Disconnected clones only had a few minutes to live really and faded away with enough damage. Once that one faded, she created another in its space and continued pounding away.

“Stupid soulmate bullshit.” She huffed each word with a punch. “Stupid divide rule.” Another clone. “Stupid. Fucking. Erg- Everything!”

Y/N beat her final clone to death and didn’t bring a new one out. She sniffled, the tears she’d been holding back for years now finally breaking her dam. She hated the horrible lonely feeling she had been surrounded by for so long. She missed out on so much sleep, just to avoid going to her dream world. She set alarms to wake her up every hour or so to stay away from it and at this point, she was losing her mind.

She cried more thinking back to the last time she had been in her kindred-plane. She’d avoided it for a few days before exhaustion actually hit her like a bus and made her sleep. This time her plain little dream seemed to have adopted new items in her absence.

A bundle of comic books, a guitar, even a really, really big pikachu plushie.

Not that they were placed anywhere in particular. The guitar was outside of the little home she had reimagined, laying haphazardly on the ground. The pikachu was placed in front of a tree, facing it and the books were strewn across her loveseat couch. It was like her dream realm had become a lost and found for thrown away items from other planes. Which, honestly, Y/N could believe, as she didn’t use it so much.

She wished she could just give away her realm and dream of nothingness.

“Y/N?” She jumped, hearing her name and quickly wiped away her tears, ignoring the way they stung her open knuckles.

“Kaminari, I’m not really in the mood to talk.” Y/N muttered.

“Okay, that’s fine. We both know I talk enough for the both of us.” He joked, coming to sit in front of her.

Y/N turned to look away from his seating and ignored him, but he set off into a spiel about a new game he got. He did what he did best when one of his friends were upset, he talked. And normally that worked, but minutes into his yabbering, she started crying again.

“Hey, no! No crying! Crying is sad!” Kaminari tried.

“I am sad Kami!” She snapped. “I am really fucking sad! Everyone gets to have stupid fucking soulmate but me! And all because mine fucking died!”

Kaminari immediately paused his frantic attempts to calm her. “Huh, I thought you said you didn’t have one?”

“I don’t because she died! My god damn soulmate died literally months after meeting each other damn it!” Y/N yelled, sinking her fingers into her hair. “And now my kindred-plane is empty and lonely and shit keeps getting piled into it like a fucking trash can!”

Kaminari was silent for a moment while she cried. He slowly crawled over, closer to her and pulled her into a hug. This wasn’t a moment for talking randomly and he knew that. So they sat for the rest of the lunch period in silence, save for her soft hiccups.

After that, somehow, Y/N started talking to her friends the next day. She rationalized that it wasn’t their fault she was sensitive about the subject, they didn’t deserve the aggression. So with a tense apology, she was back to sitting with them at lunch and hanging out.

Y/N was determined to not let her disrupted dreamland destroy her outside reality.

“Okay, really?” Y/N blinked at the ugly rug that appeared draped over her bookshelf. “How the hell did you even get there?”

She tugged it down and stared at it in disgusted contemplation. “Guess you get to go in front of the fireplace…”

Y/N walked towards the warmth and paused, noting that it felt like it took a few more steps than usual. She looked around and found that the picture she carefully centered on the wall was no longer centered. Was her house getting bigger? More and more shit was popping up out of nowhere and her place felt spaceyer…

“What the actual fuck universe?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and laid down the new rug.

An odd whooshing noise sounded behind her and she turned around to see a lamp fizzled into existence, a hand accompanying it this time. Y/N fumbled over own feet trying to hurry and grab it. Someone was putting shit in her realm and she was about to find out who.

Actually she wasn’t.

The moment she grabbed the hovering wrist, it was like she had rubbed her socks across her new rug a million times and then touched an outlet. The hand shocked her, hard. She yelped and fell backwards on her butt, accidently taking the lamp down too, except when it fell apart it fell backwards toward the floating hand and disappeared from her plane.

Y/N gasped sitting up out of her bed, the shock kicking her out of her own dream. “Ow, what the hell?”

Y/N looked over at her clock, finding that it was five in the morning. She sighed and climbed out of her bed, grabbing her ear buds and phone. There was no school the next day, it was Saturday so she aimed to sneak down to the common room and spend her day dead on the couch, fighting off sleep again.

Not ten minutes after snuggling into a comfy spot on the couch, it dipped slowly as someone sat on the other end of it. She looked up from her book, to find Kaminari on the other end. He held up a bag of doritos in exchange for her company.

“What are you doing up?” She asked, pulling out her ear buds.

“Got startled awake by something in my dream world.” He answered, holding the bag out to her.

“Ah, that sucks.” She hummed apologetically.

“What about you?” He asked carefully.

Y/N snorted. “Kami, you know I don’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’ve been up for the past few days.” He sighed, remembering seeing her in the kitchen at three am. “You’re going to trash your health if you don’t sleep.”

“Eh, it’s alright.” She crunched on a chip, before yawning. “Plus, you stay up every night gaming, bite me.”

“Gladly.” He winked. “But seriously, a lonely dream realm can’t be all bad.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was going to continue this topic of conversation. And he did. “I mean mine’s pretty lonely and I think it’s alright.”

“What?” She furrowed his eyebrows.

“My kindred-plane has but just me since like, forever, and I don’t think it’s that bad.” He shrugged.

Kaminari didn’t have a soulmate? That didn’t make sense, he’d tell them about all the adventures he’d run on in his dream. “You said you were helping some Jill girl fight zombies and stuff, just the other day.”

“Yeah, Jill Valentine. From Resident Evil.” He laughed. “I figured out a long time ago that I could just make her up in my dreams if I played the game until I fell asleep. She’s not my soulmate-.”

“You don’t have one…” Y/N whispered, sitting up.

“Nope, never did.” He offered her more chips, but Y/N just looked at him with sad eyes.

She cried in his arms about her soulmate dying and it turned out he never had one in the first place. “Don’t look so sad, Sunshine. It’s okay.”

“Denki, you don’t have a soulmate. That shit sucks.” Y/N flailed her hands.

“Yeah, but at least I didn’t get attached to mine and then they died. That sucks even more.” Kaminari argued.

Y/N slumped back against the couch. “This soulmate business is quite literal shit.”

“Yeah, but other people are pretty happy with it, so it’s okay to me really.” Kaminari hummed, nonchalantly. “Plus, no one can yell at me for my taste in decorations. That can really make or break a relationship ya know.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh yeah, totally. If my soulmate tried to decorate our space with half the shit that seems to appear in my room I’d have to throw hands.”

“Stuff appears in your dream?” Kaminari asked. “What, like, someone’s statue of Scooby doo?”

“Kaminari Denki, please tell me you don’t have a statue of Scooby doo in your kindred.” She tried not to laugh.

“No!” He said quickly. “I have a statue of Scrappy Doo.”

“Oh my god, no, you don’t!” She gasped.

“Yep! There’s a pond in front of my house and he’s in the dead center of it.” He grinned proudly. “And he looks amazing there.”

“Oh I bet he does.” Y/N snickered. “Bet he pulls the whole place together.”

“As a matter of fact he does.” Kaminari declared smugly. “What about your plane? What’s one big special thing you’ve got in it?”

Y/N hummed and thought for a second. “There’s a really big oak tree just behind my house and it’s covered in string lights, with a small ladder up the trunk. There’s a flat area in some of the branches so I can sit up there and read.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Kaminari said, fondly. “I have a tree kind of like that in mine too.”

“Does yours have a massive Pikachu in front of it?” She taunted, laughing.

She just barely missed the furrowing of his eyebrows before he answered. “I’m not entirely sure, I think, I’d have to take a look. I hope I do though, otherwise, I’d have to come steal yours.”

“Absolutely not! He’s my friend!” Y/N gasped and shoved at his leg. “Stick with your Scrappy Doo statue.”

Kaminari smiled. “Fine, fine. But if I don’t have a Pikachu in my dream, you owe me.”

“Mmhm, sure.” Y/N grinned.

For the next few months, Y/N and Kaminari grew closer, having bonded over their lack of soulmates. While they grew closer, not only did Y/N become happier, her kindred-plane seemed to get brighter, despite all the random things finding purchase in her realm and the fact that it was still growing. It was nice, she didn’t hate spending the night there anymore. She didn’t run into the disembodied hand anymore, but that was okay.

With what was happening in reality, she wasn’t too bothered by her dreams anymore. Instead, she focused on her friends, they were a wonderful reminder that life didn’t go to complete shit. For the first time, she actually let these people get close to her and drag her out of her hole she kept herself in.

… And out into the living room to watch the boys yell at each other over Mario Kart.

Y/N cursed and pushed Kaminari’s face away from her own as he laved his tongue across her cheek. “Denki, I swear to god if you don’t stop licking me, I’m going to bite you!”

“Ooh! Promise?” He flirted, smirking. “What else are you gonna do with that mouth?”

“Hurt your feelings, Sparkler boy.” She laughed, squishing his cheeks.

Kaminari threw himself into her arms, taking her to the floor. “So mean, I thought you loved me!”

“Oh yeah, she totally loves you with the way she made you beat yourself up today.” Bakugo snickered.

“Yeah, dude, she used your quirk against you better than you.” Kirishima pipped up.

“Hey, hey, clones don’t get fried when they use their ultimate! They just disappear and another one pops up!” Kaminari argued in defense.

“Jesus, Denki, you’re heavy!” Y/N shoved at his body, half heartedly. “Get off, you loser.”

“Uhg, fine, only because I have a race to win.” He rolled off her, to grab his switch controller.

“Oh thank god, I was going into the light for a second there.” Y/N gasped, dramatically.

Kaminari pinched her leg in retaliation. “Hey, I’m not that heavy!”

“Your head is though.” She stuck her tongue out.

“So mean.” He pouted as she turned to lay her head in his lap.

Y/N giggled as she pulled out her phone, to scroll through Tumblr for a fic to read. Moments went by before a snapchat notification popped up. Tapping on it, she found a common message from Mina.

‘You guys are too cute.’- Pinkiepie

‘We’re just friends, Mi.’-Y/N

A snap picture appeared in their feed and she tapped it open. There she was laying in Kaminari’s lap and there he was looking down at her, sweetly. ‘He’s giving you major heart eyes.’- Pinkiepie

‘Stop taking pictures of people, it’s stalkery.’- Y/N

‘That’s why you took a ss.’ -Pinkiepie

‘Oh fuck off.’- Y/N

‘Oh come on, just give him a chance, neither of you have sm’s so your not stealing him from anyone.’- Pinkiepie

‘You’re*’- Y/N

Y/N sighed and looked up to Kaminari’s face above hers. It apparently hadn’t been uncommon knowledge that Kaminari was Soulmateless, probably why the group had been so confused as to why she was so upset about it. It was normal to them, because it had always been Kaminari’s story.

Would it be so bad to make her own soulmate? Most divided soulmates stayed by themselves for the rest of their lives, but would it be alright if they didn’t?

“Oh, guys! I meant to tell you; I think I actually do have a soulmate!” Kaminari blurted into the air.

His admission quite literally derailed the entire room. Bakugo drove off the map in Mario Kart, Kirishima completely looked away from the game and Mina choked on her spit and her eyes flew to Y/N who paled significantly.

Sero was the only one who appeared unaffected. “Guys, he’s probably just saying that to throw us off, he’s in last.”

“I’m gonna blow you up, you put me in fourth with your little stunt.” Bakugo threatened.

“No, I’m serious!” Kaminari argued. “Over the last few months my dreams have been changing and stuff. Like it was making room for another person. My house is super spacy now, new decorations have been showing up for no reason, like there was a vase of flowers on the floor near my door, and my curtains changed colour, they’re a cute lavender colour now. Plus there’s a really big pikachu next to a beautiful oak tree in my yard.”

“Woah, dude, really?” Kirishima paused the race and turned to his friend.

“Yeah, totally.” Kaminari nodded, subtly looking down to meet Y/N’s wide eyes. “I was super confused for a while.”

“Holy shit, you’re serious.” Sero laughed. “Have you met them yet? Or are they just leaving surprises for you?”

“Well, I’ve seen her a few times, but I haven’t got the chance to talk to her yet, she wakes up pretty fast.” Kaminari shrugged.

