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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

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Mean (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️✴️🔞

💸 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

💸 Genre: Mafia!AU, Single Parent AU!, Angst, fluff, Smut

💸 Warnings: bad language aka cursing, mentions of cheating, mentions of illegal business, manhandling and not the nice kind, tsundere Jungkook, it’s not like he likes you duh, guns, description of violence, restriction of movement and not in a kinky way, protected sex because dude he’s got one kid okay that’s enough, unconventional romance, choking, near death experience, angst did I mention angst

💸 Summary: Jeon Jungkook was kinda cute, you had to admit that- but he was also a massive douchebag with his head up his ass. And a cute kid.

A/N: First of all, I want to apologize to anyone I might dissapoint with this. I've changed up the story concept numerous times- and the first trailer is in no way a proper teaser anymore, since it has nothing to do with this story anymore. I somehow hope you still enjoy the story however. If not- I hope you'll stick around for future content!

Taglist: @drumsofheaven @yzkyzkuniverse @strwberrybtch @kirbykook @teresaisla @park-hera-gi @justzeera @taestannie @bambuzlee (there were several people I couldn’t tag- I’m sorry about that!)

Jeon Jungkook was facing his worst enemy.

Now, considering his work and all those rumors going on about him, this could be anything really; from an entire army storming his house, to readying himself for waterboarding. But no, this enemy he was currently standing across from was way more vile and difficult to get under control. The situation was slowly growing desperate on his side- this was a life and death situation.

"Mina, come on now." Jungkook pleaded as the toddler vehemently refused to raise her arms properly so he could slip on her dress for the day. He could understand her, to an extend- he wasn't a morning person either, but he had to overcome this in order to be successful- and she had to as well.

Well, success was not really that important at her age, but getting her to daycare definitely was.

"Mina I have a meeting soon and if you continue to be a brat I can't send you off again properly." He tried, knowing how much she hated him leaving in a rush like usually. He'd promised her the day prior as he'd tucked her into bed that he would, this time, at least stay until her friends had arrived, yet he couldn't have known that this situation would occur the next morning.

Sometimes being a single father was way worse than anything he was facing at his actual job.

"There we go!" He cheered as she finally caved in, pouting a bit before she giggled at the silly face her father was making in order to get her to smile. He hated sending her off in a foul mood, knowing that she could be an absolute devil's child if she felt like it. In a way, she was very similar to him, which was to be expected with her mother not being in the picture. He didn't mind it much, however- a cheating spouse was not really what he wanted by his side, if he was being entirely honest with himself. It was enough already knowing that almost all of his 'friends' and 'business partners' were shameless liars. He didn't need to live and raise a child with one as well.

"Tiger!" The young girl cheerfully exclaimed, as the both made their way into the kitchen. It wasn't just a random comment from her side, because her chubby hand already pointed at the cereal box designed with colorful images on the counter, way too high for her but perfectly reachable for her father as he chuckled, balancing her on his hip as he prepared a small bowl for her.

"No funny business though, young lady." He said, as he sat down with her at the table. "We don't have to hurry, but we can't waste time either." He explained, as he watched her eat her breakfast with a concentrated face. He smiled at the picture, sometimes wishing this would be how his days would always start. Sadly, that wasn't the case- most of the times really, her nanny took her to daycare.

Which was another problem.

Her nanny had recently filed in for her termination, her age getting to her as she finally made the decision to settle down for her last years of life, she'd said. He accepted it without much resistance, having build too much respect for the elderly woman over the course of time by now. It left him with a gaping hole however, one that he knew he needed to fill.

But with who?

He couldn't just hire anybody for Mina at this point in his life. People needed to be fully trustworthy to be even given knowledge of his child at all. Most didn't even know she existed- the public unaware of her relation to him. He kept the facade up that she was merely the child of a close friend, just to keep her out of range of any potential enemies he had gathered over time.

His life really wasn't fit for a child at all, but what was he supposed to do?

"Y/N!" A small voice exclaimed behind you, making you look around from where you were cutting apples as the small child appeared.

"Mina!" You answered just as brightly, picking her up as she giggled excitedly. "Did you have breakfast yet?" You asked, as another daycare worker came inside.

"Yeah!" She said, and you looked at her surprised. "Daddy and I had breakfast!" She explained, as you placed her back down onto the ground. "He'ven brought me here today!" She said, and you hummed affirmatively,

"That sounds awesome!" You said, as she beamed up at you. "Why don't you go sit at the table, we're almost having our morning snack. You think you can eat some apples?" You asked, and she proudly nodded, before zooming off, stumbling a bit as she missed the slight gap of the door.

"He didn't come inside." Jenny said, as she watched the little girl sit down next to a boy her age. "I saw that he was sitting in his car, but she got out herself." She explained further, as you continued cutting the apples and making some cuts to have them resemble a bunny. "I swear to god-" She started, as you cut her off.

"We don't know what his life is like, Jenny." You said, as she huffed. "It's not our kid, it's not our life. She isn't unhappy, she's healthy, she's not mistreated. Case closed." You explained further as you discarded the scraps of apple unneeded in the trash, before rinsing the knife you'd used. "I'm not too happy about it either, but we're not her mother." You said, as you dried your hands.

Jenny sighed. "I know, but like-" She said, walking over to you to help you place the banana slices and grapes as well. "She's such a sweet kid. I don't know, but he seems like such a dick honestly. Like, have you heard his phonecall last week?" You snorted. Everyone did at this point.

Mina had had a minor incident, when she'd stumbled and fell. She'd scraped her knee, cried a little, but after a moment everything had been fine again. He however, had been livid upon finding out his daughter had been hurt, even though the scratches didn't even need a bandaid. Even though he'd only been on the phone with your superior, he'd made such a scene out of it that it became like local news around the daycare.

"I still don't know what the fuck that was about." Jenny exclaimed, taking a sip of her coffee as she kept an eye on the kids in the main room. "Like, yeah, she fell, but nothing happened." She said, and you agreed.

Shrugging, you grabbed some plates and napkins, and looked at Jenny. "Again." You reminded her. "As harsh as it sounds, you know me." Jenny sighed.

"I know."

You took back everything you had said this morning.

This prick had the audacity to keep you waiting for more than two hours now, without reacting to any amount of phonecalls you'd done by now. Mina was almost asleep on your lap, and you were angry to say the least. This was supposed to be your last day of work for a week, you were supposed to be curled up on your couch in nothing but underwear and fluffy socks, hidden by a blanket and eating icecream while watching netflix. You were definitely not supposed to sit here at your daycare until even the janitor was about to go home. "Fuck it." You mumble, carefully balancing the young girl on your hip as you grab your bag and keys.

You wave the janitor and cleaning staff goodbye on their way out, and take out your phone for a bus or subway that could drive close to where Mina's address is- but you notice there is nothing in her jacket written that you could use as one. You instead simply call the number written down for emergencies, and wait as it rings.

once.

twice.

"Hello?"

You are a bit taken aback by the voice on the other line, masculine, but clearly not as old as you'd thought he'd sound. "Uh, yeah, this is Mina's daycare, you mind picking her up these days, or not?" You casually say, Mina moving around a bit as to bring her thumb close to her lips. You internally coo at her.

"Shit! Fuck- I, where are you?" He asks, and you furrow your brows. Where the hell does he think you are, or does he seriously not know where his daughters daycare is? Wait, is that even her father?

"I- listen, am I even talking to her father or who is this?" You ask, and suddenly you feel extremely uncomfortable. This was a bad idea, what if this isnt her dad at all? You could loose your job for this!

"Yeah, yes. Listen I'm gonna send someone to pick her up alright? Should be there in an hour or so." He says as if frustrated, and you scoff, making him question you on the other line as if he was just struck by thunder. "Excuse me?" He says, voice low, but you're not intimitated.

"First of all, I'm not convinced. Second of all, and pardon my french, but are you nuts?! It's already way too late for her to be up, and I've finished my shift hours ago!" You complain, and he clears his throat over the line, clearly unhappy about your lack of understanding.

"Jeon Mina has a small beauty mark underneath her lower lip, she hates strawberries for some reason, and her biggest secret is that she is actually scared of unicorns. There, happy?" He grits out, and you chew on your lip. He was good. "Second of all, Miss." He makes sure to pronounce every word. "You're getting paid to look after my kid. If that's all you want I'm paying you extra for the inconvenience-" Oh boy, there we go.

"If I cared about your stupid money I would've called authorities hours ago, S.I.R." You start, careful to tone your voice down as to not wake her up. "And you know what, thats a great Idea actually! Let me just-" You begin, but he cuts you off with a sound that sounds awfully like a door closing.

"Fuck you, I'm there in 20." He says.

Jeon Jungkook was not too fond of woman.

That much was clear ever since he'd been cheated on and left with a kid, but it had always been like that. It wasn't like he was afraid of them, or didn't like them, it was more like, during his life, woman had been the reason for heartbreak and bad news all along. His mother had been an alcoholic, his dad desperately trying to get her back on track. His sister had been involved into shady business early on, a wild child that would do anything to get on peoples nerves. His aunt, which only ever visited to gain money. Women were bad news.

So his own surprise had been very prominent when he spotted you on the bench with his kid in your arms,her chubby arms clinging onto you like a koala. You seemed to be reading something on your phone, careful not to point the device too close to Mina so she wouldn't be disturbed. You were pretty, he had to admit that, even from far away- and you seemed like a confident person, from what he'd heard over the phone. You suddenly noticed him as he drove a bit closer, car tires crunching the gravel and snow underneath while his headlights shut off, to not blind you both. He stepped out, as you woke Mina up to announce to her that her father had finally arrived.

"Daddy!" She screached sleepily, running towards him with stumbling legs. He picked her up with a smile before he turned around, having every intention to buckle her up in his backseat as you came closer.

"Huh. Mind telling me why I shouldn't inform authorities about this?" You asked, and he huffed out a breath with a roll of his eyes, pulling out his wallet. You simply stood there, arms crossed, not at all fazed by the amount of money he held in front of you- you simply raised your eyebrow. "I mean, if money could talk I'd ask your bills, sure. But that right there isn't an answer." You replied, and he gritted his teeth, jaw clenching. Why were you being so difficult.

"Okay, how much?" He said, and you suddenly moved, shifted, as if absolutely offended by his offer.

"Do I look like a streetworker to you sir?" You said, and he closed his eyes for a moment, until another car seemed to pull up.

"You're getting picked up." He says, ready to step into his car as you look at him with confusion. "You don't know them?" He asks, and you shake your head, having every intention to check as he notices something familiar peeking out of one of the car windows. As if on autopilot, he rips his passenger side open, pushes you in, and runs to get inside the drivers seat.

There are shots fired, Mina is holding her hands over her ears as she simply stares at you, who is absolutely shell-shocked.

What the hell just happened?

So yeah, that's how you got here-

In a room that looked awfully like the interrogation rooms in your late night netflix crime shows. There was someone sitting in front of you- Mina's father, watching you, like you were going to do anything. But you were as quiet as a mouse, not saying anything.

"So you didn't know them? At all?" He questioned for the second time in the past ten minutes, and you shook your head. "Hard to believe. Then again, why would you ever tell me that your Dad's brother was sentenced to two years for escorting drugs- only getting two years because he snitched." He said, and your eyes widened.

"Okay what the hell-" You started, but he cut you off.

"Oh, I hit a nerve-" But you weren't having it.

"Oh an I'm gonna hit your pretty nose if you don't stop cutting me off!" You said, making him smirk. For some reason, this was quite entertaining to him- the only woman he ever had in here were so keen on keeping up that shy and innocent facade, that you were a breath of fresh air. "Listen, I don't know why you decided to dig up things that happened when I was literally a TODDLER- or how you even got that information - I swear to god I will really break your nose!" You ended as he had tried to speak again, making him chuckle.

If you weren't being held captive after getting your night ruined you might as well would've thought that was pretty hot.

"I was five years old- I had nothing to do with it, and my dad had no contact whatsoever with his brother after what had happened." You explained. "If you can find that, you can also find that I haven't had contact with my family in years either." You said, leaning back, as he spoke.

"I did. Which is quite confusing to me." He said.

You suddenly went stone cold on him. "It really isnt that deep." You said.

"Were you avoiding them?" He asked. "Because of what happened? Or because your dad got involved into something?"

"Because they're dead." You said.

Well. This was something that made him actually stop and think for a second. He did dig into that nasty part of your family, but he never looked further- their death was something he had overlooked. And by your reaction as you said it, the way you said it, he knew that you weren't lying. "Alright." He said. "But you do realize that I can't just let you go like that, right?" He said.

"Figured." You said. "So, should I stand facing against the wall or with my back against it so you can aim better?" You said, and he took a deep breath. Technically, yes, that would be a logical outcome.

"Neither." He said, and you raised your eyebrow. "I have an offering." He said, and your entire body went stiff, arms crossing in front of your chest. A pure sign of whatever he was going to say, your first reaction would be no. "I need a nanny for Mina." He said, and your lips parted, confusion clear on your face.

He almost thought it was kind of cute.

"You what?" You said.

"I need a nanny for Mina." He repeated. "It's a win-win situation for both of us if you think about it. You get to- in a way- keep your job and a bonus in terms of payment, and I will have someone to take care of Mina. And I also don't have to put a bullet into your pretty little head." He said, leaning forward with the last words.

"This isn't really a question, isn't it?" You said, and he laughed.

"You're smart- I like you."

„But that’s not how daddy does it..“ she wonders, as you tie her shoes for her, before looking up into her eyes. She really does resemble her father. Well, a more innocent version, that is.

„Well everyone does it differently.“ you say, well aware that there were numerous ways to tie a simple bow. „Your daddy probably has learned it from someone who does it like he does. I learned it from my dad.“ you explained as you went to pick up her backpack, carrying it for her as she took your hand.

„yours looks prettier tho!“ she exclaimed happily, a skip in her step as she kept looking at her shoes with a smile. You grinned, a sense of pride filling you. „Daddy‘s always looks crooked on one side-„ she said, before a voice broke through the sweet moment.

„You hurt me Princess. You always said they look nice.“ he hummed from his spot in the doorway, leaned on the frame, looking at you with something you could only describe as unsatisfied, while shooting his daughter a smile.

What the hell have you done wrong now?