“That’s so good Denki, I’m so happy for you.” Mina said softly as Y/N sat up.

“Me too, Denks. But speaking of waking up, I’m tired, so I’m gonna go take a nap.” Y/N hummed, yawning.

“Okay, see you later, Y/N.” They all chimed as she walked away.

“Yeah, see you later.” Kaminari called, carefully.

Y/N tried her best to contain herself and all but ran to her dorm. Along the way, her phone buzzed, no doubt a message from Mina. Once she was in her room, she flew to her bed, never had she been so eager to fall asleep before.

She quickly responded to Mina, ensuring her that she was alright and actually wanted to sleep. Y/N even sent her a reassuring picture of her smile with a short caption ‘I’m off to go see a Pikachu.’ After that, it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, but it was too long.

Y/N blinked open her eyes, finally appearing in her kindred-plane and spun around, trying to identify things in her dream house. She hurried to open the door and looked over to her tree, with the ever so famous Pikachu there. She turned and jogged in the opposite direction for the one thing she needed to see to make sure she was correct.

There it was. Scrappy Doo. In the middle of her pond.

Y/N jumped up and down, squealing to herself. It was happening, oh my god, it was happening. Now she just had to wait.

And wait she did. She had run back to her tree and climbed up to sit and await her soulmate. The soulmate she actually had again. Someone to share her dream world with again.

She had a soulmate.

Quietly for the next hour, Y/N sat and read one of her books, waiting almost patiently for him. She’d made it through the third chapter when a voice startled her away from the pages.

“Sorry, I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me.” Kaminari said, smiling.

Y/N bit her lip and grinned. “I thought you missed my cue for a bit there."

"No, I was just a little too excited to fall asleep." He crawled up into her tree nook. "You see, I suddenly got a new person roaming my world almost like, uh, a forever person or something. What's it called?"

"Mm, I don't know. Kinda sounds like you've got a soulmate there, Denki." Y/N whispered as he came closer.

"Fucking finally." He muttered, leaning forwards to connect their lips.

But before he could make contact he ran into her hand first. “But, really, we are going to have to talk about your decorating choices.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can talk about that after this.” Kaminari chuckled and moved her hand to kiss her.

#mha soulmate au #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari #bnha denki #bnha x reader #mha oneshot #bnha oneshots #fem reader #female reader #bi reader #pan reader #reader is attracted to multiple genders #gracies soulmate collab #soulmates au

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mysterytickingnoise · 3 years ago

Text

Someday

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Genre: Bittersweet Angst

Word Count: 2,058

Summary: After getting caught and accused of doing witchcraft, and failing to prove your innocence to Uther, you have to take desperate measures to flea the kingdom. Unfortunately your escape plan works a little too well, and without your knowledge the people close to you end up mourning you.

Request from @joyismycenter : "If you’re asking, I’d love some bbc Merlin x reader where he though the reader was dead but she/they turn out not to be. Love me that happy angst"

Authors Note: Thank you so much for sending in the first request for this blog! Fair warning I'm doing all my writing on my phone at the moment and I couldn't really get the ending to flow how I wanted it to so it's not perfect, but I really hope everyone likes it!

[Image Description: A gif of Merlin (from the BBC Show Merlin played by Colin Morgan) looking over his shoulder. End description]

It was such a silly mistake.

You trusted someone too soon, tried to help them.

Next thing you knew you were being accused of witchcraft. It was true but considering your accuser had no real evidence you thought perhaps you could argue your way out of it. You called them crazy, demanded proof, spouted off any alternative explanation for what had happened to no avail. Uther didn't give a damn about proof, the moment the word magic was held against you it was up to you to prove you hadn't used it.

Even if you hadn't, how do you prove a thing like that?

Pleading your case was useless, and the one person who could help you had left with Arthur and the knights before any of this had begun. Even if they somehow showed up before the execution, you wouldn't want Merlin's help.

He couldn't be caught helping you, not with his destiny. You weren't worth the risk, though he certainly would've argued otherwise if he'd had the chance.

No, you only had one choice left in your small cell. You would have to find an opportunity to use something that you saved for a situation such as this. When an old friend came to visit, to say goodbye, that was your opportunity.

You asked them to come back with the blue vial tucked in the back of your armoire. "It's a poison," You had told them. "I don't want to give Uther the satisfaction."

Tearfully, they obliged. In the middle of the night you chugged it down, and not one hour later your 'body' was wrapped in a sheet and wheeled out of the dungeons 'To be buried in the morning.' But the enchantment on the potion wore off before then, and you woke up alone and free.

You crept out of Camelot at the break of dawn with nothing but the clothes on your back, making it to the treeline before your will broke down and you turned back to look at the old castle peeking out over the tall walls.

Your home was behind those walls, your friends lived there, and the man you had surely fallen for. Tears stung your eyes as you thought about him, the fact you never got to say goodbye, how long it would be until you would see him again.

You could risk waiting for him to return, but if someone outside of Arthur's party were to catch you...you would be forced to do something you'd regret. You'd have to cross the line of no return and goodbye at that point would surely be permanent.

'Someday,' You thought, 'Until then, he'll understand, he might even come find me.'

Little did you know the guard who discovered the empty cloth had no intention of telling the king that the body of a prisoner had gone missing on his watch. No, he had a family to tend to, he wasn't losing his position because of some witch. It didn't even cross his mind that you might not be dead.

There was an empty grave in the pauper's field the next morning, and any questions on your whereabouts were contained in the mind of one underpaid guardsman for two years.

Meanwhile, Merlin had been devastated when he heard the news, even confused. Gaius told him the whole story, what he knew of it anyway, but he could never wrap his mind around it. It didn't make sense. He had spoken to you only a few days before, you smiled and hugged him and told him to come home safe. And just like that you were gone? The irrational fear of someone you tried to help, and the blind tyranny of Uther, that's all it took and now nobody would ever see that smile again. No, it didn't make any sense at all.

He eventually did what he had to do, put on a brave face and got back to work. And yes, a while after that night things got somewhat close to normal again. But there were always moments where he'd think to himself that he'd have to tell you about his day or a joke he heard, and then he'd remember. In other moments, he'd see Uther laughing at dinner or be forced to hear one of his speeches and his jaw would clench just a little tighter than it had before. And when he found himself awake in the middle of the night, when the world was dead silent and the only light in his room came from the moon, it was because he had found himself caught up in the memories you had together.

You had those nights too.

You had been dead on your feet by the time you stumbled into the small, reclusive village you'd learn to call your home. You'd been told that nobody really ever passed through on purpose, and they liked it that way. You told them that you could use a life like that, and then asked if they had need a physician. They did.

Sure, a reclusive person probably would've loved the little life you built for yourself. You had a small but cozy spot to live on the edge of the village, not long after you showed up you began to tend to minor wounds and ailments, making a few friends along the way. Occasionally two farmers would ride into the city to barter off crops for supplies and other things, eventually they began to bring you back a book or a small trinket each time to thank you for your work. It was nice.

But still loneliness tugged at your heart, more than you imagined it would when you took that last look at your home. On the most random days, doing the most random things, you'd find yourself thinking about everyone again and crying for up to an hour before you could pull yourself together again. Those moments became more rare over time, but they never hurt any less. You were never quite back to normal.

Finally, you were wrapping a farmers broken finger, speaking about the state of the kingdom and how you were surprised Uther had felt the need to improve anything it all, when you heard the news.

"Oh, no. The king died months ago, Arthur's in charge now."

You knew you must've gone pale, as the next thing the man said to you was a question of your health. You were quick to respond with a growing smile, "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

He shrugged at you, "I'm not all that concerned with politics. These men, they're all the same to us out here, you know?"

But you knew the difference.

Your life depended on it.

You finished his treatment and sent him away without much else to say on the matter. You had to pack, after all. Later on that day you pleaded with a neighbor to let you borrow her horse, and your friends gathered around as they overheard you say you needed to go to the capitol. You honestly felt a bit bad leaving in such a rush, but after you relayed a safe version of your story, why you came here and why you had to leave, they all seemed to understand.

With many promises from you that they could send for you if they ever needed to, and many words of encouragement from them, you took off. Even when you stopped in the night to allow the horse some rest, you never got any yourself, too excited and nervous and overwhelmed all at once. You spent hours contemplating what to say to everyone, but nothing seemed right.

Another days journey, and you were home.

The response you got to your return wasn't what you expected. Your first stop was to check on the friend who got the potion to you in the first place, and strangely they let out a short shriek before slamming the door in your face. You knocked again, speaking through the door. "It's me...I'm back?"

"Go away!"

You furrowed your brow at them, hurt and confused. But ultimately you walked away, thinking a reaction like that might be deserved considering what you must've put them through that night. As you continued down the street there were a few people who recognized you and proceeded to clear out of your way with gasps and whispers, pulling along anyone they were walking with.

Last time you were here you had been accused of witchcraft, and two decades of fear don't just disappear with a new king, so you simply accepted that as the reasoning and started to make your way up through the lower towns.

On the other end of the city, Merlin had just reached the end of an extremely long day. It had dragged on so long that it felt as though the walk from the armoury to his room took another hour. He didn't even bother to get something to eat, he just wanted to sleep. So naturally when he had just layed down in bed when someone decided to knock on the front door, he didn't know any better than to be annoyed.

At first he thought Gaius would take care of it, then he remembered that he wasn't home.

Maybe they'll just go away.

Whoever it was knocked again and he pulled the pillow over his head.

Please go away.

The front door creaked open and he heard a familiar voice call out. "Hello...Gaius? Merlin?"

He sat up, a heavy feeling settling into his gut as he realized where he had heard that voice before.

But...it couldn't be. Could it?

He shook his head, leaving his bedroom to shoo out the person who couldn't have been you.

But there you were, flipping through an old book that had been sitting on the table since the day before. When you noticed he was standing there you looked up with a sad smile, saying the only thing that you could think of; "Hi..."

"Hi?"

"I uh- I know it's been a long time," You started, crossing your arms over your chest in an awkward stance. "I wish I didn't have to leave like I did but..."

"Leave??" He repeated what you said once more. Finally you registered how strangely he was looking at you, not angry or upset but bewildered, and maybe even scared. What he said next confused you even more. "How are you alive?"

"I thought you might've had more faith in me than that." You joked, but he wasn't amused. "Am I missing something?"

He was hesitant to approach you, unsure of how he was supposed to say it but he tried. "They told me you were gone, that you'd poisoned yourself. I mean...Gaius saw you."

"It was meant to look like that, but it was a trick." You said. "I left when I awoke, they didn't tell people I escaped?"

He shook his head no, tears starting to stream down his face. "...I can't believe this."

As the reality of the situation hit you, you couldn't help but cry as well. All you were guilty about, what you thought you put your loved ones through, it had actually been so much worse. "I am so sorry, if I had any idea I would've- well I don't know what I would've done. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just, I'm so happy that you're here, and you're okay." Striding over with a grin, he pulled you into his arms. "I've missed you."

"And I, you. More than I could ever put into words." With a laugh you continued. "Things got so boring without you."

"I'm sure they did, you won't believe some of things I have to tell you."

And that was all it took, you both sat down at a table as you filled each other in on everything that had happened in the last two years. It took hours, there were multiple times you had to stop and collect yourselves as certain stories had you laughing until your stomachs ached. Gaius came home and after another tearful welcome back he made you all something to eat and had plenty of his own twists on things that had happened.

As if no time had passed at all, the world felt normal again. You were back where you belonged.

You were home.

#Merlin x reader #bbc merlin x reader #bbc merlin fanfiction

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baby-blossoms · 4 years ago

Text

Potent

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 3,795

Summary/Request: “I don't know if you write for Harry Potter, but can you do a fic about Draco Malfoy if you do? It doesn't have to be anything specific, I just love your writing!” - Reader smells Draco in the Amortentia potion without realizing it’s him.

Warnings: Light cursing

You were exhausted from staying up all night writing an essay for charms class over simple things your father had taught you ages before you had started your sixth year at Hogwarts. You couldn’t say that you were extremely talented in every subject you took at the great school of witchcraft and wizardry, but charms came naturally to you. Your mother was an outstanding Auror, and your father also worked for the Ministry of Magic. You were never fully informed on what exactly he did. His job was clearly out of the ordinary, as he never spoke about it. He was always out at odd hours for work, but you never questioned it. You were just happy that they both came home safe every night.

You couldn’t say that your family was thrilled when they found out you were a Slytherin. The family came from a long line of Ravenclaws on your father’s side and Gryffindors on your mother’s side. They were baffled as to how you found yourself placed among Slytherins. Nevertheless, they were proud of you and how hard you were working toward being one of the top students of your class,

“Another reason I believe you should have been placed in Ravenclaw! Perhaps you could consult with the headmaster about the matter, Y/N?”

Your mother had said once. You rolled your eyes at her all those years ago and simply replied,

“The sorting hat never makes mistakes, mama. You know that. Being a Slytherin may not have been what you wanted or expected, but it is my destiny.”

You withdrew yourself from the memory as you tuned back into your friends chattering away about the latest gossip among the school. Some people you had never heard of were getting back together for the third time this year. It was impressive how often a couple could split and get back together in the span of a few months.

“Y/n, do you fancy anyone?”

Your friend Danny asked, knocking his shoulder together with yours and raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You rolled your eyes and slapped him on the arm lightly with a book you were carrying.

“You know I don’t have time for a relationship, Danny.”

Danny gave a long drawn out sigh and motioned to a girl in blue and bronze robes passing by.

“Honestly, you should’ve been holed up with those stuffy Ravenclaws.”

You shot him an annoyed glance and replied.

“Ravenclaws are not stuffy, Daniel. They value intelligence, I can’t imagine why you weren’t placed there.”

Danny snorted out a laugh,

“There it is! Every time I annoy you, I’m reminded why you were put in Slytherin. It’s the wicked sarcasm alone, I think.”

Another one of your friends chimed in,

“Have you seen her magic in action, Danny? It's the power, not the sarcasm. Salazar Slytherin valued powerful, cunning students with pure blood, and the only family with more pure blood than hers is the Malfoys.”

You didn’t comment, a part of you flattered by your friend's compliment toward your powerful magic. However, the prejudice toward purebloods among the Slytherin house still put you off a bit. Your mind wandered to the Malfoy family after a moment. They truly were a powerful and well-known family, but you knew from your mother’s mixture of anger and disgust when talking about Lucious Malfoy, they were not well known for good reasons. A chill ran up your spine when you thought back to the first and only time you had seen Lucious Malfoy in person.

He towered over you, his eyes practically piercing into your soul when you accidentally bumped into him on Diagon Alley while buying supplies for your first year. Your mother had pulled you away from him as if he was infected with a highly contagious disease, and practically shoved you behind her. She had spoken to him for a moment, her voice friendly to anyone else’s ears, but you knew your mother. You heard how uncomfortable she truly was.

That was the extent of your interactions with the Malfoy family. Your mother had drilled it into your head that you were not to step foot near Draco Malfoy, let alone speak to him. She was terrified of what might come if you befriended, or worse, annoyed the young Malfoy. You had agreed, as if Draco would ever speak to you in the first place. He was far too concerned with himself and harassing Harry Potter for that.

The only thing that made avoiding Draco difficult at this point was not only that you were in Slytherin with him, but you also had almost the same schedule. Speaking of which, you realized you had passed your potions class, and quickly shouted a farewell to your friends as you doubled back and made your way into the room.

You gathered with the rest of the Slytherins. The class stood in front of a table that had four cauldrons upon it. One of the two you could smell from where you stood, and you found it almost intoxicating. Your eyes glazed over as you stared intently at the cauldron, and you were only brought out of your hazy thoughts of how exquisite it smelled when two boys entered the room. Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasly. You scoffed quietly, annoyed that he could just waltz into class late and he seldom got any sort of repercussion for it. The one time you were late to Transfiguration Professor McGonagall made you write an essay on why punctuation is important for a witch or wizard to practice.

You glared at the two fighting over the last clean looking copy of the textbook and glanced to your right, feeling someone’s eyes on you. Your glare dropped immediately and was replaced by surprise and confusion at finding Draco Malfoy eyeing you with a small smirk. You felt a small blush spread across your cheeks. You had never fully looked at Draco before. His eyes were stone grey with flecks of blue toward his pupil, and his features were delicate yet sharp at the same time. But damn you had to admit he looked good in green. You found that you had been staring at him far too long, and abruptly looked away, turning back to Hermoine Granger. She stood in front of the cauldron you had been staring at earlier.

“It’s rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example, I smell freshly mowed grass and parchment, and spearmint toothpaste.”

She said before you were distracted once more. You felt as though he was watching you still. You couldn’t help but give in to your curiosity and steal another glance at Draco. His gaze had not shifted from you, and you felt another wave of heat across your cheeks. You weren’t used to catching the interest of any boy around Hogwarts, let alone the one boy you weren’t supposed to interact with whatsoever.

“Miss Y/l/n?”

You looked back to Professor Slughorn, he looked to you expectantly with an amused smile. Clearly you hadn’t been paying attention, and you felt your cheeks burn even hotter and you replied without hesitation.

“I’m sorry Professor, I was distracted. Could you repeat the question for me?”

Slughorn chuckled and stated,

“I was asking if you would like a turn in smelling the Amortentia potion? I saw that you were particularly transfixed with it earlier.”

You knew that if your cheeks could blush harder, they would. Making your way toward the potion, you tried your best to focus on speaking clearly as the scent practically grabbed a hold of you and begged you to taste the potion.

“I smell-” you paused for a moment, trying to figure out what had intoxicated your senses, “pomade, mint, apples, and...”

You trailed off, there was one more scent, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was.

“Yes, pomade, mint, and apples.”

You finished awkwardly. Slughorn smiled knowingly toward you, and gestured for you to return to where you had been standing earlier. You stalked back to your spot, refusing to let your embarrassment show in front of the class.

Professor Slughorn continued on about Amortentia for a moment, then introduced how the student with the best brewed potion that day would receive a vial of liquid luck. You rolled your eyes, knowing for a fact that you would not be receiving the vial. Potions weren't necessarily difficult for you, but they were by far not your strongest point.

You ended up being right, of course. Though, to your surprise and slight annoyance, it was Harry Potter who received the Liquid Luck. You couldn’t deny that you were jealous, yet couldn't help a heavy eye-roll when he tried to take it from Slughorn’s grasp before he was done speaking. You reluctantly clapped along with the rest of the students after Harry was instructed to use his potion well, but your facial expression showed exactly how you felt. You appreciated all that Harry had done, and what he had been through, but what would he of all people need liquid luck for? He always seemed to manage fairly well without it.

You gathered your books and made your way out of the potions classroom, toward charms class. Breath caught in your throat as you were abruptly tugged into an empty corridor. Turning, and drawing your wand in defense, you were more than surprised to lock eyes with Draco Malfoy once more. You weren’t sure what to say in such an instance, as you never dreamed you’d be alone with him, let alone by Draco’s choice.

“Well, hello then.”

You said. Draco eyed you carefully, his expression neutral as he introduced himself.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.”

You nodded in response, surprised once more by the fact he assumed anyone in the school didn’t know his name by now.

“Yes, and I’m-”

Draco cut you off,

“Y/n Y/l/n. I know.”

You nodded once more, not entirely sure where to go from there. He was the one pulling you into empty corridors after all.

“Did you need something, Draco?”

Draco didn’t respond for a moment. He just stood silently, staring at you. His skin was practically flawless. It reminded you of a porcelain doll.

“I realized we’ve never spoken before. We’ve been in the same house for six years, and we’ve yet to have a conversation.”

You couldn’t help but feel confused once more.

“Well, not to be rude, but it doesn’t seem that you talk to many people in general, aside from your… usual group.”

Draco quickly replied.

“You don’t either.”

You smiled,

“What, have you been watching me, Draco?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It's a good habit to observe those around you, Y/n.”

You laughed lightly.

“Well, then I’ll keep that excuse in mind next time I feel like staring at someone in class for a prolonged period of time.” you paused, noting how Draco’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Speaking of which, I have a class to get you.”

You said, taking your leave from the corridor. Glancing back as you rounded the corner, you found that Draco was indeed still ‘observing’ you. Your thoughts raced as you jogged to charms class. You just couldn’t wrap your head around why Draco chose such an odd way to start conversation with you for the first time. Then your thoughts wandered to your mother, and guilt stabbed at your gut. To be fair, Draco had talked to you first, and realistically he had pulled you into a corridor without your prior knowledge. So, you hadn’t necessarily gone against her wishes. You had to admit you didn’t mind the short conversation with him, though. Draco seemed interesting.

-----

The next few days were seemingly normal, aside from noticing Draco observing you more and more often. He was bold as well, and didn’t bother to look away most of the times you caught him. He was starting to become a true distraction to you. Of course, you couldn’t deny how attractive you found him.

You were making your way to the great hall for dinner, listening to Danny chatter away about the latest quidditch games and news regarding the Ministry. Almost all of your friends were seated by the time you found your way to the Slytherin table. Confusion and annoyance practically slapped you in the face when you found the spot you always sat in was occupied by a first year.

“Not to be rude, but I’ve sat in this spot since my first year. So, if you wouldn’t mind moving, I would really appreciate it.”

The first year turned to you slowly, and you wholeheartedly expected a sarcastic remark, but instead he said meekly,

“I have to sit here.”

You raised an eyebrow,

“Have to?”

You questioned. The boy nodded fervently, his eyes darting behind you. From the look in his eyes, you didn’t have to turn around to know who stood there.

“Why don’t you sit with me, Y/n? It seems every other spot is taken.”

Your suspicions were confirmed at the sound of Draco Malfoy’s voice. Turning, you stared at him in disbelief.

“Did you harass this poor kid into sitting in my spot, Malfoy?”

Draco glanced to the boy, then back to you, a smirk creeping across his lips.

“What makes you think I would do such a thing?”

He said, eyeing you in amusement. You smirked back to him playfully.

“I suppose I’m not that hungry either way. I think I’ll just make my way back to the common room to study.”

Draco’s grin vanished, his eyes narrowing as you winked at him and stalked away.

Minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the Slytherin common room, staring out the window into the lake. You watched calmly as creatures of all kinds swam past, finding their fluid movements in the water soothing. The Slytherin common room was freezing as per usual, but you neglected to grab a sweater, instead opting to continue to watch the wildlife through the window. Your attention was drawn away from the lake when you heard another person entering the common room.

“You’re not studying at all.”

You turned to Draco as he made his way next to you, then went back to watching the lake. You shrugged, smiling lightly.

“Are you cold?”

He asked, in almost a whisper. You looked back at him slowly, nodding your head in affirmation.

“It’s always cold in here.”

You sighed, once again turning to the lake. Draco didn’t respond, but moments later, a sweater was set down in your lap.

“That should help.”

He said. You looked at him in shock. You would’ve never expected Draco to be the type to lend out his sweater.

As you put the sweater on warmth engulfed you, but that wasn’t your main concern. What threw you for a loop was how the sweater smelled. It smelled of mint, pomade, apples and cologne. Your mind started racing. There was no way you had been smelling Draco’s cologne in the Amortentia potion.

“Sorry, I suppose I’m just not feeling well.”

You whispered. Promptly standing, you walked quickly to your dormitory and sat on your bed. You spent hours convincing yourself that somehow you were wrong about what you had smelled in the Amortentia potion. However, the sweater that engulfed you in warmth and that same scent was telling you otherwise.

---

Just to your luck, in potions the next day, you had the opportunity to test your theory. Slughorn had brought the Amortentia potion back out for whatever reason. You were too anxious to pay attention to his explanation. He gave each student the opportunity to smell the potion if they’d like to test what scents attracted them. When it came to you, the scent had changed, however, not in a way you expected. The smell of Draco’s cologne was overpowering.

You couldn’t tell whether you were delighted or terrified. Just imagining your mother's face if she found out Draco Malfoy was the first boy you ever had a crush on was enough to make you feel overwhelming guilt. However, when you saw Draco making his way toward the potion to smell it, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping he would smell you too.

Shaking your head in annoyance at yourself, you looked down to the recipe for the potion you were supposed to be making that day. It seemed easy enough, but knowing yourself, you expected it to blow up in your face at any minute throughout the process. You tensed when you saw Draco walk past in your peripheral vision. Hope was still rearing its little head at the thought of what he might’ve smelled in the Amortentia potion, but you couldn’t let yourself be so distracted by him all the time. You would never get anything done.