This had been something going on for months now. Ever since you started working for him as a nanny, Mina had been nothing but a ray of sunshine- but he, he was not even a raincloud. He was the angry grinch miltiplied by a hundred, ready to piss everyone off twenty-five-eight. Somehow everything you did wasn't up to his standards; the way you cooked for Mina, the way you dressed her, hell, even right now with the way you tied a fucking bow.

You really hoped next time he washed his hands, his sleeves would roll down.

"There's an emergency gun underneath the back-" He started as Mina was out of listening-reach.

"I won't use it." You said.

Jungkook had tried to get you trained at least in the basics of guns- but you practically had an allergy to it, refusing to so much as touch one. He didn't quite know what your problem was, but after a while, he had given up on it- simply sending one of his guards with you whenever he could. By now, you were an easy target as well if found alone, so you had joined him in his place, occupying one of the larger guest rooms. He had said that it was to keep an eye on you, but internally, he simply didn't want you to get hurt.

And yeah, at first that was because he didn't trust you, at all- but by now, somehow, you had sneaked your way into his heart, in a way. Even though he himself would always grumpily comment on it, he loved how you made Mina smile and the entire mansion light up. Things felt a little brighter, a little less tense, and a little less lonely with you around. It felt as if you were an actual family.

And that scared the shit out of him, because in no way was he going to fall for his daughters nanny.

And, after all; you hated his guts.

If Jungkook knew the situation you and Mina had gotten yourselves into, you don't know if he would be proud of her or kill you.

Turns out that the guard Jungkook had sent you out with wasn't actually following his orders at all, but words from a different person entirely- you imagined they were highly likely the one's out to shoot you back when you first met the tall mafia boss and father. Now, the only thing they definitely did not get right however, was that you were Mina's mother- and someone Jungkook valued enough to give up his safety. This was true for Mina; the young child was his everything, and he'd cut off his limbs just to know her safe and sound- but you? That was just absolutely stupid. Sure, you've been living together for quite some time now, and he stopped trying to mentally push you down the stairs every morning as well. But there was nothing more than a mild case of friend- and partnership. You weren't being emo; Jungkook had, after all, said it again and again that he had crossed out the dating game. He's got enough trouble with Mina and you, he had said.

Well, seemed like one of those issues would solve itself.

"Again, what're you gonna do?" You say, as Mina looks at you from out of the vents above you had helped her into seconds ago.

"Crawl where the nice air is, call daddy- and don't look back." She repeats proudly, but you can see it clearly that she's just as scared as you are.

"Exactly, good job princess." You praise, and she nods with a pout. "Once daddy gets you, you'll be safe." You promise, and she wants to complain- but you don't let her, closing the vent again as you hear her shuffling away. This was fine. Mina would be safe, Jungkook would have one person less to worry about- he could move away, bring her to a different part of the country where no one knew her, and she could simply go to school next year and forget all of this ever happened.

You were just a bit sad that you'd never get to see it.

Of course you weren't her mother- but it was hard not to let her inside your heart, with the way she was. The charms her dad didn't have, she got them times ten. She was just so sweet, and you were around her all the time, it was hard not to somehow grow fond of her. You just hoped she'd be alright.

"Where's the kid, whore?!" A guard yelled after noticing you were the only one left in the room. You simply smiled, not answering, before he grabbed your neck, pulling you up as much as he could as he fumed. "Save that stupid grin for your son of a bitch at home." He barks, and you desperately try to breathe- unsuccessfully so, until he forcefully pushes you back down, the back of your head hiding the concrete floor with a sickening crack. You squealed out in pain, holding onto the spot for dear life as if that would somehow help it- but it didn't. "I knew sluts like you have to be tied up. You're all just trouble." He says, pulling you by your legs as another set of people come in, binding your legs and hands. You can already feel your fingers getting cold from how tight your wrists are tied- but you black out from the kick to your stomach before you can quite dwell on it.

"Fuck!" He yells, before he gets up, hands in his hair to somehow help himself not punch the laptop on his table. He's seen it, seen it all- from the moments you would shield Mina like a fearless lioness, the second you had lifted her up into the vents even though he knew your shoulder had to be in horrible pain, to the very moment you had faced the consequences of your actions. He hated that he had to wait, that he had to simply sit here in his office like a coward just to watch you take the beatings.

Because here was the thing with Jungkook; even though he liked to portray himself as someone who always takes the upper hand in things and troubles, when it came to his own personal life far away from his criminal business he ran, he couldn't seem to ever make up his mind. It was like a repeat of his past love affair- but instead of his ex-wife cheating and leaving him with a child, there was you, in some way fighting like a true lionness in order to keep said child safe and sound, even though you didn't even had to. Technically, this would've been the perfect opportunity for you to finally get your freedom back in a way. Because without Mina, there was no use for you being in his grasp anymore. Without her, there was no agreement between the two of you.

And yet there you were. And yet again, he simply watched, simply did nothing.

The entire mansion was already on high alert by now; his most trusted friends Seokjin and Yoongi already out to your location- he could wait. He could wait. He could wait.

Everything would somehow turn out to be just fine by the end of this day. He would successfully take his daughter into his arms, Yoongi and Seokjin would get you out of there, and after a good nights sleep and some first aid for you, things would just return to normal.

But what was normal at this point?

He didn't want things to continue like they did currently. He wanted change, for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you about his inner thoughts, about his desires concerning you and his future. He wanted to tell you that he didn't just want you to be at his home and with him and his daughter just because of some stupid agreement. He didn't want you to stay with him because he forced you to.

His phone began to chime, your face greeting him as the caller ID as he accepts it. "Daddy-" His heart sinks down to the floor as he hears Mina sniffle on the other side of the line. He has to wait, he thinks, repeats like a mantra. He has to somehow calm her down, tell her everything's alright- "They're hurting mommy!" Mina wails, and somehow, those words make him snap.

Fuck waiting.

In a way, Mina was a smart kid. She had been nothing but understanding when Jungkook and her mother had broken up- divorced, and fought until she eventually left for good. She had been a little sad for a long time, thinking it had somehow been her fault; but he had assured her, and later on, explained, that Mommy simply didn't love Daddy anymore. In Daycare, she was one of the most well behaved kids ever encountered- careful, and calm. Of course she got excited and happy and sometimes made a mess; but she also was very careful who she interacted with, what kinds of friends she made, and how much she talked about home. She never complained, never threw public tantrums.

Jungkook truly was lucky- that the only thing left of his shattered marriage had been her.

He never had relationships after that- never dated, never truly searched for someone. No one, in his eyes, was worth the risk- and even after meeting you, that was his opinion. But as cliche as it sounded, you were quite different from anyone he'd ever met before.

You spoke your mind; always saying what bothered you, never beating around the bush. Yet, you weren't being a bitch about things. No, you actually could be pretty cute if you wanted to be- be it the moments he had caught you and Mina sneak a taste of her birthday cake in the middle of the night, or the one time he had been sick.

You had been such an angel to him.

Helping him towards the bathroom, never even scrunching your nose in distaste whenever he had to throw up. You simply rubbed his back, helping him towards the sink to rinse, just to lead him back into his bedroom. You had aired the room out, made the bed, made sure that he was staying hydrated and at least tried to eat every day- all without any complains.

Maybe that was the moment his perspective of you shifted into dangerous territory.

He had somehow become hyperaware of the things you did. How well you got along with Mina, how easy going you were becoming with him- how confident yet nurturing and sweet you were, gently scolding him sometimes to not overwork himself. You always made sure his kid felt happy and was healthy, never so much as whined about your past friendships lost; you had simply accepted the new situation.

In a way, you were what he silently dreamed of at night.

Because as much as he loved the sight of you holding Mina whenever she had a nightmare and couldn't sleep, he somehow also craved to be held throughout the night by your arms. Just like he held his daughter in that moment after she had climbed out of the vent into his arms. He could make out some of her words as he simply let himself feel her tiny body in his arms for a moment. Just to make sure she was really there, really alright, really out of harms way. She kept on crying out for you, for him to help you, to save you-

So it was only natural for him to jump out of his car and run after Seokjin, Yoongi, and their squad, as they entered the building.

Sometimes at night, when you got aware of all the different sounds of the room, you heard the blood rush inside your brain.

Just like now; but now, it was so loud that you could barely hear anything else. Things seemed hazy, fuzzy, your ears stuffed with cotton wool drowning out any sounds might happening around you. Your eyes stayed closed, light way too bright for your raging headache- and the stale metal taste on your tongue wasn't helping either. Your hands had started to tingle long ago, and your knees were hurting from being in the same position for this long. But the moment someone touched you next, it wasn't forceful. It was so gentle, and almost- scared?

You couldn't hear, but you could feel. How the rope was cut, blood rushing painfully into your hands and legs again, pins and needles making them hypersensitive as you were suddenly held- moved, carried?

It smelled like home, that was something your dizzy mind was able to properly make out. It smelled like Jungkooks mansion, and a bit like his office- a faint vanilla hitting your senses, making you faintly smile as your hand reached out, unknowingly grabbing his shirt, holding the fabric as tight as you could as you moaned out in pain when he placed you down again, warmth surrounding you.

Maybe you were dying?

Or maybe not.

Because after some hazy and confusing dreams, you slowly came back to your senses. Eyes opening slowly, there it was; the curtains you knew so well, the balcony opened, air crisp and fresh around you as the door opened. You wanted to move your head, but the fear of triggering another headache was too big.

"Y/N?" Jungkooks voice asked, warm, and almost hesitant. You hummed, and he snapped his head around, noticing that yes- after days of sleeping and slipping in and out of consciousness you were actually awake again. He walked into your field of vision, looking so casual; his white button up undone at the first two buttons, sleeves rolled up as he sat down close to you, palm on the blanket covering you as he-

smiled?

"W-" You had to cough a bit before clearing your throat. "Who are you and what have you done to Jungkook?" You said, and he chuckled, sighing in relief- you had, after all, not lost your charm.

"I think past Jungkook had a moment of self-reflection." He said, watching you as his hand placed itself onto yours, warmth spreading over your skin. "I'm glad you're okay." He admitted. "And thank you. For keeping.. Mina safe." He ended, and you smiled.

"That's literally my job." You said, and he got more serious.

"No, and you know what I mean." His voice was deep and rough, yet held no authority like usual. "You had chances to tell them who you were. That you had no connection to me other than through her; yet you didn't. And we both know why." He said, and you looked at him.

"There are more reasons than just one." You said, eyes drifting to his now empty ring finger on the hand resting on his thigh.

"Does it matter which one I mean?" He asked, and you wanted to scoff.

"It does to me." You said, and he shifted closer after a second, properly holding your hand now as he looked at yours- still a little scratched, but nothing that wouldn't heal.

"You did it because that's the reason you live here." He said. "You also did it because you adore her just as much as I do. And you.." He began, but grew unsure.

"And I?" You smiled, and he looked at you with his typical seriousness.

"And you somehow got stuck in an emotional mess." He explained. "You somehow, deep down, wanted it to be true." His thumb moved over the back of your hand as he spoke. "You wished that.. maybe there was more to it than just, partnership." He said, and you still smiled gently.

"Did I now?" You teased, but to your surprise, he was still looking straight at you.

"I know I did." He humms out. "I still do."

"You're stupid." You said, and he laughed bitterly, taking your words the wrong way as he slipped his out of yours.

"I know." He said, getting up to leave but stopped as you spoke.

"Good." You said, chuckling before coughing. "What, no kiss for me after all I've been through?" You giggled as his wide eyes stared at you. "Rude." You said, and he suddenly realized that no- you weren't rejecting him. You were accepting.

You felt the same.

Noticing his own awkwardness, he leaned over, hands supporting his body as he leaned down, properly placing his lips onto yours. You had never imagined what kissing Jungkook would feel like, but you certainly would've never guessed how gentle and absolutely loving it would be. One of his hands moved towards your cheek, holding it, as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

"Mommy!" Came Mina's excited voice, cries instantly noticable as she jumped onto the bed, burying her head into your chest as you held her, a few tears in your eyes from her jumping.

"Mina baby, be careful okay?" He said. But your words were the reason that he ended up tearing up, at the end.

"Mommy's still hurting baby." You said. "But she'll get better soon."

Not even during the first few magical months of being together with his past ex, had it ever felt like this.

He was euphoric almost; with the way you felt, moved, breathed. It all felt like so much to him, made him feel so.. He couldn't explain it. He had his hands on your hips, fingers careful not to press too hard, but having enough force to move you back and forth over his lap- his length moving in and out of your heat, making you whine, as he watched your breasts in front of him. You fit so perfectly like this, felt so amazing, managed to make him feel needy instead of the other way around.

He turned you over slipping out of you sloppily as he moved positions, now above you as he spread your legs, entering you again easily. He pulled you by your thighs, holding you in place as he began to thrust again, your eyes closing with every movement of his hips.

He loved the sight of it.

Deep down he wanted to take the condom off; he wanted to fill you up, cum inside over and over and over until your cunt would overflow. Not only just to claim you in a weird animalistic sense, but to also make his family complete. He had cut his ties to his illegal activities by now, had settled down with you- and he knew, there was no other person he'd ever have a child with again than with you. "I want to cum inside." He said breathlessly, making you whine in return. "Hm, you'd like that?" He asked teasingly, his thrusts gaining more strength as if to underline his statement. "Stuff you full of my cum, make you leak it and mess up the sheets.." He continues, hand reaching between the two of you to find your clit. "just to make love to you over and over again. I wanna make you cry." He gritted out, suddenly moving you around face down. He pulled up your lower body, entering you again, gliding in easily with the amount of slick you were leaking. "And you'd take it wouldn't you?" He asks, making you nod and groan out as he grows more desperate, faster, harder- throwing you off the edge but never stopping. "You're gonna take it until I cum, don't you dare move away from me." He scolds, holding you tightly, making you gasp out in overstimulation as he continues on, chasing his own high.

He reaches it with a loud groan, burying himself deep inside as he holds you, peppering kisses onto your spine. "I love you, hm.." He whispers out. "So good, so pretty.. all mine.." He huffs, simply falling onto the mattress with you in his arms, cock still buried inside you.

There was a moment of silence, until he spoke again. "I really do mean it though." He said earning only a tired humm from you. He simply chuckled at that, holding you close as he decided to maybe bring that topic up when the timing was a bit better.

For once, he felt like a normal person. Right next to you, in your arms, as you turned around to pull him close, burying your face into his chest.

Right where he belonged.

#jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jk imagine #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #mafia bts #mafia jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it.

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base.

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!”

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him.

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his.

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name

#apparently i like it when big strong men are bad at talking because they're thinking too much #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Text

Paloma, Part II

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 8900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: “plot bloat” (trying to get Paloma where she needs to go); fully legal age gap; curse words; alcohol; Whiskey acting like a bastard; a little sprinkling of angst; open-mouth kissing; protected P/V sex; some extra-soft!Frankie

On your third Monday at Statesman New York you led a planning meeting that should have been easy. Jack Daniels made it anything but.

The worst part was that you hadn't even been properly introduced yet. Where Champ had rolled out the red carpet for you at Louisville HQ, Whiskey was a phantom, too busy to meet with you during your first couple of weeks. That made what happened in the meeting even more humiliating.

You started by outlining the research that your team had gathered, the analysis that they had carefully done, and presented the options and outcomes. When you were done, Whiskey threw his copy of your report down on the table and said, "That's horseshit."

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, but you tried to hold your ground. "Excuse me?"

Jack waved his fingers dismissively, "That's alright, I'll excuse you. This isn't the kind of work I expected from our new 'hotshot' team lead. Why isn't there information about the facilities we'll be targeting?"

"There are no 'facilities' at this location, Agent. It's a one-and-done for a drop and extract. There's nothing to raid, nothing to seize, and nothing to see."

"Really?" He arched one eyebrow at you and rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. The sheer cockiness of it made you burn with irritation. "So how come the information we got last Friday tells us that there's a production facility the next block over? You really gonna send our agents halfway around the world without botherin' to target the facility next door?"

You froze. Was he correct? That didn't seem possible. How had your team missed that? You held his gaze with as much assertiveness as you could muster, trying to match his attitude so that you wouldn't appear to be weak. "I don't have information about any facilities."

He cracked a smirk, "Well then, you're not very good at your job, are you darlin'?"

You swallowed hard and tried not to let tears rise. How dare he talk down to you? What the hell was his problem? Another agent spoke up, saying that if new information had come in recently, then you could review it and reconvene later to discuss its impact. The meeting disbanded.

You felt like you had been sucker-punched, and you weren't sure if you wanted to flee to your office, or sit gripping the edge of the table and glare Whiskey down. You opted to stay, waiting for everyone else to file out. Finally it was just you and Whiskey left, sitting at the big conference table and having some kind of a stubborn staring contest. This was not how you wanted to start your new job.

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" You gritted the question out and held his gaze. You knew that cursing at a senior agent, not to mention the one who was the face of Statesman Whiskey and de facto head of the New York office, probably wasn't the wisest way to start your tenure... but neither was backing down and letting him roll right over you.

"Nothin' personal, darlin', but I can't let you give my agents incorrect or missing information. Your team should have known about the facilities at this location."

"It sure felt personal, Agent Whiskey. If you have a problem with my work, you take it up with me privately. I don't mind admitting when I've made a mistake, but it's shitty to treat people like that in front of others." You glared at him, trying to look as fierce as you could.

He finally looked away from you, and muttered something that might have been an apology.

"What's that, Agent Whiskey? I didn't quite hear you."

"I said, 'I'm sorry.' You're right. That was unfair of me."

Before you could stop yourself, you found acid on your tongue. "Well, well, the great Agent Whiskey lowers himself to apologize. No wonder you flash that charm at everything on two legs. Your manners can't stand on their own, can they?"

If you hadn't been so focused on gathering up your paperwork, you would have seen a flicker of hurt cross his face. Instead you stomped out of the conference room and thanked the stars that you hadn't cried. By the time you got back to your office, a cold ball of regret was starting to form just below your ribs. You prided yourself on being able to work effectively with everyone, and you were extremely proud of your track record at Statesman so far. Why hadn't you been less confrontational, or tried to smooth things over? Why had you jumped straight to a pissing contest?

---

"God, what an asshole!"

"I told you, he's kind of a lot to take." Ginger's voice on the other end of the phone came through calm and sweet, as she always was.

You spun your chair to lean back and stare up at the ceiling of your office, trying to keep tears from forming. "Ugh, he's such a colossal jackass. I cannot believe he tried to undermine me like that in the meeting. I could have strangled him!"

"Just stay out of his way as much as you can. I'm sure he'll calm down once he sees what kind of work your team produces. You're doing great."

"Yeah, well... not so great actually. It turns out he was right. There was a report on a facility that came through very late on Friday, and one of my analysts went home sick, so I didn't get it in time for the meeting. That's the worst part: he was right, the bastard."

"Oh, Paloma. I'm so sorry. I'm sure that stung."

You let out a deep sigh. "I'll be okay. I just hope I get the chance to catch him making a mistake, and then I'll shove it in his stupid face. Make him lap it up with that ridiculous mustache of his."

Ginger giggled. "As much as I'd like to imagine that with you, I gotta run. Call me later? I miss you!"

"I miss you, too. 'Bye."

You hung up and spun your chair around, coming face to face with the sight of Agent Whiskey leaning in your office doorway. His arms were crossed casually, one foot propped over the other, looking like he could stand there all day. Your stomach leapt into your throat and then dropped down to your shoes. How much had he heard?

"Oh, kill me now," you breathed.

"Not just yet, darlin’. We have work to do." He popped up from his perch in the doorway and took a seat in one of your visitors chairs.

"How can I help you?" You kept your tone respectful, although it verged on frosty.

"Well, we need to revise the mission plan to include the new intelligence. Then we need to have a talk about civility."

You arched an eyebrow. "Oh, civility? I see. What kind of ‘civility’ did you have in mind, Agent Whiskey?"

"Well, for one, you can call me Jack. And for two, I was comin’ down here to apologize again, but apparently there's something you'd like to shove in my face and have me lap up with my ridiculous mustache?" He twitched one eyebrow up, looking smug and amused by the double entendre.

You closed your eyes and suppressed a groan. Maybe this was a hallucination and you were still in bed at home. Or maybe you hadn't actually left Louisville. You cracked one eyelid open, finding Whiskey’s deep brown eyes still on you. You decided to try to be the bigger person and smooth things over.

"I'm sorry. I was venting to a friend, and obviously that wasn't intended for your ears."

"Well now, I’m a big boy. I've heard worse and survived."

"I apologize. I let myself get irritated by your behavior in the meeting. It wasn't professional, and it won't happen again."

"Well, for my part, if I think you've made an error, I'll be sure to talk with you privately instead of calling you out in front of the team. Deal?" He stuck one broad, well-manicured hand out to shake.

You reached your own out somewhat reluctantly, then warmed to it, feeling how large and soft his hand was when it wrapped around your fingers. "Deal."

He gave your hand one final squeeze. An involuntary tingle ran up your arm, and you found yourself wondering whether he was as talented with his hands as he was smart with his mouth. Oh god, what was wrong with you?

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, trying not to jerk it back like he’d burned you.

“I’ll, um, I’ll have my team revise the mission plan to include the new intelligence, and then we’ll reconvene tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Sounds fine, darlin’.” He winked at you and you felt something flutter just below your navel.

---

Despite the conciliatory conversation with Whiskey, you still felt awkward and hurt, not to mention confused by some of the warmer feelings that had popped up uninvited. You spent the next six weeks trying to fly low and avoid Whiskey. You sent your senior analyst as your replacement for every meeting that you possibly could, and when you did have to attend them you timed your entrances and exits so that you wouldn't be in the conference room any longer than necessary. You transferred reports to Whiskey's office electronically, and when a hand-delivery was required you sent whoever happened to be closest to you. It worked great. You hadn't said more than "hello" and "goodbye" to Whiskey in so long, you were starting to feel like maybe you had escaped the awkwardness, the horrific start to your time in New York. It felt like a bad dream from another era.

One late Thursday afternoon, your plan fell apart. You got a request from Whiskey's assistant for a hard-copy file, and the entire office suite was empty. Each of your team members was off doing other things or had left early. You avoided it as long as you could, running to the ladies room to pee and then lingering in the hallway outside your office, just in case someone from your staff came back. After 10 long minutes you realized that you were "it" and that nobody was going to come save you. You sighed and trudged to the elevator. It seemed to move too quickly, depositing you at Whiskey's floor in no time flat.

As you rounded the corner you saw that Whiskey's assistant was gathering her things to leave for the day. After one too many disasters with "pretty young things," Champ had put his foot down and assigned someone to Whiskey who would keep him on the straight and narrow. Mary was what you called a "motherly hard-ass," while Ginger called her a “saint.” Mary had worked for Statesman almost as long as Champ, and she knew her stuff inside and out. Most importantly, she was completely immune to Whiskey's flirtations. He had tried once or twice to charm her, but after finding that her warm exterior concealed a brick wall of professionalism and a razor-sharp wit, he had relented.

"Hi Mary!" You kept your voice cheerful and light, trying to hide the twisting in your gut. "Here's the file he requested."

"Hi Paloma, you can go on in." Mary smiled wryly, "He actually asked to see you if you showed up. Sorry, kiddo, you're a lamb to the slaughter." She patted your back in sympathy.

Your shoulders slumped, "Ugh." Just as you were about to air your disgust in stronger words, Whiskey's door opened.

"Paloma! Glad to see you, darlin'. Come on in."

You shot Mary one last look, pleading for reprieve. She patted your shoulder and bid Whiskey a good night.

You forced your legs to move, and when you got inside Whiskey's office you perched on the edge of the sofa in the visitors area. Whiskey preferred to entertain visitors away from his desk, so he had a cozy corner of the office set up with two large chairs, a coffee table, and a black leather sofa that seemed to take up half the room.

You tossed the file on the table and spoke in a monotone that bordered on rude. "Brought you the file. Need anything else?"

Whiskey gestured to the bar cart. "Can I get you a drink, darlin'?"

"No." You shook your head. "But thank you."

Whiskey shrugged and poured himself something amber in a small glass. You couldn't take your eyes off his hands as they deftly maneuvered around the glassware and ice bucket. They reminded you a little of Frankie's hands: strong and thick, sure and precise in their movements. But where Frankie's hands were warm, work-worn and calloused, Whiskey's were primped and clean, just as manicured as his sharply tailored suits and slick mustache. You bit the inside of your lip to bring yourself back to reality before your brain could wander any farther down the path of what Whiskey's hands could do.

You focused your gaze on the file on the coffee table and waited. Whiskey settled himself into the big chair closest to your end of the couch.

"Paloma, darlin'. Thanks for coming up."

You cringed internally and tried to screw up the courage to ask him to just call you Paloma. The nickname of "darlin'" was starting to grate. For a moment you weren't sure if it was because you found it unprofessional or because you wanted to hear it more. Shit. What was wrong with you?

"What can I do for you, Agent Whiskey?"

"Please, call me Jack."

"What can I do for you?" You refused to give in, drawing your mental line in the sand. You could have a whole conversation with him without calling him Jack, couldn't you?

"Well now, I was hoping we could finally chat a bit - outside of a meeting, that is. You've been here almost two months and I'm sorry that I haven't taken the time to get to know you better." He winked.

You suppressed an eye roll and pursed your lips. "What would you like to know?"

You weren't going to make this easy for him, you decided. If he wanted information beyond your resume, or even a friendly conversation, he would have to work for it. You weren't simply going to open up like a flower under the sunshine of his charm.

"Well, I understand you're from Louisville. Beautiful place." He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to close the space between you.

"Yes." You scooted all the way to the back of the sofa and crossed your arms, somewhat amused at the difficulty you were giving him. He hadn't expressed any displeasure yet, but you were certain that he was going to get frustrated sooner or later.

"Well, darlin' I had no idea that we were growin' them so smart down there, not to mention so pretty. If I'd known, I would have lured you up here to the big city a lot sooner." He looked like he was about to wink again, or try to devour you.

"Is that so?" God, he was really buttering you up, wasn't he? You crossed one leg over the other, keeping your arms crossed over your chest for good measure.

"Yes, it is. I was awfully impressed by your analysis on the Rex Smith case ‘bout a year ago. I had no clue there were that many shell companies in the mix. I would've thought three, maybe four, tops. But you found thirteen!"

Your jaw dropped a little at that. Not only had he seen your work on your first case as Assistant Director in Louisville, but he had reviewed the case file thoroughly, remembered such a tiny detail, and was also giving you credit? You were starting to think that you had underestimated Agent Whiskey. His charm and sass were legendary, but you now realized that those traits didn’t indicate anything missing in the brains department.

He smirked at your reaction and teased you gently. "Better watch that mouth, darlin'. You're liable to catch a few flies if you don't close it."

Goddamn him. You closed your mouth and tried not to sulk. You didn't like making mistakes, especially not such idiotic ones. If you weren't careful, he was going to knock you on your ass.

"Can I get you that drink now, darlin'?"

"No, thank you. I need to get going." You uncrossed your legs and stood up. Whiskey stood at the same time, and you found yourself entirely too close to him, your bodies just inches apart as you tried to negotiate your exit from the seating area. Something warm that smelled like cedar and smoky bourbon was emanating off of him, and you were certain it was from the expensive side of the cologne department. His coffee-brown eyes held yours, and you caught yourself staring at him while your brain sent you panicky messages to, “Move! Speak! Leave!”

Whiskey let the moment hang, seeming to enjoy every second that passed like torture for you. His eyes were twinkling so hard you thought you saw sparks. You heard yourself exhale a breath that was far more shaky than you would have preferred. He put his hand out to shake yours, and you found yourself imagining what would happen if you bypassed the polite gesture and wrapped your arms and legs around him, knocked him to the floor and kissed that stupid mustache right off his face.

Instead, you reached out to shake his hand and accidentally brushed the front of his hip, just an inch from his crotch.

"Oh my GOD! That was an accident. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" You scrunched your eyes closed and buried your face in your hands. Mortification consumed you as you heard Whiskey guffaw. You felt like you were going to die of embarrassment, and you were pissed off that it wasn't a real possibility. Death would have been extremely welcome.

Whiskey put his hands on your shoulders and squeezed. His laughter died down to a soft wheeze. "Hey, look at me."