Much to your surprise and elation, your potion came out perfectly. Slughorn praised you, as it truly was a rarity your potions came out decent, let alone perfectly. You glanced behind yourself, finding Draco staring at you with a look you had never seen him show before. Quickly turning around, your thoughts raced as to what he might’ve been thinking. You weren’t surprised to hear Slughorn praising a perfect potion from Draco moments later.

The minute class was let out, you practically sprinted out of potions. You had to find Danny and tell him everything. You raced to the Slytherin common room, searching for Danny anywhere within it. He clearly wasn’t in his usual spot, so you went to check his dormitory. When he didn’t answer the door, you sighed in annoyance and defeat. You couldn’t bother running around the entirety of Hogwarts looking for him, so you opted to wait for Dinner.

Making your way back to your own dormitory, you sighed once more, wondering how you should even address such a situation. You knew your mother would insist that you just stay a million miles away from the boy and let the feelings fade, but you knew deep down that you couldn’t force yourself to do so. Nevertheless, Draco was in all of your classes, and he was persistent. If he wanted to talk to you, or see you, there was no avoiding him.

----

You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, knowing it wouldn’t affect your scores too badly, and sat in your dormitory waiting for dinner to roll around. Draco’s sweater sat next to you on your bed, and you stared at it for what must’ve been hours. You never in a million years would have imagined that your thoughts and days would be so taken up by Draco Malfoy of all people. The single person your parents adamantly told you to stay away from. The pure irony of the situation would’ve made you laugh if you didn’t feel so guilty and confused.

When dinner finally came, you went to leave your dormitory, only to almost immediately slam the door again. Draco was leaning against the wall outside of your room, clearly waiting for you. Fuck. You were right, after all. If he wanted to see you or talk to you, he made sure there was absolutely no way to avoid him.

After a moment of you dumbly standing there, holding the handle, there was a firm knock at the door. You leaned your forehead against the hardwood, not knowing what would come from you opening the door. Your mind was practically tearing itself to shreds, battling whether you should ignore him and act like none of this happened, or tempt fate and open the door for the platinum haired boy.

“Y/n, you can’t just pretend you’re not in there!”

Draco called through the door. You cringed, still battling yourself on whether you should open the door or not.

“You’re not even supposed to be in the girls dormitories, Draco!”

You called back.

You heard a muffled laugh through the door.

“All the more reason for you to open the door before I get caught.”

You whispered a silent apology to your mother, and opened the door.

Draco’s grey eyes bore into yours, and he didn’t hesitate to walk into your room, closing the door swiftly behind him. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as he turned to you. With every step he took toward you, you took a step backward. Finally the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and gave out from under you. You sat, staring at Draco as he made his way closer. His signature smirk made your blush burn even brighter.

Your heart was racing faster than it ever had as he leaned over you, forcing you to lay back slightly.

“Tell me, Y/n. What was it that you smelled in the Amortentia potion?”

You knew you couldn't hide how flustered you were as Draco asked you the one question you had hoped to avoid. You looked anywhere but him, still conflicted with yourself.

You had to hold in a shaky breath when Draco grabbed your chin, purring,

“Look at me.”

You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Now tell me, what did you smell in the potion, Y/n?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you responded.

“You.”

Draco smiled fully for the first time as far as you had ever seen. Soon his lips were pressed firmly against yours. He tasted partially of how smelled, like peppermint and green apples. As he pulled away slightly, you let out a shaky sigh, and felt his breath fan across your face.

“Is it too bold of me to assume what you might’ve smelled in the potion, then?”

You asked in a whisper. Draco chuckled, shifting slightly to grab something behind you. His icy eyes analyzed you for a few more moments before he pulled you into a softer, shorter kiss. You leaned forward, bringing one hand to his hair, running your fingers through it. You had wanted to do that for days now. Draco’s lips quirked up, smiling against yours.

When he pulled away, the sight of him nearly made you choke. His hair was ruffled in a way you found so deliciously attractive, and his lips slightly swollen from the kisses you had shared.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Y/n. I just wanted my sweater back.”

He lied easily. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled softly, then continued.

“Your perfume is quite potent, though.”

He winked at you, making your heart flutter, then took his exit.

You didn’t care what your parents would think. There was no way you could stay away from Draco Malfoy.

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murdertrialimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Oh god, I gotta hurry uh...Red String AU for SDR2 characters of your choice where their soulmate is a Reserve Course Student?

Hey there! Of course! Hope you like the characters I chose (I picked like five, you’re bound to like at least one, right?), I just picked some of my favorites. Also I wasn’t sure if this is before they were accepted into Hope’s Peak as part of the reserve course or if they go to a different school so I switched it up a bit throughout as to not get too repetitive. Enjoy!

Ibuki Mioda

You knew you had a soulmate, the red string attached to your pinky made that clear.

You believed in fate, so you left it in the hands of destiny to bring you two together.

Ibuki, on the other hand, was hell-bent on finding you.

One particular Tuesday, you were in class when you noticed the string on your finger felt... looser?

This struck you as odd but you continued listening to the teacher until the end of the day.

You then stepped outside of your ordinary high school to see a not-so-ordinary girl in a Hope’s Peak Academy uniform, waving excitedly at you.

Oh my god. She was your soulmate??! But she was so... cool! And not ordinary!

She ran to you and started making loud, excited conversation that moved at a very fast pace, clearly not caring that you were just an ordinary high school student.

Kazuichi Soda

You moved through the halls on your first day at a new school, careful not to bump into anyone.

You were, after all, in the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy! You didn’t want to bump into any of the amazingly talented individuals in the prestigious school.

You were part of the reserve course. You admired Hope’s Peak and wanted to be talented like it’s diverse student body, but you just didn’t have an ultimate talent. You had hobbies and interests, sure, but you weren’t the very best at anything.

As you went about your first day, most people seemed very welcoming, no one really caring that you weren’t an ultimate like the rest of them.

The school day was finished and you were making your way outside when you noticed the string on your finger getting looser and looser.

You looked around and spotted a pink haired boy under a tree looking down at his pinky and then back up at you.

You made your way to him with a smile which he returned. You stopped in front of him and took in his features.

He smiled at you. “The name’s Kazuichi Soda. I’m the ultimate mechanic. Nice to meet ya!”

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham is... a bit of an oddball. In the best way! But he never really fit in and usually stuck out like a sore thumb.

This was to be expected, being the Supreme Overlord of Ice and all.

When he met you, he was ecstatic! He didn’t care that you weren’t like the rest of them. In fact, he kinda liked that you were different, and he thought it was poetic that being ordinary made you different.

Of course, he introduced himself in his own Gundham way (which you adored), but he couldn’t hide his blushing face, even if he buried it in his scarf.

He wouldn’t tell you this, but when he felt the tug on his pinky lessen, he felt his heart leap and his stomach do flips. He couldn’t wait to meet you!

You had been in class when you noticed the slack in the string, so when you were on break you rushed to find him before you had to be in class again.

Your heart was racing. You were nervous! You wanted to meet him, but how would he react knowing you were just a reserve course student?

Of course, he didn’t care at all and he quickly extinguished your worries.

Hajime Hinata

You stared up at the school in front of you, too nervous to go in, until you felt the familiar tug on your pinky go away.

You looked to your left and saw a boy your age with brown hair and a tie. He seemed nervous, too, and apparently he was too anxious to notice that his soulmate was standing right next to him.

You tapped his shoulder and introduced yourself, explaining that you were his soulmate.

Only then was he aware of the situation. He blushed and introduced himself.

“I-I’m Hajime Hinata. I don’t have an ultimate talent.” “Neither do I! I’m from the reserve course!”

Being a reserve course student himself, Hajime was elated when he found out you were the same as him.

Of course, he would have loved you no matter what, but he felt better knowing that you can relate to each other and he found comfort in your similarities.

Chiaki Nanami

You had always had hobbies and activities you enjoyed, but you didn’t have any sort of talent that you could say was your thing. You weren’t the best at anything, and you didn’t care about that.

You went to a normal high school with normal school days like this one had been. However, this day wouldn’t be normal for long.

After school on this particular day, you decided to head to the arcade. This wasn’t usual but it also wasn’t unusual, in that you were just a high school kid and you did fun things sometimes but you liked to switch it up.

When you got close enough to see the arcade, you felt something unusual. You looked down at the red string on your pinky and noticed that it was strangely... loose?

You knew what this meant, so you stared at your finger for a moment before coming to your senses and booking it to the arcade.

You reached the doors and pulled them open, eyes following the string to a girl with light pink hair playing a game to the right. As you made your way to her, you called out to her and a big “GAME OVER” flashed on the screen.

She turned to you with a sleepy smile, and you introduced yourself, explaining how you were coming to the arcade and you noticed the string was loose so you used it to find her. She smiled at you and introduced herself as Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer.

You explained that you didn’t have an ultimate talent but you were okay with that. She seemed to like that positive attitude and the conversation continued on.

And the rest is history!

I hope you enjoyed this, thank you for requesting! This was fun to write! I love AUs and soulmates!

Mod Kirigiri

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa headcanons #super danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa imagines #ibuki mioda #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi soda #ibuki mioda x reader #gundham tanaka x reader #gundham tanaka #hajime hinata #chiaki nanami #chiaki x reader

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raayllum · 3 months ago

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Callum is so right about Rayla never doing anything for herself. You could say freeing Runaan was for herself but she also treats it as her "sacred promise" and chose him for Ethari too (shows how great her heart is). You think sparing Callum will finally count as her doing something for herself? Choosing her future and her love for him over the "greater good". She couldn't get her og parents back‚ this girl keeps losing and suffering she seriously deserves more wins

God, I could write an entire meta about that line - maybe one day when I'm feeling self indulgent. In regards to your actual prompt, re: saving Callum will count as something for herself -- a big yes, absolutely, I think! Though I think freeing her parents is something she deeply wanted for herself, too ("I miss you so much" / "so I wanted to do something for yourself for you") even if it was something she was continually putting off till the Aaravos situation, as far as she knew, was resolved

Prior to S6 I went back and forth on whether the show would frame Rayla's end of the possession plot line / trying to get Callum back as either "It doesn't matter what happens to me (again) I just want to save him" (which is what leaving in TTM and other moments was about) OR whether it'd be framed as "I refuse to sacrifice him / something I want (again)" and therefore be character development. I leaned towards the latter for reasons outlined here since the two have the chance to be even more thematically codependent than they already are in terms of their senses of identity:

As long as Callum is Callum (not possessed, or she has reason to believe he’s still in there), Rayla likely won’t be able to bring herself to kill him. This is from an emotional / characterization standpoint, of course, but from a thematic standpoint, we can see where it stems from Callum and Rayla continually being each other’s main connection to their sense of identity. As long as Callum is Callum (“you’re the destiny is a book you write yourself guy”), he’s worth saving. As long as Callum is Callum, she can be Rayla (“Rayla’s brave. She saves people” / “Rayla. My name is Rayla, and I’m going home”). As long as she’s Rayla, he can be Callum. Because if Callum isn’t Callum, then he’s dead, and if he’s dead, she can kill him. And if Rayla kills him, if Callum is dead, then she won’t be Rayla anymore. Because to literally kill Callum would be to simultaneously symbolically/emotionally kill herself.

This goes both ways of course - Callum can't/won't sacrifice Rayla because to do so would be to sacrifice a fundamental part of himself (namely his deep and Pure devotion to others which means he'll never go entirely down the negative side of Viren's path, and keep to the positive - leaving Aaravos, breaking free, etc). This was subtext prior to S6, but now it's actual text (she's his light/truth/hope of salvation, etc) so it goes double going forward. This is true for Rayla too — Callum is her guiding light and her star, he's one of the people who's taught her the most about how to love and the person she wants to be.

With all that in mind, yeah, I do think that Rayla will choose to not sacrifice Callum for the right reasons. Part of this is scaffolded under witnessing Callum not sacrificing her No Matter What prior to her won choice, and realizing "what [she] most deeply desires" isn't just Callum's survival even, but specifically the life they can have together, which she needs to stick around for and thereby not sacrifice herself. Runaan is also explicitly remorseful over the actions he took towards her where he choose duty over love, so Rayla realizing she should choose love over duty ties into them growing together as well in a positive way. We also see her realize some of this I think in choosing to let Lain and Tiadrin stay together rather than separate them specifically because of the Moonphoenix bracelet Callum gave her as well.

"I risked losing the best thing I ever had" because of her own duty turned revenge vs "I refuse to lose either of us like this" and finally fully accepting an assassin was never who she was and never who she Should be, in sacrificing others' lives or her own included. Them both Choosing each other above everything else was exactly what I was hoping for as soon as the "I need you to kill me" plot line started / wrote in my first CHET fic pre-S4 years ago:

She has two options as she pulls away. She can make a grab for her swords and go out, swords blazing. Kill Viren or Aaravos if she can as the sky splits open, purple and thrumming with magic; die with a sword in her hand in all likelihood. The release spell has already started. Or she can help Callum up, and they can live to fight another day—together. Rayla grips the back of his jacket. Presses her forehead to his neck for a second, tears building her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. His arm tightens around her, like he’s braced for her to go. “Rayla—” “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, sobbing. This is all her fault, but she can’t do that to him. “We have to get out of here.” [...]

Callum is staring at her when she pulls back and she swallows hard. She doesn’t know what to say. It’s both a blessing and a curse when he speaks first. “You chose me,” he says, not quite softly; she can tell there’s a lump in his throat. An edge of anger that not doing so was even an option. “Yeah, well. It was about time,” she says quietly. “I—”

So uh, here's hoping!

#thanks for asking #mutual salvation theory #tategaminu #tdp rayla #s7 speculation #predictions #fic: just wait for me to come home #the moon arcanum connection in that fic being #the light & dark + love for rayla as constant truth + south star #we were all prophets lmao

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calliopesstories · 4 years ago

Text

The Heart Of A King - Preview

Relationship: Caspian X Susan, Caspian X Reader, Platonic!Susan and Platonic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut (I’ll try the best I can), historical inaccuracy, misogyny and belief of 16th century, mention of death and sex, arranged marriage, /!\ Not proof read and non-english speaker writter /!\

Summary: There are opportunities in life that you have to take but you were different tough. Since you were born you always had things given to you on a silver plate. Yet you decided to create your own opportunities the day you chose to follow your father in all of his travels. It was no surprise for your parent when you left them no choice but to take you with them to the court of Cair Paravel, heart of your homeland. Even in your wildest dream you would have never thought of what destiny had in store for you when you took that opportunity and stepped in the castle of King Caspian and Queen Susan.

Author’s Note: I told you the preview would come fast, here it is. After days, weeks of votes this is the story that had the most votes, the one you wished for. FYI Narnia (and the islands as well as the surrounding countries) is located in the Atlantic sea next to the strait of Gibraltar. It’s a mix between Southern Spain in terms of architecture and temperature, UK/France in terms of landscape and of course what you can see in the movies and be described in the books. I had no idea what to add, so I hope you will like this story as much as I liked writing it.

Preview:

You stood up and saw for the first time the king with your own eyes. You had heard stories about how handsome of a man he was and he truly was but more than that he had this glimmer in his eyes, something close to melancholia although well hidden behind a dazzling smile. You could lose yourself in his eyes. It was the voice of your mother that made you realised you were staring at the king for far too long. The queen had walk to your mother and the both of them exchanged some words before they turned to you. You bowed before the queen who wasn’t older than you.

“I heard so much about you,” said Susan taking your hands in hers. Her smile was infectious and bright, contrary to her husband she was glowing with joy. “I’m sure will become good friends you and I.”

“I hope so Your Majesty,” you really hoped to be in the queen’s good grace.

“Last time I saw you, you were unable to keep yourself still.”

“You remember Your Majesty?” asked your father. You had been told that the King and you had met when you were younger but you had no memories of such event. “Well, I must say Y/N has changed since.”

“I can only agree with you.”

You smiled at your father; you knew what he meant by this statement. You had become less impatient, more careful of your words and most importantly you were smart, street smart. You had helped him many times and he liked to think he was the reason why you were doing so good around people. But you were lacking the subtility to leave at court for a long time, which was a good thing when you were traveling around the globe with your father, staying at court for short periods but now you were to live at Cair Paravel for as long as the king would want you around, and unbeknown to you the king was thinking about the length of your stay.

Taglist:

@learisa

#narnia imagine #the chronicles of narnia imagine #caspian x reader #caspian imagine #king caspian x reader #caspian x y/n #susan x caspian #suspian #pevensie siblings

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camelotsheart · 4 years ago

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Alright. I’m watching 1x11 and trying a new way of liveblogging. Which is just me writing random paragraphs. Enjoy.

A creature of magic mourning the loss of a creature of magic 😭

“Arthur is a hunter. It's in his blood. Whereas you are something entirely different.“ reminds me of “He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.“ “You are wrong.” Especially with the way that Arthur then proves what is in his heart by the end of the episode, and how his ‘heart’ is shown to constantly guide him towards the ‘correct’ choice in s5 (e.g. “My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred.“)

“You've got a face like a wounded bear ever since we got back from that hunting trip." Arthur means bear. I have no idea what to do with this information.

The unicorn as a metaphor for those sorcerers who “do no harm” and thus Camelot serves no purpose in killing them. Especially since people like the Disir and Alator describe the purge as a “hunt”.

The drought serving as a parallel to the events that happened before the purge to Uther, in that Arthur sees all the harm that “magic” is doing to the land and his people, just like Uther witnesses Ygraine’s death. Arthur initially refuses to accept that what happens is caused by him, just like Uther does. But unlike Uther, Arthur is able to acknowledge his mistakes given time (it’s interesting how in the book adaptation of 1x02 merlin makes this comparison too)

“If it is magic, it's more powerful magic than I possess.“ So unicorn magic is more powerful than Merlin’s magic. Would dragon magic be more powerful too? Is that why Merlin couldn’t heal Arthur from the poison of Mordred’s sword tha was forged in a dragon’s breath?

Merlin not understanding hand signals is my life 😂💖

Ok I can literally draw so many parallels between Anhora and Arthur’s first conversation, and Nimueh and Uther’s conversation in 1x09. Especially from how both Arthur and Uther seem completely unable to understand how the ‘curse’ that happened to Ygraine and Camelot was technically their fault.

“And could you bear for your children to see you be executed?“ The way in which Arthur says this breaks my heart because he does understand the feeling of blaming himself for the loss of a parent, just like those hypothetical children would. This is highlighted more by the fact that Evan later plays on Arthur’s insecurities about being his father’s son.

“If you're tested again, you have a chance to end your people's suffering. I know you want that more than anything." Reminds me of what Bradley says about Arthur putting Camelot above everything, even his personal relationships. Compare this to Lancelot and Merlin, who’s “something that is more important than anything” is a person (or people, in the case of Lancelot).

I LOVE S1 MORGANA. S1 AND 2 MORGWEN WOULD HAVE MADE A PERFECT QUEEN DUO FIGHT ME.

Merlin’s face when Arthur says he’s going to the forest to seek Anhorra out 🥺 Also the way he looks back like he wants to see the exact moment Arthur figures out that he’s eating rat meat 🤣 Merlin’s sarcastic little nod. Arthur’s shit-eating grin. This is what I mean by sibling dynamics.

AND THEN THEY TURN ON MORGANA ASDJSAJASLDKKLDJSA. MERLIN. ARTHUR. NO 🤣🤣🤣

“The King must wonder if you are even his son.“ I absolutely do not like how Anhora chose to do the test with Evan here. I hate it. But it does prepare Arthur for a lot of things. It prepares him to do things his father normally would not do. It prepares him to ignore when people compare him to his father (not that it worked with Agravaine, but Arthur does eventually come around most of the time with Merlin’s help). I find it like a mini 5x03 in a way. Also the fact that Arthur doesn’t even try to defend himself by saying that the looter would have been executed by the law of the land anyway; because deep down he knows that reasoning is wrong. What needs to be changed currently is Arthur’s arrogance in regards to his honour, not his internal morals. He has already proven his internal morals with saving Mordred, laying down his life in 1x09, as well as rescuing Ealdor and his reaction to finding out Will was a sorcerer in 1x10. Right now, Arthur needs to be able to accept that he is wrong.

“Besides I would rather starve than beg my enemies for help! What of our kingdom's reputation? Have you no pride?” “I cannot think of my pride when our people go hungry. They're all I can think of.” I’m screaming over the fact that what ends up beating sense into Arthur is his love for his people. I want to cry. He loves his people so much that his battle cry is “for the love of Camelot” 😭❤️

“Very well. But if you'd caught the sorcerer, I would not have to. That's your responsibility! One day you will understand what it takes to be King!” One day, Uther, you’ll learn to blame yourself for other people’s suffering.

“My people are starving. Camelot is on the verge of collapse. And it is all my doing.“ IT DIDN’T EVEN TAKE ARTHUR A DAY TO LEARN THIS I WANT TO CRY 😭 FUCK YOU UTHER YOU DON’T DESERVE ARTHUR AT ALL. (also the fact that Arthur fiddles with Ygraine’s ring as he says this 😭❤️)

“I trust Arthur with my life” the fact that arthur proves that trust right both in this episode by drinking the goblet and in the previous episode by admitting that he “of course” would not kill Will despite thinking he was a sorcerer.

Why the hell does Anhora use a sword to cast the vine spell.

“I thought I told you to stay at home.” Every time Arthur calls Camelot ‘home’ for Merlin I 🥺

Are those carvings... horseshoes...? Making the shape of a heart....? I--

(Sorry guys. By this point it’s 200% certain that my shipper brain is going to take over. Please expect a lot of screaming)

“What kind of ridiculous test is that? What does that prove?” “What it proves is for you to decide.” Which means that by the end, Arthur realizes what this test proves. And he proves what is truly in his heart by sacrificing his life for merlin. Remember “To sacrifice his life to save Gwen’s... I can’t imagine any man loving me so much.” “I certainly can’t imagine that either” “That’s because you’re not like Merlin. He’s a lover” “Yeah? Maybe that’s because I haven’t found the right person to love”. Remember how in the book adaptation this episode, it says that Arthur proves that there is love in his heart by giving his life for Merlin? Remember “there was magic at the heart of Camelot”? Remember how in the book version Arthur doesn’t deny having love in his heart when Anhora says so when the Unicorn lives again, and instead turns his head to smile at Merlin--

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.” @thebookluvrr1816 More 1x11-finale parallels to scream about 😭 The book version describes Merlin’s surprise at this statement, and how he thought it was “ironic and unfair” that they understood each other "at the very moment that death was about to tear them apart.”

“No, I will drink it!” “As if I’d let you.” Someone stop these dollopheads from having a domestic about who will die for the other i beg

“You know me, Merlin. I never listen to you.” reminds me of “I’m the king Merlin, you can’t tell me what to do.” “I always have. I’m not going to change now.” Also, in the books Arthur actually says “farewell, Merlin” after this. Book Arthur is way more suave just saying.

HOW ARTHUR LOOKS INTO MERLIN’S EYES IN HIS FINAL MOMENTS UNTIL HE ISN’T PHYSICALLY ABLE TO ANYMORE. SOMEONE HELP ME 😭

“This was Arthur's test, not yours.“ idk but this reminds me of the fisher king saying “For this is not Arthur's quest, it is yours.“

“You've killed him! I was meant to protect him!” This is going to sound harsh but by this point I think Merlin was still putting Arthur’s destiny above Arthur himself. In the books, there’s a distinct difference in how he feels about Arthur’s death in this scene compared to 1x13 (I’m amazed at how fast his feelings changes, actually). Here, I feel like he focuses more on his own failure to protect Arthur as part of his destiny, but in 1x13, he says that the idea of destiny not being fulfilled was nothing compared to the idea of not being by Arthur’s side. I wonder what happens between this and 1x13 for Merlin’s feelings to change so much.

THIS HAS PROBABLY BEEN STATED MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE BUT “HE HAS PROVEN WHAT IS TRULY IN HIS HEART“ AS THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON MERLIN. PRODUCERS YOU AIN’T SNEAKY.

Merlin’s smile as he looks down at Arthur sleeping 🥺

Arthur looking at Uther’s hand on his shoulder as if he’s trying to identify a foreign object 🙂 I can never say this enough but fuck you Uther.