You dared a glance through your fingers. His eyes twinkled and his white teeth still showed in a wide smile. "I'm sorry I laughed, I know it was an accident. You weren't trying to take advantage."

You moaned and Whiskey chuckled again. "It's alright, darlin'. You didn't break anything."

“Argh! I’m so sorry. That’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t think anything of it.” He pulled you gently toward him, and you did something you never imagined possible: you let him wrap you into a hug.

“I’ll forget it if you will, darlin’.” His deep voice rumbled against your body and you felt yourself melting a little. Tears of embarrassment pricked at your eyes.

You sniffed and pulled back. Whiskey let you go, but kept one hand on your elbow. He looked at you warmly and smiled. “Really, darlin’. Don’t think anything of it.”

You found yourself staring into his dark brown eyes, warm and shiny with humor. The mood shifted almost imperceptibly, turning him magnetic. Something in you snapped and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

Whiskey hummed a surprised noise against your lips for a moment, then opened his mouth to let you in. His mustache was softer than it looked, and hardly tickled at all as you wrestled each other for satisfaction. You found yourself tumbling down to the couch. Whiskey lay over you with one strong arm wrapped around your lower back, keeping you pressed close against him. His lips and tongue were eager and searching, and you responded in kind, nibbling his plush lower lip and flicking your tongue across the back of his top teeth. The taste of his liquor intermingled with the scent of his cologne, and it sent your senses reeling. He tasted and smelled and felt so good, and you wanted to stay there and drink him in forever.

Your lips parted from Whiskey’s and you took a gulp of air, looking into his brown-black eyes above you. The inrush of oxygen kicked your brain into gear and you felt cold; both from the absence of Whiskey's mouth on yours and from the dose of harsh reality that washed over you. This was wrong... wasn't it? As good as it felt, it wasn't right to make out with the boss in his office, after hours, on a couch for God's sake. What the hell were you thinking?

"Oh, shit!" You shoved Whiskey's shoulders up and away, rolling him toward the back of the couch as you slithered out from underneath him. You landed on the floor, then crouched and stood up. Whiskey shifted on the sofa, turning to lay face up on the plush leather and folding his arms behind his head. His grin hovered somewhere between 'Cheshire cat' and 'kid let loose in a candy store.' You groaned at the sight while irritation and the desire to flop back down on top of him fought equally within you.

"Well now, darlin'. You need to be off somewhere?"

"Yes. This was not a good idea." You waved your hands in front of you as if you were trying to erase a blackboard. "I think I need to leave."

"Feel free to come back anytime, darlin'. I'll be right here."

You took three swift steps toward the door and then spun to face him. "I need you to stop calling me 'darlin''. My name here is Paloma."

He cocked one eyebrow at you as you continued. "And another thing, Agent Whiskey: this never happened."

Before he could respond you yanked his office door open and jogged to the elevator. What the hell was wrong with you?

---

"Ginger, you have got to help me. I don't know what's wrong with me." You shuddered out a breath as you kicked your shoes off and sat down at your kitchen table. At your elbow was the biggest drink you could pour without causing a hangover.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

You gulped. "I kissed him."

"What?! Why?"

"I don't know! I just... I was in his office and he was standing really close to me and then I went to go shake his hand but I accidentally touched his crotch and..." you trailed off as Ginger laughed. "It's not funny, it's embarrassing!"

She giggled at you. "That sounds kind of funny. You'll laugh about it later."

"I won't. I wanted to die of embarrassment, but then he was so nice about it and he was looking at me softly and I just- I kissed him! What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Try not to worry too much. You're not the first lady to make that mistake and you won't be the last. He'll forget about you as soon as someone else catches his eye.”

"Yeah, I know." You weren't sure if being one in a long string of women made you feel better or worse.

"… although it does seem like you have a ‘type’ now.”

“What?!”

“Well he is tall, dark, and handsome. If he weren’t such a jackass I’d say he reminds me of Frankie.”

“Oh, hell no. That is not a fair comparison. They’re nothing alike.”

“You’re right, Frankie was a gem. Listen, just avoid Whiskey and keep your eyes on your work. He'll forget about you and it'll be like it never happened. And as irritating as he is, I know he's not a gossip. Don't worry, this won't get around."

You threw back your head and let out a long breath. "Okay. You're right. All I have to do is my job."

"That's right. And you're really good at your job, Pal. Don't let this derail you, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Gin. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to tell you that I’ll be coming to New York next week. I have to do some training with, uh, a consultant. And when I’m done we can have a girl’s dinner out, okay? Just try to have a good weekend."

"Thanks, I will. You too."

You sighed and finished your drink. The idea of calling in sick tomorrow floated up, and you seriously considered it. But you had already spent six weeks avoiding Whiskey, and your integrity wouldn’t let you call out without a good reason. You could make it one day until the weekend, right?

---

You awoke Friday morning with a pounding headache and a cotton-dry mouth. You were dreading going to work, but duty called. You showered and dressed as slow as you dared, and found yourself dragging into the office only 15 minutes late. Fortunately, there was enough work to keep you distracted, and at your 10:00 department heads meeting you found out that Whiskey was out of the office for the day. Relief washed over you, and you suddenly felt lighter. You could survive until the weekend without worrying.

The rest of your day was uneventful until around 4:00, when an assistant brought you a vase of fresh flowers that had been delivered to reception. You frowned and looked for a card. The arrangement was beautiful, featuring dark yellow daisy-shaped flowers with fuzzy chocolate brown centers, and pinky-purple blooms shaped like bottle brushes. Both types looked oddly familiar. You leaned closer to examine them as your brain twisted in confusion. Were those...? No way... orange coneflowers and dense blazing stars? Who the heck would send you an arrangement of Kentucky wildflowers? Mom? It wasn't your birthday yet.

You felt an icy ball of lead punch you in the stomach as you opened the notecard: "Even though nothing happened, I had a hell of a time. Hope to see you again. -Jack"

That motherfucker.

Just as you were about to sweep the flowers into the trash, there was a heavy knock on your doorway. You looked up, and your emotions spun from anger to elation so fast you almost threw up. Frankie stood in your doorway, looking soft and rumpled in a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his sweet curls escaping the same well-loved baseball cap he always wore.

"Frankie!?" You leapt out of your chair and practically ran to him. He swept you up in a bear hug and pulled you six inches off the ground. "Oh my God, Frankie, I'm so glad to see you!"

"Hey, Paloma. I missed you. How's the big promotion? They make you head of the New York office yet?" His deep voice rumbled into your ear softly, and you laughed with joy. You never wanted to let go.

Frankie set you down and broke the embrace, and you immediately grabbed his hand and guided him to one of your visitors chairs. You took a seat in the chair next to him, turning it to face him and get as close as you dared without looking too desperate.

"Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm doing a quick consulting job for Statesman, helping Ginger train a few folks for an extraction. I have to work on the project Monday and Tuesday, and then I'll be in town until Saturday as a tourist. I took the whole week off, so I don't need to be back in Florida until next Sunday." He smiled broadly at you.

You felt your own face split into a wide grin. "Do you need a tour guide? I've been here two whole months. I can show you my favorite coffee shop and we could go to a few museums."

He smiled warmly back at you, and you felt like you had been wrapped in the world's softest blanket. "I'd like that. Statesman gave me an apartment for the week. Should be close by, if you don't mind showing me where it is?" He pulled a slip of paper out of his wallet and read the address.

You threw your head back and cackled.

"What's so funny?"

"That's my apartment! Statesman owns a few units in the same building." You grabbed the piece of paper from his hand to read the apartment number. "You're literally one floor below me for the week."

He grinned. "Well, shit. If I'd known that, I would’ve just told them to let me bunk with you."

You frowned and handed the paper back. "Wouldn't your girlfriend be upset with that?"

Frankie looked down at his shoes. "She's, uh, not my girlfriend anymore. We broke up."

"Oh, Catfish. I'm so sorry." You reached out to squeeze his forearm, and the feel of his warm skin over ropey muscles made you tingle. You vividly remembered how much you used to love grabbing those forearms as he pounded into you, how good they felt wrapped around you in the shower, how strong and safe Frankie felt at all times. You pulled your hand back and cleared your throat.

Frankie stood. "Listen, I gotta take care of a few things this afternoon, but can we go to dinner later? Nothing fancy, if you know anyplace I can go dressed like this," he gestured to his worn jeans and work boots.

"Unless, uh,” he pointed to the flowers on your desk. “Is there a boyfriend who would be mad if I took you out?"

You stood and smiled, biting your lip. "No. There’s no boyfriend, and I'd love to go to dinner. I'll come down to your apartment and pick you up at 7:00? 7:30?"

"Seven is perfect." He hugged you, and the smell of him spun you right back to Louisville. Frankie smelled like clean cotton and hard work, with a faint whiff of mechanic's grease just under the scent of his laundry soap and Old Spice deodorant. You used to tease Frankie about his habit of buying the same deodorant that he’d been using since junior high, but he always swatted you away with a, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Now the scent of it made you want to buy every package in the world and always have the smell around you.

When you broke the embrace it was so hard to let go, to not lean in for a kiss like you used to. He seemed to feel it, too, lingering just a moment longer with his arms wrapped around you and smiling wistfully as you finally pulled apart. You wanted to stay in his arms for hours, maybe even stow away on his flight back to Florida.

“I’ll see you at seven, Paloma.”

You felt your goofy grin reappear. “Okay. I’m so glad you’re here, Catfish.”

---

The hours until dinner crawled, and you spent more time than you thought wise trying to get ready. You showered and put on your nicest outfit, which was really just the all-black, most-recently-purchased version of your normal work clothes. Your job at Statesman didn’t call for anything very dressy, so you hadn’t expanded your wardrobe beyond work staples. Still, you spent entirely too long arranging your hair, sweeping it one way and then the other, trying to figure out what jewelry to wear, and then changing your hair again for the third time. You were contemplating another shoe change when your phone alarm went off, warning you that it was five minutes to 7:00. Oh, well, too late to change anything now. You brushed your teeth frantically and hoped Frankie wouldn’t care.

You floated down the stairwell and found yourself grinning idiotically as you rapped at Frankie’s door. He opened it looking exactly the same as he had at 4:00 that afternoon, and you chastised yourself internally for trying to dress up. Your irritation turned to pride, however, when Frankie looked you up and down with a low whistle.

“Jeez, Paloma, you look fantastic. Should I change?” He looked worried.

“No, you look fine! We’re not going anywhere fancy, I promise. I don’t know why I changed clothes, it was silly.”

“No, you look amazing.” He opened his arms for a hug. You felt warmth rush to your face as you leaned in. Frankie was always so eager to please and to compliment you, to make you feel good. You had missed him so much.

The walk to dinner was easy, conversation bouncing between the two of you as you made your way to the restaurant. Frankie filled you in on everything going on in Florida, about his friends and his parents and his job. You spoke enthusiastically about your new position and how much you loved New York. You decided not to share information about either one of your run-ins with Agent Whiskey.

Dinner passed in a swirl of giggles and wine and good food. Frankie made you laugh so hard you almost choked twice, and before you knew it, nearly three hours had passed.

“Frankie, I think the restaurant is going to kick us out if we don’t scoot soon. Do you want to go walk around a little bit?”

He drained his water glass and nodded. “Yeah, where to?”

“We can window shop down the street, and there’s a cute little park nearby.” You arched one eyebrow at him, “Wanna go play on the swings?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, let’s do that.”

You fought Frankie for the bill before letting him win. “Okay, but the next one is on me, Catfish.”

When you emerged into the summer night, you both took a deep breath, trying to clear your heads of the alcohol haze. You weren’t drunk, just pleasantly buzzed and a little silly. Without thinking, you tucked your arm into Frankie’s and snuggled yourself against him as you wandered along. Store windows were lit up against the dark, and you stopped here and there to look and giggle at displays.

You paused in front of an antique store. The window behind the bars was lined in red velvet, and on each of the little red display pillows sat a piece of vintage jewelry.

You were quietly gazing at an enamel bracelet and a sparkly tiara when Frankie’s voice broke the silence.

“You ever want one of those?”

“A tiara? No. I mean, it might be fun for a hot bubble bath, but I can’t exactly wear it to work.”

“No,” he nudged your arm and tilted his chin toward the far left side of the store window. “An engagement ring.”

You froze and suddenly couldn’t breathe. Your eyes shifted to a sparkly, square-cut sapphire ring sitting on the smallest pillow. You couldn’t form rational thoughts, and you weren’t sure exactly what kind of answer Frankie was expecting.

“I mean- uh, I guess I never thought about it. I haven’t seen anyone since we-” you swallowed hard. “I’ve been single since we broke up.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, and when he didn’t respond right away you found yourself filling the silence with nervous chatter. “I mean, I tried dating but it never went past a second date, and I don’t know anyone who would propose that early, and anyway I just- I mean I didn’t think- and you left so I didn’t…” you trailed off, realizing that you weren’t making any sense.

Frankie’s voice was low and serious. “I thought about it.”

That broke the spell and you turned to face him. “You thought about it? About me?”

He looked at you, almost shy. “Yeah, I thought about it a couple of months after we started dating. But with your job and my work, and… Well, you know what happened. You were there, same as I was.” He reached out a hand to cup your chin. “I was sorry it didn’t work out for us.”

You sighed and melted into him, “Oh, Frankie.”

He wrapped both arms around your shoulders as you gripped his waist. Your mouths found each other in the dark as if your last kiss had been yesterday. Frankie was warm and solid and familiar, and you found yourself aching to hang on to him, to keep him there with you for as long as you could.

You stood on the sidewalk together for what seemed like hours, exploring each other and passing silent messages back and forth with your lips and tongues and teeth. Slow swirls of the tip of his tongue around yours told you he missed you, and the tiny nips you bit against his bottom lip conveyed an urgency, a need that you couldn't express in words. You found your fingers entwined in his belt loops, pulling him as close as you could, mimicking the kind of connection that really required nakedness and absolute vulnerability together.

You turned sideways to loop your arm around his waist and walk unsteadily back to your apartment building, stealing kisses again and again as you strolled, then paused, then continued on your way. The trip took twice as long as it should have, but neither you nor Frankie was willing to break apart for longer than it took to step down off a curb or glance at a walk signal. You just kept kissing, drunk on each other and wanting more and more; silently cursing the fact that the apartment was still so far away, but reveling in the moments that you could seize right now to embrace each other as you walked.

When you reached your block, you murmured against Frankie’s mouth. “Do you have anything? I don’t have any protection at home.”

He cursed softly, “Shit. No, I didn’t bring…” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you kissed him again.

“Don’t worry, that’s why I asked. There’s a drugstore right here.”

“I always knew-” he kissed you softly, “... that you were smarter than me.”

You giggled against his mouth and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re the one who can fly helicopters. I just stare at data reports all day.”

You walked into the pharmacy holding hands and made it through the checkout line in record time, urgently kissing again when you reached the sidewalk, navigating the final dozen or so yards to your building.

The elevator ride consisted of one long kiss, broken only by Frankie’s urgent, “Mine or yours?” You murmured, “Mine,” and pressed the button for your floor, folding yourself back into his arms. You unlocked your front door while Frankie held you from behind and peppered kisses down your ear and cheek and jaw, distracting you as you fumbled with your keys. When you finally got the door open, you tumbled inside together and slammed the door shut.

Now that you were someplace private, you could undress, fumbling against one another as you struggled to open buttons and zippers and bra clasps in between kisses; to continue your soft caresses while you kicked shoes and pants off and away. Finally you were both standing, wearing only underwear while you continued to embrace. You pulled away from Frankie and picked up the box of condoms where it had dropped, then you took his hand and led him to your bedroom.

You tumbled onto the bed together and continued the makeout session that had started miles away and what seemed like an eternity ago in front of the antique store window. Frankie’s strokes along your ribcage and thighs were light and almost ticklish, so familiar that you wanted to cry. You had no expectations of getting back together and attempting a long-distance relationship, but he was here right now. And that was good, right? It was familiar and lovely and sweet.

Frankie hadn’t changed a bit since you parted 10 months ago, except for a few more grays in his beard and one or two more crinkles when he smiled. You ached and ached for him, even though he was right on top of you, kissing you and touching you and murmuring your name. Your brain kept raising the idea of what would happen in a week when he had to leave, or what might have happened a year ago if Statesman hadn’t demanded so much from both of you. The knowledge that you had missed becoming Frankie’s wife because of shitty circumstances, combined with the threat of losing him again in just a few days time punched you in the throat, and a sob escaped your lips as tears sprang to your eyes.

“What’s wrong, babe? Did I hurt you?” Frankie looked you over, rolling to one side to examine your face with a worried scowl. He propped himself up on one elbow and hovered over you.

“No, I’m just-” You sniffed back another sob. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and I’m so glad you’re here. It’s just a lot, that’s all.”

He brushed a tear from your cheek. “We don’t have to do this right now; not if you don’t want to. I didn’t come here with the expectation that you would jump back into bed with me.”

Your heart leapt at that. Same old sweet Frankie, doing everything he could to treat you tenderly, to care for you. You knew that if you tried to explain everything you were feeling, he would probably take it personally. Frankie hated to see you hurting, and doubly so if he thought he was the one who had caused it.

“I might just need a minute. I’m okay, I promise. It’s just been a weird week.”

You decided to joke, to lighten the mood and try to ease Frankie’s worry. “My old boyfriend is back in town, and I just found out that I missed out on him being my husband, and I also kind of kissed my boss yesterday, so I’m not in a real ‘steady’ place right now.”

Frankie frowned at that. “You kissed Bill?”

“Oh, no! No, not my boss-boss.” You paused, unsure of whether or not Frankie would hate you for your next words. “I kissed Agent Whiskey.”

Frankie’s eyebrows nearly leapt off his forehead, but he didn’t sit up or let go of you. He didn’t run out of the room screaming. “Is there something I should know?”

“It was a mistake. I was in his office and I accidentally touched his crotch-” Frankie’s eyebrows raised another impossible inch as you continued, “Truly an accident, a horrible, embarrassing accident. And then I think I just felt really vulnerable and lonely and I kissed him.”

Frankie nodded. “It happens, I guess.” He looked at you tenderly. “Although I’ve never kissed my boss. He always has food in his beard.” You erupted in giggles and tucked your face against Frankie’s chest. He stroked your arm and shoulder, laughing against your hair.

Your giggles subsided, and you rolled away from Frankie, laying on your stomach and folding your arms under your chin. You sighed and turned your face to him. “I am glad you’re here, though. I really missed you.” You paused, trying to formulate your next words.

“It took me a long time to get over you, and I’m honestly not sure I ever did. If we hadn’t both had so much work and conflicting schedules, if things had been different-” Frankie leaned over and cut you off with a soft kiss.

“You don’t have to tell me how things could have been different.” He stroked your temple. “After we broke up I just couldn’t handle working around you. I didn’t hate you, I just had to leave. It hurt too much to stay.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“No, don’t apologize. It wasn’t you, it wasn’t me, it was just life.” Frankie leaned over and kissed your cheek, stroking your back with feather-light touches, raising goosebumps as silence settled over the both of you.

His touch felt amazing, conjuring electricity where his fingers met your skin. Tingles started to form in your pelvis and you found your breath shuddering in time with Frankie’s caresses. You sat up and moved to straddle him, entwining your fingers with his and pinning his hands to the bed next to his ears.

Neither one of you spoke as you rolled your hips gently on his and stole kiss after kiss, feeling his erection grow and press harder against your vulva, still separated by the fabric of both your underwear and his. Finally you broke your grip on his hands and Frankie reached up to cup your breasts. You arched your back to press yourself into his palms, and your nipples stiffened with the friction and the heat of his touch. You grabbed the backs of his hands and pressed them harder against you, as if you could multiply the sensations that were zipping through your body.

You leaned down for another kiss and then swung your leg off and over him. You stood next to the bed and pulled your panties off, then reached over Frankie to grip his waistband. He lifted his hips to assist you, and when his cock sprung free you nearly gasped at how much you missed him and missed this, the intimacy and the raw electricity and the closeness. You reached out to stroke his length a few times, running the pad of your thumb gently up the underside and over his slit. He was damp there, but not leaking yet, and you let go only to grab the box of condoms and rip it open.

“Here,” you handed him a foil packet and let him put it on. When he was covered you gripped him again and gave him three firm, slow pumps, pulling a moan out of the deepest part of his chest. You straddled him again and hovered over him, making eye contact as you lined up to insert him, taking him into the most intimate part of you. He stroked one large hand from your knee to your ass, then cupped both cheeks and pulled you slightly apart to help guide him in. You closed your eyes and let out a soft hiss as he entered. Everything felt so good and familiar, like no time had passed at all, like he had never left.

When you were fully seated on him, you placed your palms on his shoulders for leverage, watching with delight as the tendons in his neck flexed and his Adam’s apple bobbed, veins throbbing on either side of his beautiful throat as you rode him. He reached one hand down to thumb your clit, pressing and petting it and drawing whimpers from you as the pleasure swelled within you. Neither one of you spoke as you gazed into each other, moving together in a practiced rhythm, increasing the pace and the tempo and the force until you were shaking the whole bed. Then your head spun and you found yourself crying out his name as you climaxed around him. You slumped over him and buried your face in his neck, that gorgeous soft crook between his throat and his shoulder. He braced his feet and thrust up into you. Chills wracked your body as you squeezed and fluttered around his cock. He grunted and clenched his jaw, “I’m coming.” And then he pulled you closer and froze, holding you there as he filled the condom. When he relaxed his thighs and arms, you reached down and gripped the base of the condom to keep it on him as you rolled sideways and off.

You both lay staring at the ceiling, recovering your breath, trying to remember where you were and why anything outside of your shared pleasure mattered.

---

Frankie stayed at your apartment all weekend. The two of you kissed and caressed, showered and fucked, made breakfasts and dinners, watched movies and slept curled together, until you almost forgot how much you had missed each other, almost forgot the fact that he would have to leave.

On Monday you and Frankie walked to the office together and kissed at the front desk, parting ways for the day. You ran into Ginger in the hallway and squealed and gave her a hug. She smiled at you and wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you see who our consultant is for this project?”

“Yes! He came by my office on Friday and we went to dinner.” You leaned over to lower your voice and murmur, “And we spent all weekend together.”

Ginger laughed and you grinned and rolled your eyes. “It’s nice. I don’t know if we’re ‘back together’ or anything, but I’ll have fun hanging out with him while he’s here.”

Ginger bit her lip, “I’m glad. I know you guys really missed each other, but I’m happy you can see him while he’s here.”

“Me, too.”

You and Ginger made plans to have lunch together that afternoon, and your mood was light as you entered your office. It dampened a bit when you saw the flowers from Whiskey that were still sitting there. And it dropped further when you saw a note from one of your staff saying that Whiskey had requested that you come see him when you arrived this morning. You decided that you would just have to treat him like nothing had happened, and keep your head up. After all, you were on cloud nine with Frankie in town, so what’s the worst that could happen?

You found Mary’s desk empty, so you squared your shoulders and knocked on Whiskey’s door. He could try to irritate you all he wanted, but you were going to be cool as a cucumber.

When he opened the door, Whiskey grinned at you and motioned you in. You opted to stand next to his desk with your arms crossed. If this was business, you would keep it businesslike. He walked up to you and raised an eyebrow, still grinning like a fool.

You looked at him and frowned. What was his deal?

He started the conversation cryptically, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did you get my flowers?”

You opted for the driest tone you could, “Yes. Thank you.”

He nodded, “Good. Listen, darlin’-”

You interrupted him. “Paloma.”

“Right, Paloma. I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime and apologize again for behaving like a jackass in that meeting a few weeks back.” He placed both of his large, warm hands on your arms and squeezed. “If we could see our way clear to some kind of understanding, I think I’d like it very much if we could-” a knock on his door cut him off.

Mary opened it and stuck her head in. “Agent Whiskey? I have the consultant here for your 9:00 meeting.”

Whiskey hissed out a breath and sounded disappointed. “Right.”

You pounced on the opportunity to escape. “I’ll just get going.”

Mary opened the door all the way and Frankie walked halfway in, freezing at the sight of you and Whiskey standing so close together. Guilt creeped up, even though you had no reason to feel that way, and you fought the urge to apologize to Frankie.

You and Agent Whiskey spoke at the same time, words jumbling together as Frankie approached to shake hands with Whiskey.

“Hi, Agent Whiskey. You can call me Ja-”

“Frankie, hi. I was just-”

“Oh, do you two already know-”

“We used to-”

You found yourself standing next to them as they shook hands and sized each other up. Your own discomfort was so strong that you almost didn’t notice that they were jostling each other as if they were fighting for dominance. A strange energy settled over the three of you as they stared at each other. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said it felt like they were fighting over you.

“Whiskey, this is Frankie Morales. He and I used to work-” Frankie cut you off, something he normally would never do, and his next words mortified you.

“Paloma and I used to date when we worked together in Louisville.”

You groaned. You weren’t embarrassed that you had dated Frankie, but the less information Whiskey had about your personal life, the better.

“Is that so? Well, I didn’t know that.” Whiskey’s voice was as smooth as the leather on his couch, and he cocked an eyebrow at you. Instead of irritating you, it had the effect of sending a flutter to your crotch. You gulped, hard.

Whiskey turned back to Frankie. “Any big plans while you’re here in New York?”

“Paloma and I are going out.”

“We’re what?” Your voice was louder than you had meant it to be and both men turned to look at you. You felt stunned by the double gaze, the two pairs of dark brown eyes, the strong noses and lovely mouths; features so similar to one another now that you saw them together. Maybe Ginger was right, maybe you did have a “type.”

Your brain did a somersault, throwing up the most shocking and simultaneously wonderful idea, and you wished you could banish the thought back to whatever delicious hellhole it had sprung from. You almost burst into tears, thinking that the stress of your job had finally broken your brain. Under normal circumstances, the idea and all of its implications would have been curious, but under the current circumstances it was absolutely ridiculous. The absurd, impossible word had popped into your head entirely uninvited: “Threesome.”

Frankie and Whiskey stared at you for three long, agonizing seconds, then they both spoke the same word at the same time.

“WHAT?”

“Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud?” ---

"Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: (Please message me if you're on here and don't want to be!)

@honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #Statesman!Frankie Morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels

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war--lords · 4 years

Text

sorry i’ve been gone for so long i have a full-time job and other hobbies that i am deeply obsessed with... here have some fluff

Female pronouns for Reader

Fact one: In the past three days, Nobunaga can’t find you in the places you frequent around the castle, and at the end of the day, finds the tenshu empty. By dusk you are usually in his room, but these nights he finds you coming back after him. “Oh, just taking care of some stuff,” you would say.

Fact two: He misses you.

Perhaps it isn’t in his character to admit that so openly to you, what with his moniker being the “Devil King” and all, but he knows you know better—honesty has always been a key in your relationship, and it was the fact that he knew you were from 500 years in the future that drew him closer to you. Yes, he’ll tell you he misses you, but not before dealing out the proper punishment for failing to pay attention to him.

(Maybe he’s not being entirely honest after all, because he calls it punishment even when the both of you enjoy it. And as much as you’d squirm and reprimand him for teasing you so...)

Enough, he chides himself mentally. The lack of quality time with you has driven his mind to rely on fantasy, but that needs to change today. Today, he declares independence from the stack of paperwork on his desk and dedicates his working hours to looking for you—within the castle grounds or in town, if he must. He can already hear Hideyoshi scolding him at the back of his mind and scoffs.

As if that could stop him.

Nobunaga’s first stop is the hall where the seamstresses usually work.

“She left but moments ago, my lord,” says one of the elderly, working to get her thread in the eye of the needle. “To the kitchen, said she needed help to procure some food items.”

“Speaking of, she did the same yesterday. And the day before, if I remember correctly,” another seamstress chimes in. “And it’s around this time too.”

“I wonder if she’s also helping out there. Our lady has always been so eager to assist!”

Thanking the ladies for the information, Nobunaga exits the hall to make his way to the kitchen, leaving the staff giggling and cooing at how sweet the two of them are together.

At an hour so close to lunch, the castle kitchen is teeming with life. Nobunaga’s face is hit with the aromatic smells of various dishes—it seems they’re about to be served mushroom and meat stew, a season-appropriate dish—as well as smoke and the sounds of commanding voices and hurried footsteps carrying the orders out. A cooking battlefield.