“When he who kills a unicorn proves himself to be pure of heart, the unicorn will live again.” this is a stretch but it reminds me of “when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”

And that’s done! I have a small meta that ties the theme of Arthur and magic in this episode to the same themes in 1x10, but I might do it on a separate post since this one is already so long 😂

#bbc merlin #merlin meta #long post #1x11 #merthur? merthur #someone stop me from having 4 spirals every episode #this is why my chronological watches take me so long

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peeterparkr · 4 years ago

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The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter two: Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and Tom’s phone call. (Tim fic) BY @jambrosemc

There’s two sides to the story, the Tom fic written by me and the Tim fic by @jambrosemc for thw full experience (though you don’t need to) be sure to check out both!

STORY SUMMARY: Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other’s countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny.

chapter summary: new beginnings and first impressions pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad word count: 7.8k

story masterlist.

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You had gone through every single stage of a broken heart before, every single one of them. Haircuts. Wine. Clubbing. Reading. New life. Sobbing on the floor. Denial. Sort of acceptance. Working out. Eating your feelings. Coffee shops.Bars. Sleeping all day. Not sleeping at all. But this? Exchanging homes with a complete strange and travelling to the other side of the world? This was crazy. Completely crazy, and yet, you didn’t want to back off. This was the one thing that, if it didn’t work, you were screwed.

This was certainly not what you had imagined you’d end up doing for the Holidays, yet it was better than any other idea you’d come up with, because maybe, though you tried to avoid the thought of knowing damn well you’d feel lonelier in a foregin place, it’d help you get out of your suffering.

“So, okay, we went through dog food already right?” You asked, as you were on the back of the Uber on your way to the airport, your dog was still your number one concern.

You were on the phone with Sophia, the british woman who had her life sorted up. “We did, yep.” She paused, thoughtfully. “And I told you everything about the shop and it’s hours?”

You were getting cold feet, honestly. “Yes, right, but… I don’t have to worry about opening right?” You asked her. “That guy…. what was his name?” You couldn’t remember. “Ted? Opens up right?”

“Tom,” she cleared up. Of course, how could you forget his name, his name was the same as your damned dog. “And no you don’t. He’ll take care of it all, or should. She got off the phone for a bit but then turned back to you. “If you don’t mind, keep me updated about him though?”

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t trust a man either, “ you laughed. “I’ll check on him.” If you had the time, you were going to make yourself explore the city.

“Thanks.” She sounded relieved. “And I’ll of course update you on Tommy.”

You were so nervous of leaving your dog to a stranger, maybe you could tell your brother to go and check on him, too. Yeah, you needed to give Tim a call. “Please, I’ve never been away from my baby… “ You pleaded and then went through the basics on your head. “Uh, so the keys are under the porch thing I told you.”

“Right, and I put mine on that book,” she recalled.

“Right, right…. “ And then suddenly you were arriving at the airport. It had turned real. “Okay so we are doing this.”

“Apparently so… This is a good idea, right?” Sophia asked you.

In all honesty, it wasn’t. This was one of the-if not the craziest idea you’ve ever had, but at the same time it was thrilling. Exciting and inviting and it gave you the opportunity for a story, or time to write one, if you could.

“Having second thoughts now?” You asked, amused. “When we’re both on our way to the airport?”

That was a lie, you were already arriving.

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m just a bit nervous is all,” Sophia admitted.

You chuckled, nervously. “I’m kidding, I’m terrified, too.”

Because who wouldn’t be? This was the one thing that was incredibly terrifying.

“Well, I’m nearly there. I guess there is no going back at this point,” she said.

Because there wasn’t. You were having second thoughts, honestly. Wanting to give up and go back to your boring life. But then again, this was your chance to escape your boring life and this was your chance to actually make something interesting for once in your life.

You finally looked up, the driver was waiting for you as you got out of the car.

“I’m… actually here, so I’ll…” You paused, you couldn’t breathe, your nerves were tickling as you picked your bags and then faced the small airport standing in front of you. “I was gonna say see you on the other side but that’s stupid so… I guess this is a sort of goodbye?” You gulped.

This was it.

“Guess so… I’ll talk to you later?” She suggested.

You wondered if she was losing her shit as much as you were, honestly you wanted to jump and scream. You were excited, but excitement can often be confused with being scared, and you weren’t sure how thin this line was.

You took a deep breath. “Right, and please send me a picture of Danny so I can personally slap him,” you were only half-joking.

“Oh of course, and you’ll have to send one of Chad so I can slap him as well,” she answered with a sort of relief.

“Well, this is…” You were shaking, you closed your eyes. “I…”You paused again. Good luck, here’s to a well deserved break.”

“Good luck to you too.” Sophia on the other side sounded just as scared as you were. “I hope you’re able to clear your mind.”

You hoped so, too. You hope your mind could finally get out of the trance that having Chad was.

“You too, well here goes,” you said before heading to the airport.

“Goodbye then.”

“...Bye.”

You hung up, and suddenly the small airport had never looked any bigger. You were so close to changing your life. Big opportunities, big, big chances. You couldn’t possibly dare. But you were there, at the airport, so hugely standing in front of you. You felt very small, that was nothing new. You always did feel small, The world was waiting for you.

But you were not ready for it. You were going to back away, you felt fear invading your stomach, you stepped back, but then you saw a couple, kissing in the distance, you felt sorry for yourself. You couldn’t keep longing for that if you never risked anything. You couldn’t continue saying you were tired of being a secondary character if you didn’t risk doing main character things. This was just halfway to it.

You finally stepped in and made your way across it.

Because this was the first time you ever did anything, this was the first time you were getting lost in a dream, and letting yourself slip into time and actually going through with things. The day had been sunny. This was supposed to be your day. You wondered if people even turned to see you, you were nothing important, not really standing out from the crowds. But they didn’t know you were having the biggest adventure of a lifetime. Silly to think.

As soon as you were sitting on the plane, you knew you couldn't back away now and this was it. This was it, a new beginning, tarnishing every single fear upon you, you tried to mingle your feelings and calm down your nerves. You knew it was the right choice, otherwise you’d end up curled up on your sofa, digging your nose into each and every one of the books you’ve read already and staring at the ones waiting to be read, but never did for a reason or another. You couldn’t have another Christmas like that, this was it, not another one with you trying to avoid the question of why you were lonely again on Christmas and giving an excuse for each year. Sure, you’d be lonely but at least you didn’t need to answer questions about it. Besides, who knows, this was your chance, and you were already in the place so you couldn’t do much. You had an open window for freedom, for lessons to be learned and—Probably not that much, honestly. It was just a trip, how much can a trip change your life?

A handsome man had walked in, and smiled at you. He was around your age, gentle smile and blue eyes. This was your first sign, because you did believe in them, mo matter how stupid you believed life found a way to tell us we were doing the right choices, only you’d always avoided them. Yes, it had been the right choice. Who knows? Maybe you’d end up finding love in a plane. Oh who were you kidding, you probably had no chance, and you were proven you wouldn’t right away as you saw the man’s beautiful girlfriend sitting right beside him.

You wouldn’t find a chance like that, you were not a main character. You’d always known you were a plot device. There were main characters, secondary characters and plot devices. You were the last one.

Your phone dinged. And the sound made you shiver. A friend of yours had once advised to give a specific notification sound for Chad, so therefore you’d avoid it. Needless to say, it had been counterproductive since you would dream with that sound and hope you’d end up hearing it every day.

But this was different. This wasn’t him answering to another one of your lame attempts to start up a conversation. Chad had been the one who reached out to you.

“Hey, y/n! Couldn’t see you after the party, are you up for tonight?”

You only stared at the text. This was the reason why you needed to get out. Him reaching out and your heart jumping a little. You needed some willpower. You couldn’t let yourself fall again for the lie his lips were, you couldn’t let yourself be tangled against the sheets with a man who didn’t love you as he should, who didn’t love you for that matter.

“I’m going on vacation. London. “ you answered.

He texted back, quickly. That was a first. “First vacation in three years is turning point.

It was, for sure. “Yeah.”

He didn’t answer.

“Congrats on your engagement.” Though you did not mean it.

“Thanks xx. So, when can we facetime?” He asked.

With all the pain in your heart, but with the same courage you’d taken to finally go away you said: “We both know I need to fall out of love with you. Would be great if you would let me try.”

You sent it and then turned your phone off.

You didn’t need any more Chad. This was it, the one time you needed to escape and this was your chance.

A chance to finally get away from him for real, a chance to forget it. And to not feel deplorable on Christmas. You needed to forget him, you couldn’t stay with someone who didn’t celebrate your love. You needed to be loved and though you knew you wouldn’t find love in London, maybe you could learn to love yourself. It was the main reason why you knew you loved Chad, because you didn’t stand up for your own.

You slept for most of the flight, then connected to the other one and then it was real. You had left the US, and off to the other side of the water. Maybe it hit you until that point, the last person you’d ever gone on vacation with had been Chad and this--- No, this was the reason why you were leaving, your mind had to stop going back and forth with him.

Before you knew it, you were in London, the dawn welcoming you in all your esplendor. And it felt… different, and it hit you. For the first time you’d gotten out of your little cage and this was big. This probably had been the best idea, though crazy, the best idea you’d ever had. You were out, you were in a city that was giving you endless possibilities to wander, and to explore and endless possibilities to find yourself.

Someone had once told you that to find yourself, you’d have to be lost first, you had never felt more lost in your life, so this was your chance, to get even more lost in a city, and this was your chance, to get out there.

It was raining as you’d arrived, and as you’d ran out of the airport, small droplets had fallen on you. You could go straight to the house, but something about trying new things had gotten on to you.

It felt like Christmas, in a way. Everyone walked with their coats and umbrellas and scarfs around their necks, people who were busy, people who weren’t. People walking into shops, and people walking to their jobs, and drunken people walking out of the pubs, welcoming the sun.

The city lights felt magical, and you had always loved the feeling of being away from the ocean on Christmas. But now, this was a city, full of possibilities. This was exciting.

You’d seen places you’d seen in movies before, there was a nearby park, you thought about going there later, and exploring a nearby market. You’d be walking all day. Kensington, this place was absolutely gorgeous. And just 6 minutes away from Notting Hill, you still had the thought of the fantasy in your mind. But then… suddenly you were there, standing in front of the bookstore that would be your home for two weeks. Sophia had warned you there was a way in from the shop, and another one from the other place, but the key would be in the bookshop, inside this specific book.

You had walked into the bookstore, a bell had rang as soon as you’d opened the door, you had looked up, it was decorated, elegantly, christmas lights hanging on the shelves, the place was small and comfortable, topped with books here and there, taken out of your dreams, it was small, but it gave a sort of feeling that it was eternal. Infinite place where you could read books over and over. You’d seen the guy-Tom, you assumed, look up and hint a smile as he was talking to an old lady about a book, he was carefully listening to her, so attentive.

“Oh, eh, uh, morning,” he managed to say. He had turned to give you a second glance, you locked eyes with him for a brief second, he had smiled again and then turned away.

“Morning,” you answered.

You’d barely looked at him, but you couldn’t help but notice he was attractive. Very attractive. Had you… blushed? You quickly shook the thought away, this was no time to crush on an english boy, besides this was the guy who probably was in love with Sophia, and you were the plot device, you knew that, you couldn’t even bother to look at him. No, you couldn’t.

Besides, were you that desperate? So incredibly drawn to something you knew would lead nowhere. And how quick were you to jump to conclusions from barely a glance. A smile, a very pretty smile, that crinkled his eyes. No, you couldn’t keep staring

He kept talking to the lady, you could barrel and overhear the conversation as you, still with your luggage, strolled through the places, touching the books, books you’ve read, books you hadn't.

“Yes, I want to give this to my granddaughter, I love this book, Momo,” the old woman explained.

“Incredible read,” the british man answered with a grin. “Michael Ende is-”

Michael, he said Michael, not ‘Michael’, he knew how to pronounce it. Like it was supposed to be pronounced. In german, not like you’d pronounce your friend’s Michael name. Mi- cha- el. Not sure why that had made him even more appealing—No, you couldn’t do this to yourself. This was old y/n kind of thinking, to get out of a broken heart. You always did this, try to fixate on someone else to get over Chad. It never worked. But you were in London, but—No. He was Sophia’s coworker, Sophia’s friend and he was most likely in love with her. Someone like him had to love someone like her.