Blue enters his peripheral and he turns to look at a corner. Masamune is taste-testing something out of an iron pot simmering atop a fire, offering some of his comments to the chef standing next to him before sprinkling in some other ingredients into the pot.

“Lord Nobunaga,” Masamune says, grinning at the Oda patriarch’s approach. The chef standing next to him looks surprised at the very least, echoing the greeting with a deep bow. Masamune swiftly swipes a sample of the brewing broth of a wooden spoon and offers it to him with a “careful, it’s hot”.

Nobunaga holds the spoon in his hand and sips, nodding his approval. “I was told I could find ___________ here.”

“The lass? Right, she was here.”

Nobunaga clicks his tongue at the use of past tense.

“Was she helping out with lunch preparations?”

Masamune shakes his head, adding what seems to be a pinch more salt into the pot. “Asked for some leftovers, actually—last night’s steamed fish. Put it in a neat little box and was gone as quickly as she arrived.”

“She asked for her food to be packed, as well.” The chef next to Masamune supplies.

Was she going somewhere? Nobunaga muses, deep in thought. His lover might be perplexing, but sharp as he is, he has some sort of clue as to what is happening.

“I see. Did anyone see which way she was heading?”

Another young man chopping up some scallions in his work station put his knife down and pointed to the right of the kitchen entrance. “To the garden thereabouts, perhaps, my lord,” he answers, before he dutifully goes back to his job.

“Thank you. In that case I shall have my food to go as well.”

“Right away, my lord!”

Masamune chuckles. “Didn’t know you guys like playing cat and mouse.”

Something clicks in Nobunaga’s mind. That had to be it.

“Yes, well, I didn’t know either,” comes his offhanded response, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

When he finally finds you, you are sitting under a maple tree in the freshly trimmed garden, the red of autumn forming a beautiful canopy above you. He sees a lacquered lunchbox in your hand, and in front of you, just at arm’s length, is another box...

...being devoured wholeheartedly by three kittens of varying coats.

“There you are,” he says as he approaches. You look startled for a split second, perhaps associating the gardens with a place that nobody ever frequents, before the expression melts into the very smile he’s smitten with.

“Nobunaga!” You look pleased with a tinge of confusion. “How rare of you to dine outside.”

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he confesses as he sits down next to you, not minding the grass on his kimono and haori, “and upon finding out that you’ve decided to eat out, I decided to join you.”

“I’m sorry, did you come look for me in the kitchen?”

“And the seamstresses’ hall before that.”

You look extremely apologetic he almost feels bad. He leans forward. You get the message and peck him on the lips.

“Sorry.”

“One more, and then you’re forgiven.”

“Mm, okay,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss, your lunchbox forgotten despite holding it in your hands. This one lasts longer, what with your lover’s hand at the back of your head, ordering you to stay, and when he swipes his tongue on your bottom lip you feel the beginnings of a moan bubbling at the top of your throat—oh, you’re in public—

He’s the first to pull away, a devious smirk on his face. “Your food will grow cold.”

Pouting, you begrudgingly start eating again.

“So this is where you’ve been the past few days?” He asks, unraveling the cloth that wraps his food container while staring at three fuzzy rumps an arm’s length away. The kittens, all of which are variants of white, orange, and black, look ravenous, not even caring that another person has entered the vicinity. He spots the remnants of steamed fish in the box.

“Yes,” you answer, all smiles as you look at the kittens, and then once more that expression morphs into a realization that you’ve been spending less time with him, which perfectly explains him seeking you out. “Oh, Nobu, I didn’t mean to.”

He begins eating his meal. “You could have told me.”

“Well, yes, but I felt like that would’ve finalized my attachment to them,” you say, finishing your meal (you started earlier, after all). “I’ve been watching them and waiting for their mother to perhaps come back, but it’s been three days...”

One of the kittens, the one with orange and black on the tips of its ears, comes hobbling at you with little legs, meowing in thanks. Your smile turns to a chuckle when it climbs into your lap, insistently pawing and leaning its head into your palm when you reach to pet it.

He watches as you pet it gently, the kitten seemingly wanting more scratches and strokes each time that you have to concede. A wry smile takes over his face as he continues with his meal. “Perhaps its mother left them here knowing they will be well cared for.”

You blink in surprise. “Nobunaga, are you saying we can—”

“No.”

“Why?” you whine.

“I’m smart enough not to invite any competition for your attention within my quarters.”

Understanding dawns upon you and you find your arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck repeatedly so as to not disturb his meal. The poor man... getting jealous over some kittens because you’ve been looking after them for the last few days. When you’ve administered the last kiss on his throat, hoping to appease him, you look up to see his eyes boring into yours, a planning smile on his face. You catch on, and smile back, hoping to look at least half as alluring as he.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Good,” he replies curtly. “When that happens... I’ll make sure it’ll be impossible for you to think about anything else.”

The incessant meowing, cute as they are, dissolves the sexual tension between the two of you, as another kitten makes its way bravely on top of Nobunaga’s calf, its beady eyes making it look like it’s pleading. Good sir? Have you come to feed us, too?

You see a softness in Nobunaga’s eyes that indicates he’s finally understood what you felt. The man uses his chopsticks to fish out a piece of meat and hovers it right in front of the kitten’s face, allowing the tiny feline to snatch it out of the utensil’s grasp and straight into its mouth.

“The staff will be informed of these little ones and help take care of them,” he declares, “of course you are free to do so as well.” Just don’t neglect me again, you can hear that last unspoken bit through the way he gazes at you. You smile at him gratefully and sigh, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. When else do you get to see Nobunaga acting all soft and playing with kittens?

Leaning forward again, you kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

He brushes your lip with his thumb and you suppress a shiver down your spine—now is hardly the time to think of that. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Shall we name them?”

(Haguro flies in the scene five minutes later, scaring the kittens initially, but it’s clear that much like his owner, he’s just jealous and wants some pets.)

#nobunaga #oda nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #ikemen sengoku #reader insert #scenario #imagine #imagines #ikesen #cybird #fluff #female reader #fem reader

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midnightseonghwa · 4 years

Text

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 | 𝐩.𝐬𝐡

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟐

✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Grim Reaper!Seonghwa x Living!Reader

✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Grim Reaper, Halloween Au

✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k+

✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: There’s nothing after death, or so they say. However, Seonghwa knows best and he’s determined to make you find out.

Alternatively: “Married couples always promise to love each other till death, but darling, I’ll show you love exists after death as well.”

✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of death, souls, grave yards, cemetaries, harassement/bullying and the afterlife. Seonghwa is holding a scythe to reap souls. There is some religious stuff as well. The people around you are really weird. You’re a living, breathing human at the beginning but not really at the end. The reader (you) are really weird. Some kissy kissy as well

✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited

✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction and that I don’t actually see ateez in this way. The religious stuff has not been put in to offend anyone. It is solely for fictional purposes. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! Also, this is inspired by OneUs’ song ‘To Be or Not To Be’. I am obsessed with their entire ‘Lived’ album...it’s a bit of a problem hehe

✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy

✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here

Seonghwa watched you trace the crude grey stone with your fingers in a sense of curiosity.

You were a young child, new to the world but there was something extremely odd about you. Seonghwa had seen you a few times already, running around the cemetery as if it was the playground, playing hide and seek with the ravens that would sometimes whisper beautifully morbid things to you.

Tracing the sharp blade of his scythe, the male sighed and lowered his black hood when a series of footsteps crunched through the dead grass of the burial grounds.

"A mere lost soul," Seonghwa said as the groundskeeper of the cemetery came to a standstill next to him.

"A bit young to be a lost," he said but Seonghwa shook his head and ran his bony fingers over the staff of his scythe.

"Young souls are often the easiest to lose. But they are also the easiest to guide," he said and gave the groundskeeper a side-eyed glance.

"Are you going to guide her?" The groundskeeper asked in a quiet voice and Seonghwa inhaled deeply before covering his face with his hood again and disappearing into the shadows.

"Only if I must."

The next place Seonghwa saw you was at the foot of your grandmother's bed a few years later, crying hysterically.

Black ink flowed down your cheeks, leaving scorching burns in their wake but to any normal human, it would look like the most heart-broken tears were being shed.

Next to Seonghwa, your grandmother pressed a hand to her heart. Although pain was not felt by deceased souls, the phantom pains of her only grandchild's cries were enough to provoke a physical feeling.

Both your grandmother and Seonghwa stayed, observing everything until it was only you left in the room.

Seonghwa approached you and wiped the inky streaks off your face with a gentle bony finger.

"Do not cry, child," he said and offered you a single black raven feather, smooth as the blade of his scythe.

"Angel," the word left your small lips as you marvelled at the man in front of you. A graceful being in front of a clumsy child like you, your brain could only muster the closest celestial being.

"No, child. But you can most definitely think of me as your guardian angel."

And with that, Seonghwa left you with an eternal promise and the mark of the grim reaper on your soul.

"So much for a guardian angel," you said as you twirled the black feather between your fingers. Now in your early adult ages, the feather had remained the only constant in your life.

Encased between thin glass sheets, the black feather gleamed under the sunlight as you leaned against one of the headstones in the cemetery.

"(Yn)? Here again?" The groundskeeper asked as he strolled by with his tools, his black cat in tow.

"Yes sir," you smiled and closed your eyes, letting your head fall onto the grey stone that was basking in the sunlight.

"I was going to wash the stones today but it seems I'll have to wait," he said and you smiled at the older man.

"Thank you, sir. You know I don't have anyone else but you."

The groundskeeper gave you a small wave before continuing on his way.

Sighing and tucking the black feather back into your pocket, you plucked at the yellow grass that always seemed to surround you wherever you went.

It was true that the groundskeeper was the only one you had. After the encounter with your "guardian angel", things had gone immensely wrong for you.

You started having nightmares and hearing voices that always called for help. The murmurs and cried pains of the damned that always seemed to haunt you on the darkest of nights. This eventually led to your family declaring you sick and moving away to a bigger city, leaving you behind.

You were harassed horribly during school which made you drop out and just stay inside your old house until midnight hit the skies. The old ladies of the town would gossip about your creepy aura and flash you with crosses and holy water while you would walk down the street.

Sometimes, just to mess with them you would hiss and try to cover yourself from the holy objects and inwardly laugh as the women scurried away to protect their children and husbands. On other days you would hide under the black hood of your jacket and ignore all the comments about being a disgrace to God and whatnot.

To say that your town was an orthodox one was an understatement.

But today was one of those rare nights where the voices didn't seem to bother you as much. The people of the town had been ignorant towards you and it was a blessing through and through. Lying in your deceased grandmother's room, you stared at the arcane carvings in her ceiling. Your grandmother always believed in the afterlife and that death was not as bad as people put it to be. It was always just a change of worlds but never a permanent one.

Your hand reached out to trace one of the gold lines in the air. You had spent your entire childhood memorising them as your grandmother would tell you stories of the world beyond but now, they seemed foreign to you, almost dead and lifeless.

"I remember seeing you here when you were only a little child," a smooth voice flittered across the cold room as you jerked awake and stood up to find the source of the voice.

"Even as a child, you were always so mysterious. I never expected you would grow up to be so beautiful," the voice sounded again and Seonghwa emerged from the shadows, bony fingers clutching his scythe.

He leaned down to your level and traced your jawline. His finger was chillingly cold and wasn't soft as skin would normally feel.

Silence blanketed the room as you shrank under his cold stare.

"Am I finally going to die?"

Admittedly, the question was stupid but voicing it lifted some weight off your chest.

"Why would you die?" Seonghwa quipped an eyebrow at you, a slow smirk making its way onto his face.

"You look like a grim reaper," you whispered and fidgeted under the tall male's gaze.

Seonghwa laughed, it was chilling in its nature and froze your bones.

"That's because I am."

Regardless of his cold stare and voice, his tone was nonchalant and careless, as if admitting to being the grim reaper wasn't the biggest thing in the world.

"Oh..." you trailed off, not quite sure how to react to that piece of information.

"What do you want with me?"

"That's..." Seonghwa sighed and leaned against his scythe with a bored expression.

"A good question," he said and furrowed his eyebrows.

"If you don't have any specific requests then please leave," you said and trudged to the bedroom door, opening it wide and letting the cold wind whistle through the room.

"Actually, I wanted to take you with me," Seonghwa said and leaned his fingers out to touch your hair. He twisted them around his fingers and smiled. It was a sweet smile, one filled with love and adoration, something you had not experienced from any human before.

But lucky for you, Seonghwa was not human.

"Take me where?" You asked and brought your hand up to curl your fingers around his wrist. His skin was strikingly pale against yours and while Seonghwa could feel the low thrum of your pulse, you couldn't feel a thing.

"To the spirit world of course," he said and booped your nose lightly in a childish manner.

For a grim reaper, he sure was soft with his movements.

"What if I don't want to go," you whispered and dropped your hand from around his wrist. Seonghwa's unbeating heart dropped a little at the lack of physical contact as he too uncurled your hair from around his fingers and then caressed your head gently.

"I suppose that's fair," he said but one look at your face and he knew you were just being cautious of stranger danger.

"Listen," he started and leaned down, dangerously close to your lips.

"Wha-what are you doing?" You asked and leaned your face away from his.

"Just let me show you," he said and leaned closer to you.

Hesitantly, you met his face halfway and pressed your lips to his.

If only your family could see you now, they would bury you ten feet underground.

His bony fingers let go of his scythe which vanished into thin air as he pulled your waist closer to his.

His lips were cold and yours felt numb to his touch. It was an insensitive feeling but as Seonghwa exhaled into your mouth, you felt a wisp of odd smoke travel past your lips.

It looked like unfurling ink in water as the wisps passed from his mouth to yours.

Stilling in his arms, your vision blurred and Seonghwa's face pixelated before it dissolved into the same black wisps of smoke and you found yourself as a child sitting in the living room with your family.

"I'm afraid (Y/n)'s brain is not developing properly," A voice rang in your ears as you watched little you play with blocks and your parents conversing with a man in a white coat.

"Oh, nonsense. (Y/n) is doing just fine," your grandmother butt in and ushered the man outside, your parents giving her a glare.

A smile made its way onto your lips as you watched the scene in front of you. Your grandmother always did have her way with you in the best ways possible.

"Mother, you don't understand. (Y/n)'s not normal," you heard your father coax but your grandmother just shushed him and handed you a cookie, which you gladly accepted before going back to play with your blocks.

You reached your hands out to touch your grandmother's delicate face but your vision distorted again and merged into you sitting at the cemetery while you were younger.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw a figure talking to the groundskeeper while looking at you. The figure was clad in a long black cloak and you only caught a glimpse of his glimmering scythe before he disappeared into the shadows.

The ink once again unfurled and revealed to you getting harassed in school. The girls pulling your hair as you walked past them in the corridor while calling you names and the boys tearing your books apart and beating you up in the school's basement.

You cried watching everything unwind. These were the memories you had kept suppressed for so long but seeing them again had just opened up unnecessary scars in your heart.

"(Y/n)," a bony hand reached out for you and brought you back to reality as Seonghwa's fingers wiped at the tears that were streaming down your face.

"Wh-wha-what was that?" You asked and touched your face, fingers pulling away to reveal obsidian ink staining your fingers.

"Why...what...why are my tears black?"

"What have you done?" You demanded with a bite in your voice this time.

Seonghwa sighed and brushed your hair out of your brush before wrapping you in a blanket.

"I simply showed you everything you've been through in the mortal world."

His words rang in your ear with high pitched noise, like a shrill cacophonic note being hit on the violin again and again.

"(Y/n)," Seonghwa said and leaned down to your level again.

"It doesn't have to be like this. How can you keep living in this pain?"

"Who said I've been living in pain?" You retorted and pushed your pointer finger into his chest that was covered with black robes.

"My darling, I've been observing you for so long and the pain you feel could bring some of the most tortured souls to their knees."

You gulped, the air not quite flowing down your throat properly. Your body felt constricted as if it was trapped in the physical peel you call your body.

"Let me show you," Seonghwa whispered and snapped his fingers.

The air around you changed and it was no longer cold. it was no longer filled with hate and bitterness but instead, there was a warmth. A warmth that seeped into your bones almost as if it was a mother's hug. Your mother had never hugged you like this, it brought tears into your eyes. As if it had encased you in its warm arms, refusing to let go.

Your core, the very centre of your being felt whole again and every little touch was like a loving caress instead of sharp recoil.

But the moment was a fleeting one. Gone almost as soon as you had touched it, crumbled to dust right in front of your very eyes.

"What was that?" Your voice was soft and deep down, your held hope. You wanted that feeling to be your home forever. Somewhere you could finally be everything you've ever wanted to be. If Seonghwa was the key to that, you were willing to take that chance.

"Just a mere glimpse of what your life could be with me. Imagine everything I could give you, how free would you be," he said and you found yourself wondering exactly that.

What could Seonghwa give you, what could he offer and how free would you feel?

Freer that anything you ever felt on Earth, that was for sure.

"What do you say, my darling?" Seonghwa had his bony hand stretched towards your face. He gently caressed your cheek with one finger and you realised how menial everything was in compared to this. It was yours for the taking, everything he could ever offer was written in the hand of his ivory white hand and all you have to do was feed from it.

"Is it better to be alive or not to be? The question is yours," he said and you watched as the scythe was back in his hand.

"Where are you going?" You said and stood up from where you were previously sitting.

"Well, my darling, there's only one grim reaper and millions of souls to guide," he said and approached you closely.

"When you need me, call me by my name and I'll be there, always in the shadows but I'll be there."

"What am I supposed to call? Reaper?" You scoffed and turned away from him. How could you give someone the disease only to give them the cure as well?

"Call me Seonghwa," he said and disappeared with a cold whistle, as sharp as the blade he always carried.

Your every day after that was filled with constant itching to escape. The voices never left you alone and would only get amplified in Seonghwa's absence.

On the rare nights he did visit you, you would sit around the tombstones in the cemetery. He would tell you stories of all the souls he has guided into the spirit world and sometimes, the names he would tell you about would be in the very cemetery you two would spend time in.

The ravens would always squawk at your presence but you knew exactly how much they appreciated your company during the deadly hour.

You had come to know Seonghwa a great deal. His entire being was now an open book to you and every detail was like a word etched onto his pale skin that was the page. He would often shower you with ghostly kisses and you always found yourself wanting more.

"Just concentrate," his voice sounded behind you as you closed your eyes and narrowed all your energy onto the spirits he was talking about.

"You're special. Made for this, made for me. You can do it," he said and coaxed you further with a loving nudge.

"Seonghwa...I can't-" and the words got stuck in your throat as a wisp stroked your side and curled around your wrist.

"What...Seonghwa...what?" You stuttered and looked helplessly at the reaper.

"Just relax," he said cooly and you snorted at his comment.

"Yeah...relax," you said and shook your arm, trying to get the wisp off you.

"It's a soul, (Y/n). A lost one, just like yours," he said and stretched his hand, attracting the wisp towards it. You watched stoically as the white smoke uncurled and floated towards Seonghwa who sent it towards the sky in a hushed whisper.

"It's gone," he said and you nodded before sinking to the yellow grass under you.

"Seonghwa-" you started but when you looked up, he was gone with only the moon glimmering as bright as his blade looking down at you.

It was a horrible feeling to admit that you had gotten shamefully attached to Seonghwa. You found yourself thinking about him even when you were lying in bed, begging for sleep to take you without any nightmares.

Sitting up in your bed, the covers bunched around your midriff, you silently called his name.

"Seonghwa."

It was an almost non-existent whisper. Something that couldn't even be heard to your own ears but you had felt your lips move which was why you were sure of the letters tumbling from your lips.

"My darling, you finally learned how to use my name," his voice sounded and you jumped in your skin at the amount of soft malice in his voice. You wanted to bask in it.

"I want it," you voiced and he lowered his hood while quipping his eyebrow at you.

"What do you want?"

You inhaled deeply and leaned into Seonghwa.

"I want to be with you?"

Seonghwa laughed a musical laugh that was still cold in nature, the icicles pressing into your body.

"You've chosen not to be," he said and nodded moving even closer to you, almost pressing your body into his.

"Not to be what?" You asked and Seonghwa smirked the most deadly smirk you had ever seen adorn his sharp features.

"Not to be alive."

His final words made him press his lips to yours. This time, it was a liberating feeling as the black wisps climbed your body, tangling around your limbs and then finally your throat.

It was strangling all the life out of you but as Seonghwa petted and soothe your hair, you felt yourself feeling a tad bit better.

You lost yourself with one last word hanging from your lips, "Seonghwa."

The air was colder when you awoke. Two feet on the ground but they weren't yours.

Gasping, you stumbled backwards as you saw your dead body lying limp on the floor.

"They'll call it a miracle," Seonghwa said and kissed your hand that had turned a pale white to resemble his. There was no pulse this time and the place that held your beating heart was glaringly silent.

"How did you...what did you-" Seonghwa stopped you with a careless wave of his scythe.

"You don't have to know," he said as you both made your way to the cemetery.

"(Y/n)," the groundskeeper said and gave you a slight mocking bow.

"It's great to see you," he said and you laughed a hearty laugh, one that liberated your entire soul.

"I'm going to miss you, sir," you said but the groundskeeper shook his head with a slight chuckle.

"Nonsense, child. As long as you're with the reaper, you'll always see me."

Seonghwa grabbed your hand and led you into the shade.

"Are you ready?" He asked and you nodded enthusiastically.

Sharing one last kiss, you stepped into the shadows, disappearing forever.

"They got my birthday wrong," you complained to Seonghwa who just laughed and traced the headstone with his hand.

"Do you really care?" He asked and you whined a little before laughing.

"Not really...but they make me look older than I actually am!"

"It's alright, my darling. They never cared anyways."

And that was something you could agree on. They never did care. All they did was bury you ten feet under the ground and mutter false prayers of love before dispersing back to their lives that didn't contain a sick, now dead child.

When you were in high school, you had read Shakespeare's play, Hamlet. It was there you had learned the phrase 'To be or not to be, that is the question'.

It truly was the question, your question. But your grandmother always told you, death was never permanent, only a change of worlds so your answer to the question would always be ‘not to be’.

Not to be alive but to be by Seonghwa's side.

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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years

Text

Harringrove teachers AU part 2

Part 1

First of all, thank you very much to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the first part. Also, to the people who reacted or said nice things in the tags: you made my day with your sweet words <3

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume, @marianaosborne, @liglitterbug, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

Trying to avoid Steve Harrington soon proved to be impossible. He was pretty much everywhere. The fact he was close to Robin and Heather, who Billy himself had quickly befriended, didn’t help. Steve was always hanging with them in the teachers’ lounge before class and eating with them at the cafeteria at lunch. And, as if it weren’t awkward enough already, Steve and Billy almost never interacted directly. Apparently, Steve was tolerating Billy’s presence, but it didn’t go any further than that. Beside a half hearted “hello” when they saw each other, Steve barely ever said anything to him.

Billy tried to start conversations with him. Several times. But Steve always answered shortly, so Billy dropped it.

And he was angry about it.

Because, even though it pained it greatly to admit it, Billy would have loved for Steve and him to be friends.

Every single person in this school seemed to adore Steve, from the students to the staff.

At least a couple of Billy’s students arrived late to English whenever they had Math with Steve beforehand. They always served Billy the same excuse: they had a question of utmost important to ask “Mr. Harrington”, and it couldn’t have waited their next Math class. Billy didn’t buy the bullshit. Strangely, no one arrived late because they had something to discuss with the teacher when they had History with Murray or Science with Sam before English. Half the students had a crush on “Mr. Harrington”, and that was it.

The students regarding Steve like some kind of God was bad enough without the other teachers doing it too. Robin and Heather hugged him all the time, and Murray was constantly holding him hostage about some weird documentary he had watched or whatever theory he had last come up with, and the school counselor, Joyce, smiled extra warm every time she saw him. Even Hopper, the headmaster, would light up when he talked with Steve.

And Billy understood why. Because, while Steve didn’t lose any love on Billy, he was a ray of sunshine to everyone else. He gave his coworkers bright smiles, asked them how they were as if he genuinely cared (and he probably did) about what was going on in their lives, he gave his students encouragements when they came to the teachers’ lounge asking for him during recess (which happened far more often that it should have) because they had trouble with some mathematical concept that Billy didn’t give a damn about.

Steve was a saint with everlasting patience… Except when it came to Billy, apparently. And Billy was so envious he was nearly green with it.

He was also feeling self-conscious, wondering what Steve had seen in him to shun him even though his kindness knew no bound where anyone else was concerned. It couldn’t just be that Billy looked unprofessional, right? Some people that he’d seen Steve interact with enthusiastically had traits far more negative than that, at least in Billy’s book. It made no sense and frustrated him to no end.

He was starting to think that Steve’s dislike of him was just a visceral reaction and had no valid reason. Then, Steve had to go and do something confusing.

Billy was eating lunch in the cafeteria, waiting for Heather and Robin (and Steve, by extension) to join him, and Steve sat down in front of him. Billy immediately noticed the huge piece of chocolate cake on his tray.

“How come you got some cake? I saw someone take the last piece right in front of me.”

Billy was feeling absurdly sour over it. He could have really gone for something sweet.

“Oh… Maria saved it for me.” Steve admitted.

At least, he had the decency to look sheepish.

“Right…” Billy replied, pouting a little.

Of course, one of the lunch ladies had put a piece of cake aside just for the Lord and Savior of Hawkins High. Billy should have known.

“Do you want it?”

Billy blinked at Steve, answering a second too late to appear unsurprised by the question.

“Ugh… no, thank you.”

Had Steve really… offered to give him his dessert? Had he really been nice to Billy? Or had Billy just hallucinated the entire thing?

“You sure? I honestly wouldn’t mind…” Steve said, looking at his plate rather than at Billy.

He was just saying that to be polite, obviously. Billy wasn’t going to take his dessert away from him. It would only make Steve dislike him more.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Steve looked up from his plate and offered a small forced smile, before focusing on his food once again.

Things were already back to normal (ie. Steve not talking to him), then.

Heather and Robin arrived barely a minute later, saving them from the awkward silence that had taken place after their thirty-second conversation (if it could even be called that).

As soon as he had finished eating, Steve announced:

“I’ve gotta scoot. I have to prepare some stuff before my next class.”

He had already got up from his chair when he reached the end of his sentence.

“You still on for tomorrow?” Robin asked.

“Sure thing. See you then!”

Steve took his tray and walked toward the exit in quick strides.

“What’s tomorrow?” Billy asked.

“We’re going to Benny’s coffee shop to grade some papers. You can come if you want.”

Billy had just played himself, hadn’t he? He had asked out of curiosity. He hadn’t been expecting to be invited along to whatever Robin and Steve had planned.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude”, was Billy’s last ditched effort to avoid what was sure to be an extremely awkward afternoon.

He could have come up with some fake excuse, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of lying to Robin. Because she’d been nice to him so far, and also because he was almost certain she would see right through him. She was far too observant for Billy’s good.

“Nonsense, you wouldn’t be intruding.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Uh… okay, then. Thanks.”

Billy was about to eat his vanilla pudding, aka his sad non-chocolate cake dessert, when Max came up to their table and awkwardly said “hello” to Heather and Robin.

“Something you want?” Billy questioned, because she was obviously there to ask him something but wouldn’t spit it out.

“I’m going to Art club this afternoon. It ends at six… Will you come get me?”

Billy arched an eyebrow.

“We have an Art club?”

Also, since when was Max into art?

“Yeah… well actually today’s the first session… whatever. Will you drive me back home or not?”

“Can’t you skate?”

Now Billy was just being an asshole. Max had been skating to and from school most days since, according to her, it was “uncool” to be seen hanging with a teacher… which was stupid because 1. Billy was her brother, and 2. There was nothing uncool about him.

“I… ugh… well. I broke my skateboard.”

Max bit her lower lip.

Billy sighed.

“Again?”

“Yeah… sorry.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll drive you home.” Billy conceded, making a quick mental note to go buy Max a new skateboard. For the third time this year.

“Thanks. Later.”

She was gone as quickly as she had come, leaving Billy to deal with Robin and Heather’s puzzled faces.