However, it didn’t hurt if you looked again. Or—did it?

You decided you could look at the guy once again, his eyes brightened up as he watched the woman ramble. He was so delicate, yet bold. Handsome, very. Under his sweater he probably was hiding some well defined muscles, you could tell, not that it mattered, but it did grow something more appealing to him. He was very handsome. Not in a conventional way for your taste, so different from the guys back home. He carried a certain sensuality, but was also heavy on being adorable. A very dangerous combination. His lips were small, his jawline defined, but his sight… As if that pair of eyes could paralyze you, tender eyes with a hint of joy and innocence. He wasn’t innocent, though, he could look, but he wasn’t. He was tapping his fingers, anxiously and he took deep breaths as he listened and gave the lady wider smiles and melodious chuckles. He had blushed at the old lady’s remark that he was handsome, you agreed. His lips were dry, probably from the cold, and he licked them too much while he was speaking to the lovely lady in front of him. His eyes were surrounded by some-not so heavy dark circles, but you could tell he hadn’t probably slept. You wondered why.

You liked to observe people, you were a writer so you liked those little details that people didn’t stop to look at, like the way he would bite his inner cheeks while listening, or raise his eyebrows with surprise every now and then. You liked those details, thinking one day you’d have enough to build up a person, made completely out of details.

You looked away once again, fearing he’d notice your staring and strolled through the books, the arrangement was impeccable, of course Sophia would have the place perfectly ordered. But there were some books here and there that didn’t—make sense for your taste. Or didn’t make sense at all, like an autobiography in a section that was definitely for fairytales.

You heard the bell ring again, an old man. Early 80’s, you guessed, he used a clutch. He wore a vest, a cardigan on top, and a very nice green beret on top of his head, a grey scarf around his neck, he had a coat, still covered from the rain. He seemed adorable.

“Good morning, Thomas!” He greeted him.

Tom smiled. Felt weird knowing his name without having met him yet.“Henry, good morning, I’ll be there with you in a second, I’m here with lovely Doris,” he announced, still listening to the lady.

The old man, Henry gave him a smile and then looked at you. “Good morning, young lady, it’s pouring isn’t it?”

“Morning,” you answered, shyly. “Seems to be.”

“Ah, american, interesting,” he pointed out, his voice was cheerful, old but you could tell he was a lovely human being. “What brings you here to a lovely bookshop in London?”

You smiled. “An adventure,” you said without thinking about it. It sounded better in your head.

He smiled, “I love that answer,” he pointed out. “What kind of adventure?”

You looked around the shop, “Don’t know yet,” you admitted. “I’m trying to find a good story.”

He grinned, “Hm what kind of story?”

“Don’t know,” you admitted again. “I’ll keep looking through the books.”

“Oh,” he nodded slowly. “I thought you wanted a story for yourself.”

“Myself?” you chuckled. “No, I’m good at reading someone else’s. Not good enough to be one myself.”

He stared at you, kindly. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he declared, and then looked at the shelves. “What to read now.” It amazed you how big of a main character he was, too, you’d probably love to write about him. He turned to you. “You seem… Like a reader.”

“I am,” you said. Though, lately you’d been stuck reading the same ones, never wanting a new story.

“Do you have any suggestions?” He asked.

You grinned, “Well, I guess it depends,” you said. “What do you feel like reading?”

He shrugged and gave you a tender smile, his eyes were shining. “Romance, perhaps?”

“What kind of romance?” You asked, following the same path he had when asking you questions.

“Classic.”

You gave it a thought, he probably had read Shakespeare already, he seemed like a connoisseur. But, somehow, you looked him in the eye and knew your answer. “Love in the time of Cholera, have you read it?” you asked.

“Surprisingly, I have not,” the man seemed perplexed.

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez, it’s… about true love that endures and overcomes adversity for a lifetime, it is a tribute to love, adventure, time, old age and death, ” you said. “It’s an ode to true love.”

“Sounds lovely,” he said. “Well, can you help me find it, please? I’d ask young Thomas but he’s there talking to lovely Doris there.”

“Of course,” you grinned. You proceeded to walk through the store trying to find the book, hoping they would have it.

“What’s your name young lady?” Henry asked.

“Y/N y/l/n” you answered simply.

“Hm, a main character name,” he pointed out.

You shook your head. “You’re wrong about that,” your eyes kept looking through the shelves.

“I’m Henry, Henry Abbot,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet Miss y/l/n.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

You needed that book and... It was not in the poetry section, which had you perplexed, they had to have it. “Oh.”

“Is it not here?” Henry asked.

“It’s not,” you frowned. “It’s-”

“Hello, Henry, hi, hello, is there anything I can help you with?” Tom had asked as he had snuck behind, you accidentally stepped back and bumped into him, causing him to knock down two books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said. You were an idiot.

“No, don’t be, it’s alright, it’s my fault, I should’ve announced myself,” Tom answered with a smile, that you knew was probably a fake customer service smile, as he picked up the books.

You then saw the old woman, Doris walk out with not only the book you’d initially seen her with, but other four, Tom was good at selling, you saw Henry had his eyes on her but proceeded to turn back at you.

You were definitely not expecting Tom, right in front of you, you could smell his cologne, it smelled good. Why the hell had you noticed that? You shook your head, before he could notice any sign of your stupidity.

“Oh, er-”

He only raised his eyebrows with a smile.

It was no secret that you were stupid around men, especially around men who were attractive.

“The young lady, miss y/l/n here is helping me,” Henry intruded quickly. “She recommended a book.”

“Oh,” Tom grinned. “Thanks for helping me out with Henry, did you not have trouble giving him a recommendation?” He turned to you again. “He’s read everything,” he said with complicity.

You only smiled and shook your head.

“She didn’t,” Henry pointed out. “Gave me an option right away, perhaps she should have your job instead,” Henry joked.

Tom brought his hand to his chest, hurt. “Henry; now why would you say that to me? Thought we were friends.”

You chuckled and turned to Tom, “Love in The Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez,” you said. “That’s the book—I thought it would be here.”

Tom turned to you, his eyes were even prettier than you thought they were. No, you had to stop. You couldn’t be attracted to him.

“Oh,” Tom was surprised by your statement. “Yeah, yeah, he’s… mexican, right?”

“Colombian,” you corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, it should be--” Tom recalled and then walked to the other side, he searched through the titles and then finally found it in the language section. “There, this one?”

“This is not in the right section,” you said.

“Why not I put it there myself this morning—“Tom chuckled, handing over the book to Henry. “Another one, or shall I help you check out, Henry?”

Henry smirked. “No, I want to know why she believes is in the wrong section.”

“This is romance,” you cleared up, as if it was obvious already.

“Oh?” Tom raised his brows.

“It’s in the Spanish section,” you continued.

“He… speaks spanish,” Tom said.

You only stared at him, in shock. Any kind of sign of attractiveness had been completely erased.

“Besides,” Tom smirked. “You were looking for it at the poetry section, not romance novels,” he pointed out.

“I…” You blinked. You had said that particular book for another reason. It was the book where Sophia had told you she’d hidden the key. She told you she’d moved the book from the romance novels to the poetry section.

Tom reached the counter, holding the book himself. You tried to reach for him,

“Ah, er, can I see it for a second?”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, and grimaced. “Hm?”

“Yeah, let me see if it’s… The one I meant,” you lied.

He watched you skeptically. “Umm… why wouldn’t it be?”

Henry watched between you both, humored.

“I….please?” You begged.

“Oh, don’t be rude to the pretty lady,” Henry pushed. “Let her see the book.”

Tom opened his mouth but defeatedly handed you the book. You mouthed a quiet thanks and then skimmed through it, trying to find the keys. They were not there.

Weird. There was no key. You blinked with surprise and looked up at Tom, who seemed pleased.

“Is it?” Tom asked.

“Yeah—It is,” you handed it over. Tom had a mischievous look on his face, he was humored by this situation.

“She’s American, and looking for a story of adventure,” Henry said to Tom.

“We all are, aren’t we?” Tom mentioned.

Henry looked between the both of you. “Are you here for the holidays, ma’am?”

So formal. “I am.”

“Traveling with your significant other, I presume,” Henry said while Tom was checking the book out.

“I—Well,” suddenly you felt lonely. “That position hasn’t been filled at the moment.”

Henry smirked, and then looked at Tom quickly then back at you. “With family, then?”

“I—No, I came here alone,” you explained. “

“So, it’ll be £11.03, Henry,” Tom interrupted as he put the book in a bag.

Henry looked at Tom, “where’s lovely Sophia?”

“I’d like to know, too,” Tom answered. “It’s not like her not showing up. She hasn’t called me back.”

Henry nodded.

You were confused. Had Sophia not told Tom she’d left? It felt like it was your time to intrude, but before you could explain, Henry looked at you and said. “Go give this young lady a story, Thomas.”

The man left.

“I—“you coughed. “Sorry, uh—“

Tom had a wide smile. “So… what can I actually help you with? Miss y/l/n, Any book in—“

“I well, I—“ you couldn’t speak.

Tom chuckled. “Yeah? Or are you going to complain about another book arrangement.”

“I wasn’t complaining, I'm just… very observant, alright?”

He grinned. “Well, did you observe anything misplaced?”

“Well, I did see a fairytale on the autobiographies sections,” you admitted.

Tom blinked, perplexed. “Huh we did that yesterday,” he was surprised. “Oh right but--” He coughed. “So, well, you’re seeking for an adventure book-”

“Not exactly,” you answered.

“What then, romance?”

You blinked. What did he mean by that?

“You seem like you read romance,” he pointed out.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned him, chuckling lightly.

He grinned. “Nothing, you just--suggested a romance book easily to Henry,” he pointed out. “It’s a good one, it broke my heart, in a good way.”

“You’ve read it?” You asked. He didn’t seem like someone who’d read romance. He… honestly didn’t look like someone who read, at all. Of course, you should never judge a book by its cover but of course the cover always tells us a lot, a name and an author at least. You knew his name, who was the author?

He smirked. “It’s ugly, and it’s sad-”

“But it’s love,” you finished his sentence, quoting the book. “Yeah,” you smiled, not believing he had actually read it. “Great book. You don’t seem like someone who’d read that.”

“I’m a sucker for those kinds of stories,” he admitted. “Don’t look like it, but I love that, soulmates and everything.”

You chuckled. “Me too,” you said.

“To think that two people are destined to find each other even when life pulls them apart,” he said. “And I mean he… waited 50 years.”

“Yes, he did, even when she’d made the mistake to reject him.”

“Sometimes that’s how love is,” he shrugged. And it was, you knew that.

“It is,” you said. “It’s complicated.”

“The book? Or love?” He looked into you, with a certain mischief.

“Both, I guess,” you said,calmly. “But I mean that’s the magic of that book, love is complicated and so is the book.”

“But also, it’s not-I mean, I loved it, don’t get me wrong but I couldn’t… I understood their love but I’ve-I mean it’s old love.”

You laughed. “Old love?”

He laughed softly to himself, “I mean, it’s not-Something I could relate to.”

“Well, no, because although love is something universal, not one love can be duplicated, love is unique.”

He watched you perplexed. You wondered if you had said something wrong, or if your way of talking about love with a stranger had bothered him. It bothered most people, most people were afraid of love and were confused by the way you saw it, and confused because you’d lost it so many times. Everyone wondered how you kept believing in it after so much pain, but that’s the thing about love, though there is one love, you can truly feel love for.

“I’ve never heard someone putting it that way,” he chuckled. “Love being something we all feel but at the same time… it’s different, yeah.”

Why were you talking about love with this man?

“That’s what I’ve gathered from all the romance novels you assumed I read,” you chuckled. “Love is universal but it’s personal.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “No, I guess… You’re… right, huh, I’ve never seen it that way,” he said. “So do you want another romance novel?”

Was he flirting?

You shook your head. “No,” you smiled. “I’m actually-that book.”

“No, wait, actually…” He interrupted, as he shook his head, probably backing away from flirting. “Sorry...This is bothering me, care showing me where the misplaced book was?” He asked.

You had just told him, was he flirting? You’d never known how to flirt so you wouldn’t know. But you guessed it harmed nobody showing him, you lead the way, still carrying your whole luggage.

But why the hell had you talked about that with a stranger. It felt weird, but he didn’t feel like one. Probably because you’d already known his name. There was something so incredibly familiar to him. So easily had you blurted out the whole love thing, and he probably was scared of it. Most people were, you would understand if he was, too.

“So--here,” you headed and tried to reach for the misplaced book on top of the shelf, as you had some stray sticker had flown and landed directly on your eyes, for your own luck. “Ow!” You tried to get it out but you couldn't.

“Oh, wait, wait, let me help,” he said before. “May I?”

“Yes, please,” you said, You only looked up, he held your chin, which definitely made you nervous, but he stared into your eyes and finally got the sticker out of your eye.

“I’m so sorry, sometimes they get stuck and we don’t see them-“ He said quickly getting his touch out of you.

“No, you’re good, don’t worry,” you said. “So, here’s the lost book.”

He watched you with curiosity and for a brief moment your eyes were locked into one but you quickly looked away. You were not doing this. This was so stupidly cliché, the love conversation with him, having to directly look into your eyes, it was so stupidly cliché and obviously not as romantic as you thought it was going in your head.. You hated it. Because you were not a stupid main character, this was so stupid. This things, in novels, would lead to some kind of romance, but you were not the main character and this was just stupid.

“Yeah, right,” he coughed. “But uh, wait, so for Love in The--eh, the book, yeah, how did- Why were you looking for it in the poetry section? I mean it is… very poetic but,” Tom was confused as he watched you. Felt weird he was looking at you, his eyes had this charm that made you feel like he only was fixated on you.

“I—Well, there were supposed to be some keys in that book,” you explained.

“Hm? Were there?” He asked with fake surprise, but he actually seemed confused.

You frowned. “They were, in that book and it’d be on that section—“

“Hm, doesn’t ring a bell,” he shrugged with a smirk.

“Yeah, in that book, Love in The Times of Cholera,” you pushed. “So—“

“Yeah, I do remember some keys,” he coughed, shaking his head. “But I’m not giving them to you,” he mumbled.

“Sophia told me—wait you’re not—?”You blinked.

“Sophia?” he seemed doubtious.

“Yeah, Sophia, your friend, right she is—in America, at my place, we—switched homes and so she left me the key there—“

“She did now?” He wasn't buying it.

“Yeah,” you continued. “She left, we exchanged homes for the holidays.”

“I--” He chuckled. “What?”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“She went on vacation, to my place in America, we switched homes for two weeks.”

He laughed. “I don’t believe you, Sophia doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, we have that in common,” you pointed out. “But—But—okay, so she’s in America, in Oregon.”

“Why would she go to Oregon?” Tom asked. “Of all places—“

“Yeah, look,” you cleared your throat. Did seem suspicious. “I—we both needed to get away so we switched places, and well—Why don’t you give me the key?”

“So, tell me, miss y/l/n, sorry I’m calling you that it’s what dear old Henry called you, but you’re expecting me to give you the key, to you, a stranger, to my best friend’s home?”

“Yeah...” you heard how it sounded.

“You’re expecting me to believe that?”

Well, he did have a point. “Well, yeah—I— thought she’d told you.“

“Sophia would never do that,” Tom said. You’d learned he was also annoying.

“Yeah, and neither would I, but here I am in London in a bookshop talking to you while holding my luggage, you really think I’m lying?”

He stared at you. “Yeah.”

And there it went, the fantasy had ended. Because you were not a main character in a stupid romance novel.

“You—Look, I know she—But look, she broke up with Danny, and she needed to get away and we—“

“Yeah but this is mental,” Tom said.

“It is,” you admitted. “And I might regret it, alright but I’m already here, thousand miles away and please, can I just have the key? I need a break, I need to-”

“I’m not, I can’t… I’m sorry I just can’t give it to you.”

“Well—Why—Look, we can call her? I don’t know if she’s there yet? But she can prove we actually did this?”

“Still I… Look, I would… recommend you a hotel, I mean-Look. There’s this hotel right beside--It’s on Notting Hill,”

“Please, let’s just… I’ll call her,” you said, taking out your phone. This was stressful enough.

“Oh, no, no, I’ll call her, how do I know it’s not a crazy friend of yours-”

“Crazy?” You frowned. If you had been attracted to the man in front of you, you definitely weren’t now.

“I’m-” He knew he had screwed up. “This is mental,” he whispered. He took out his phone, “She hasn’t answered all day- so-”

“She was on a plane.”

“Uh, huh, for all I know you could be a criminal,” Tom pointed out.

Criminal, he had just been flirting with you second before. “Ah, yeah, I am a criminal,” you snapped. You didn’t like him anymore.

He seemed angry, you didn’t know why.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said before walking away from you to hear. Of course. You technically didn’t blame him. Still he was rude.

You felt like crying. Again, this wasn’t right. This was the one thing why you’d left. Was this a mistake? It probably was, why else would you feel so small. He was right, this was.. A stranger, you were a stranger. And not in the way one would think, you were a stranger to yourself. Why were you there?

Honestly, you wanted to leave. It… was weird. You wondered why he didn’t believe it. Of course, he wouldn’t believe someone like Sophia would do this, Sophia seemed to be very calculated. Like someone who always knew what she was doing. You guessed you understood that.

But he seemed worried about her. Really Sophia had everything, at least someone was asking her what she was doing. No one questioned you. You watched him, he was angry, or worried or upset, or everything at once.

You could overhear him, just a few lines, you didn’t want to seem like you were intruding.

“The—Well, y/n? I don’t know her name—” He said and turned to you, he watched you from agair and you just nervously looked away. This was unbelievably awkward. “Henry called her—Whatever, no, she doesn’t have them, I have them, who is she?”

Henry had called you ‘Miss Y/L/n”, yes. But now he knew your name. He didn’t know you knew his.

You overheard again. “She is a stranger.”

And then it crossed your mind, Sophia was a stranger. Why the hell had you done this? How had you done this? And you felt it in your stomach, this wasn’t like you. You never did anything. This was risking everything. This was getting out of your shell.

“I… I don’t trust her. I’m… tell her to get a hotel,” you heard him.

This was just not it. You felt dizzy, and anxious and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to be your fairytale and it felt like the worst nightmare. How was Sophia doing?

At least she didn’t have to deal with anyone closing the door to your place, she’d have Tommy and you were sure the pup received her well.

Tom watched you and turned to his phone and then you knew he was speaking at a lower volume, he probably knew you had overheard him.

Tom was not happy, you could tell. Maybe this was his nightmare, after all, you assumed, he was in love with Sophia.

He walked back to you, still staring at his phone.

“Well, she’s gonna kill me if I don’t give you the keys,” he said, not still sure of it. “Look, I’m-”

“I know you don’t trust me, I get it, but-Look, I am already here, I’m tired, I honestly feel like crap and I’m on a foreign country trying to remain as calm as I coul, look, I get it, I’m doubting it myself, but I trust her, she’s on my place, with Tommy-”

“Who-?”

“My dog, and I’m trusting her with that, so I know, I know, it is...mental or whatever fancy british ass word you used, and I myself can’t quite put my head as to why I did this, I don’t do this kind of stuff, I never do anything like this, and I know, it’s-Weird, and crazy but-You don’t have to be rude, alright? I’m not a criminal, I’m not- I’m just a girl whose heart was broken and needed to escape, and I-and Sophia was, too, okay? So maybe we just-I don’t know, I need to...” You knew your voice had broken a litte, and it surely pissed you off. “And Sophia, if she’s your friend, you’d understand why she’s doing this, she got her heartbroken, she was destroyed, someone made her believe it was her fault she was cheated on,” you pushed. “You know, when I talked to her-”

“You don’t know-”

“Maybe I just met her but I seem to understand her better than you,” you said. “And-and and before you say anything,” he had opened his mouth to complain. “I know, she is calculated, and I know she makes the right decision, but you don’t…Do you know how she feels with the breakup?”

He didn’t answer.

“Look, I don’t… That’s between you and her, alright-I-”

You’d been saved by the bell, literally. A customer had walked in and Tom had to help them out.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then dug in his pocket. He hesitantly handed them to you, but he didn’t let go as you had your hand reaching for them.

“It—uh, the red one is—“

“From inside the bookshop and the blue one outside,” you nodded. “Yeah, she told me.”

Tom sighed before finally letting the keys fall on your hand. His fingers had brushed lightly, something you would’ve noticed and dreamed about 10 minutes ago, but you weren’t so fond of him now.

“Thank you,” you said and headed to the door where Sophia had told you it would be. At that point you realized, you hadn’t even properly introduced yourself to him.

You didn’t want to, honestly.

You had trouble opening the door but as soon as Tom had turned to you, you managed to open it. You walked in, and as soon as you’d closed the door, you wanted to cry, because it seemed like it was your only talent.

But you went upstairs and found the place, it was so neat, and organized and perfect and… Very office-like. Everything was where it was meant to be, so perfectly organized. Everything had a place. It was so clean. Nothing, nothing out of place. With plants, she’d told you about her houseplants. Elegantly and modernly decorated.

Perfect. So elegant, with a dining table that had stationery on top. Dining table that was used to work? Sophia really didn’t know how to separate her job from her life. You’d known it since she’d told you she lived above her bookshop. Which honestly, you couldn’t blame, your job was writing and you were sure all your writings were scattered around your house. Your place was a mess, really, compared to Sophia’s squared house.

Everything was so in place. The order you needed after the mess you had of a life. Just a glance and you felt… great. You’d even forgotten the whole issue with that random british dude, who, you’d avoid.

This was incredible. You dropped the bags in the middle of the place and ran around her house to discover every little detail, because you knew you’d get to know who Sophia was better by her place.

Her kitchen was impeccable, and her fridge was filled not with any comfort food that you’d been having since Chad, but everything was perfect. You loved to cook, and you’d end up using this kitchen, but you saw it was barely used, you could tell. She probably didn’t cook much.

There was another room, another office, you presumed, though the whole place seemed like an office, too formal and ordered, so organized again, with a small bookshelf, classic books and new ones, never opened. You wondered if she was like you, that couldn’t get to read them. She was a fan of stationery it seemed, and organizers, and post it here and there, color coded. Like everything was there for a reason.

Three pictures, one of her and her family, one with Danny and another one with Tom. He definitely was in love with her.

You explored a bit more. You even feared to be stepping on the floor, fearing you’d ruin it. The place seemed incredibly arranged. You didn’t belong there, but at the same time it was soothing. It was bright, and it helped. As if seeing so much order would help put some order in your own life. The place felt like it was cleaning your mind.

You headed upstairs to the bedroom, and a big bed welcomed you, with a perfect white duvet and plush pillows. You, excitedly ran and jumped to lay down on it.

This was just what you needed.

However, you’d noticed that even though she’d told you you lived with Danny, there was no sight of anyone else living here. It didn’t feel like a couple’s place. It felt… Lonely. There was no sign of someone else who lived there. No home.

But her bed was comfortable. And you were so, so tired. And then again… the bed was so, so comfy. Besides if the math was right, it was 2am back at home, so a nap wouldn’t be so bad. You stared at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. This was it. No, whatever doubt you'd had before, it was erased. This was your chance, sure it was completely crazy, but this… You needed to escape, and you were in a nice place, in Kensington, London. Not in boring Oregon anymore. What was Sophia doing? Was she going through the big mess you were going through?

She probably didn’t feel small. But you decided this was no time to feel small. Though, you were tired, this was no time to pity yourself. So you took a shower, put in some nice clothes and decided to enjoy the day. You were away, you didn’t have to feel sorry for yourself. You’d have time for that later, you were in London, you didn’t need to cry on the other side of the world. You’d done enough crying already. Over a guy named Chad.

You needed to explore London, for God’s sake, you were in Notting Hill, you were no Julia Roberts but who was to say you wouldn’t find your Hugh Grant?

You were sure to bring the keys and made sure to walk out over the exit that was not inside the bookshop. You didn’t want to face Tom. But when you’d walked out, you’d seen him, not as cheerful as the first time you’d seen him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and running a hand through his face. He did look out when he’d seen you, you decided, once again, to ignore him. Even though you were sure he had tried to reach for you. But no, you ignored him.

And you would keep ignoring him, this was not time to deal with a british man who was not Hugh Grant.

Timmy fic (Phonecall Tom has)

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