“What was that?” Heather asked.

“Maxine Mayfield…?” Billy said, hoping to avoid this particular conversation.

The universe didn’t want him to avoid things that day, though.

“I know that, dumbass. You know each other?”

“Yeah, she’s my sister.”

“What?! How come we didn’t know that?”

“We don’t have the same name, whatever. It’s not that big a deal.” Billy mumbled.

“Yeah… but still… you could have told us.”

“Here honey, have some cake, it’s delicious.” Robin said, extending her fork to Heather.

Billy was thankful for the distraction. But he mainly focused on the cake, that he had only now taken notice of.

“Did Maria save that for you?” He asked.

Robin frowned.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Never mind.” Billy said.

Billy chose to stay at school after his last class and to wait in the teachers’ lounge until Art club was over and Max was ready to go home. He would have used the time to grade some papers, but he was supposed to do that tomorrow afternoon with Robin… and Steve. So he spent the hour and a half reading, instead.

He went to the classroom, which Max had given him the number of by text, five minutes before the session was supposed to end. He waited at least fifteen minutes before the first student left the room, greeting Billy on the way out.

Max came out last, along with El, the headmaster’s adopted daughter. She was one of Billy’s students. She had some troubles in English because, from what he had been told, she had only started learning the language recently. She was pretty quiet, maybe because of that exact reason, but she seemed like a very sweet girl. It would be good for Max to hang out with her. Billy didn’t dare ask because he didn’t want to put Max on the spot or make her feel bad, but he feared she had yet to make friends at school.

Billy’s thoughts were interrupted when none other than Steve Harrington emerged from the classroom right after the girls. Well, that explained the ten minutes Billy had had to wait.

Steve had paints all over his hands, and some on his shirt. There was even a little blue spot on his cheek. He looked painfully cute. Billy didn’t like it one bit.

“Billy?” Steve asked, sounding as shocked as Billy felt. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick my sister up.” He said, gesturing to Max. “You run the Art club?”

Billy didn’t mean to sound this disbelieving, but he was having a hard time reconciling Math teacher and art enthusiast. Was that judgmental? Was Billy a hypocrite?

“We don’t have a real art teacher so… uh… for lack of a better option, I’m taking care of it for the time being.”

“You’re great at it, Steve.” El said with a beaming smile.

Did all his students call him Steve or was it only the headmaster’s daughter? Billy was intrigued.

“Oh thanks, El. You’re too nice.”

Billy almost said: “that’s the pot calling the kettle black”, but he thankfully kept his mouth shut.

Steve locked the classroom door and then turned back to them.

“Well, girls, Billy, have a good weekend. See you on Monday.”

“Actually, you’ll be seeing me tomorrow.”

What had happened to Billy’s mouth staying shut?

“Oh… you’re coming? That’s… that’s great.” Steve stammered.

He smiled, but it was too late: Billy had seen the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yeah… great. Have a good evening, Steve.” He sounded cold, as he said it.

“Y-you too.”

Yes… The coffee date was going to go swimmingly.

#Harringrove #Harringrove teachers AU #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Heather Holloway #Max Mayfield #Eleven Jane Hopper #a bunch of other characters mentionned #Stranger Things #my writing

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

Note

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it.

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me.

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters�� internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever).

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown.

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel.

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again.

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc.

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn:

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship — first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc).

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely.

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways.

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on.

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare.

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life.

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot!

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can.

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien.

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him.

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here).

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds:

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic.

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident.

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing.

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic.

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important.

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture.

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great.

Their first impressions of one another are very important.

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant.

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.”

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant.

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her.

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever.

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does!

But then there’s this line:

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big.

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf.

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there.

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense?

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc.

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.

#oh my god this is ridiculously long i am SO sorry #asks #faramir #Éowyn

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chibalein · 4 years

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Kalafina Live Report: 9+ONE @Kitakyushu - REVISITED

So, this is something I wanted to do for a long time now (almost 3 years to be exact). Back in 2017, when Kalafina was still a thing and times were good, I was lucky enough to live in Japan and able to attend various of Kalafina activities. My first proper concert was their final live of the 9+ONE tour in the city of Kitakyushu/Fukuoka prefecture, in June 2017.

My first live report was certainly different than all the others that followed, less detailed, less emotional so to say. I always wanted to update the whole thing because looking back, there were so many moments during the concert that I - for whatever reason - did not write about enough or not at all. Well, since I have been working at home for quite a while now, I feel like now is the perfect time, as this gives me an amazing reason to be lazy and productive at the same time. Here is my original live report: PART 1 / PART 2

So, a lot of things will certainly stay the same because I just don’t remember enough of the concert, especially about the vocal performance or things the girls have said during the MCs. I will add some other details that I still remember (hopefully correctly), and describe everything a bit nicer too :)

Let’s do it! Long ass report ahead! again

Back then, I was living in Kanagawa prefecture, but I was too late for tickets of the Yokohama or Tokyo lives. I was planning to visit a friend who lived in Fukuoka city at the time and Kalafina’s Kitakyushu concert perfectly fit into my schedule. Luckily, I was able to buy a ticket via convenience store. As I was pretty late, I got a kinda bad seat in the almost very back of the upper floor.

The morning of the live I arrived in the city of Kitakyushu, which is a rather famous port city at the northern tip of Fukuoka prefecture. The historic town Kokura has a beautiful castle, which I visited as well as Moji port. (After reading Hikaru’s blog post where she said that she also went to see the castle, I was a bit disappointed that I didn’t meet her xD). There’s also TOTO Museum, a museum dedicated to the TOTO company, which is famous for inventing those high-tech toilets that Japan is so known for.

I was kind of warned beforehand that the Kalafina good’s sale would attract a ton of people, so I wanted to be there as early as possible. About two hours too early I arrived at Kitakyushu’s Harmony Cinq Soleil Hall and waited along with a handful of other people. Slowly but steadily more and more people would gather, forming an absurdly long line. Not as extreme as the 10th Anniversary good’s line, but still impressive. Luckily, I was standing in some shade, because it was so damn hot and sunny the entire weekend. When the doors finally opened, I am sure there were like 200-300 people waiting to receive those sweet sweet popcorn buckets that were sold as venue exclusive merchandise. In the end, I bought the T-shirt, the key holder, the popcorn and the clear files, but looking back I do regret not buying the notebook. I wanted the popcorn mainly because of the Kitakyushu exclusive sticker - the popcorn itself had the flavor chocolate + soda (I think?), which I remember thinking was the shittiest combo of all flavors they had. It didn’t taste as bad as I thought but I still think it was overpriced. Together with the ticket itself, I ended up spending about 100€, which I thought was a lot, especially as there were people buying the entire collection and even more... hahahaha, oh innocent, naive past me, I didn’t know what was coming to me yet.

(Photo: in front of the venue)

I do love my merch though. I still wear all my Kalafina T-shirts at home, and while in Japan I had the key holder... hold my keys, making it all dirty and bent now lol The popcorn cup is decorating my shelf to this day.

Anyway, after getting my stuff, I went on to walk around, grab something to eat and even made friends with a Japanese girl, sharing our Kalafina love. Later, when people were admitted, probably around 800-900 people were there, quite a view! I saw some foreigners as well, and even made friends with a Philippine girl as well :D

(Photo: merch table at the venue)

(Photo: the stuff I bought)

While entering, staff was handing out little goodie bags, mostly with flyers and ads for other events or the obligatory concert questionnaire. However, that bag included our very own 9+ONE Lights! I took my seat which wasn’t as far from the stage as I thought, but I still would not be able to see the girls’ expressions.

When the concert finally started, a black but transparent screen was lowered (you know it from the 9+ONE DVD) and they started to play an overture version of “Samidare ga sugita koro ni”. Meanwhile we got see a collection of Kalafina’s entire discography, where each title of their songs, even in their respective font if available, was shown and merged into a white cloud, revealing our ladies.

(Photo: stage before the concert started)

They started with “Samidare ga sugita koro ni”. I remember it being good and nice, but I was never really fond of that song, even though it has grown on me a bit. We all clapped along and had our fun.

It continued with “misterioso”, also a song that has grown on me over time. While everyone was staying seated and enjoying themselves before, all the dudes in the arena seats jumped to their feet, being an upbeat song and stuff. I was grateful for the upper floor to have stayed seated almost the entire time, because being so far away was shitty enough and I didn’t want to spend 2 hours standing.

Anyhow, this song revealed some flaws in either the acoustics of the hall or the mixing of the sound technicians (I guess the latter?). Wakana was uncomfortably loud most of the time, drowning out the other two, but especially Hikaru - in some songs more than in others and more often than not when she wasn’t in the lead too. Some of her notes simply made me cringe. Hikaru on the other hand seemed to be feeling the exhaustion of the tour. On many occasions, she sounded tired, especially when it came to hit those high or long notes. The band didn’t help either, they also drowned out many parts of the singing... Maybe it was just this venue though and luckily, the 10th Anniversary wasn’t like this. Then again, I only attended acoustic lives or lives without band after that, so who knows how they sound when there is no DVD recording going on XD

Next was “Lacrimosa”, and this time Wakana wasn’t being as cringy as before. Poor Hikaru doing nothing for most of the time. One cool moment was that short pause after their “LA-CRI-MO-SA” part, right before the final chorus. The stage turned deep red with the girls reaching out to the audience. When you don’t know that this is coming, it’s an incredibly powerful move.

I don’t remember what they said during MC#1, other than greeting the audience and the usual “We hope you have fun” stuff. I do remember Hikaru welcoming us to the Harmony Cinq Kitakyushu Soleil Hall, by saying the entire name of the hall, and then saying something along the lines of “Thank god I didn’t trip over my tongue” (it’s a lot harder to say that name in Japanese, I give it to her lol).

They proceeded to introduce “Ashita no Keshiki”, a song that is not performed often, also because it’s a song that is mainly sung by Wakana. It was a beautiful performance, which was a little bit ruined by Hikaru. If you thought that she sounds strained and tired in the 9+ONE DVD version, well, imagine her like 5 concerts after that performance. Still great though, I came to love that song a lot.

“Hikaru no senritsu” was equally ok, but Hikaru again kind of screwed up her short “ashita wo kanadete” towards the end of the song. She probably just didn’t hit the note correctly, but to me it sounded as if she screwed up the timing, because I didn’t even her the first word or so.

With “Mirai”, Kalafina finally started to move around, so far they had stayed glued to their positions. They waved and interacted with the audience, cheering us on to cheer them on. I did enjoy the performance and the overall atmosphere, although “Mirai” belongs to my most disliked of all Kalafina songs.

In MC#2, they talked about “Ashita no Keshiki” a bit, together with their first album and how this is the first time performing in Kitakyushu (and not Fukuoka city). Since this is Wakana’s home prefecture, she proceeded to talk about her favorite Udon and Ramen restaurants (I think it was also about the restaurant chain West) and other specialties of Fukuoka.

The next song was “Oblivious”, also a song I was really looking forward to. As you know, this time Hikaru decided to sing her first lines in her high head voice (probably because she just can’t do it “regularly” anymore). I thought and still think it’s lovely, as it gives the song a much more mysterious opening and it’s also quite closer to the original to be honest. Wakana and the band drowned out Keiko for most of the time, with Hikaru and her high voice coming to the party later too. The acoustics were really weird that day...

“storia” was as usual, nothing special and not a song that really stands out to me anymore.

I was more looking forward to “Gogatsu no Mahou”, which is also a song I came to appreciate more over time. I adore the bridge section after the chorus, especially Wakana’s “habataku kotori no” and that one super high moment, so I really tried to focus on that particular part of the song. It was great!

With “consolation”, finally a darker and fiercer song made its debut and while I don’t really remember the performance itself anymore, I do remember the stage production. Basically, they packed out those lights and illuminations that they have been hiding so far and blasted us with them. Hikaru was pretty quiet though. Keiko on the hand appeared to have problems with her earpiece, and at some point she was frantically waving to the technicians backstage.

Wakana took it upon herself to dominate “To the beginning” as well, but we got some action on stage at least, since the girls stayed glued to their positions most of the timea again.

In MC#3, Keiko talked about how every live performance as well as their unique harmony is important to them (quite ironic after Wakana was actively trying to make Keiko NOT be heard lol). The following song was special in a sense that there would be NO harmony. Back then, when Kalafina received the song for the first time (or before recording, not sure), they even asked Kajiura Yuki whether this is correct or even intentional.

With “Haru wo matsu” we got our obligatory ballad. While I was never really fond of the song, I think it’s sweet and yes, their missing harmony gives it quite a refreshing vibe. Keiko sounded pretty much like in the 9+ONE DVD, but it was so strange to hear her cutesy voice live and so clearly... she sounded like an entirely different person XD Hikaru, for the first time actually, could finally shine, as we could HEAR her. She didn’t deliver as good as she probably could have, but still it was a very pretty performance.

Now, we were reaching the spot on their setlist that would differ at each venue. Before the concert, I checked out all setlists from the previous lives to see whether there were any patterns or which songs were most likely to be performed (again). It seemed like they took 4-5 songs and repeated them over the course of the tour, which is why I had my hopes high for “Hikaru furu” or “Kimi no gin no niwa”. But interestingly they chose a song they hadn’t performed yet (please correct if I’m wrong here), which was “Ring your bell”.

“Ring your bell” is very high on my list of all-time disliked Kalafina songs (I just can’t seem to escape that song...). But I was pleasantly surprised to hear that they started the song as an acoustic version, very much like the performance during their Arena Live. It stayed acoustic until after the first chorus, then the band joined too. I like this half-half version over the “normal” version, because it’s an amazing moment when you don’t expect the loud and cheerful opening of “Ring your bell” to suddenly fill the stage. The overall harmony of band and singers came together again and the acoustics were finally so much cleaner and nicer. The audience rose to their feet and even some dedicated dudes on my loser floor stood up to cheer them on. However, Wakana’s final high-pitched “ring your BELL” was incredibly cringy and breathy, one of the main reasons I hate the song so much.

Anyway, Kalafina got their break to change costumes and we got an AMAZING performance by the band that played some BGM of the anime “Kubikiri Cycle”. To this day, I don’t know what exact song they played and for the love of god, please SOMEONE TELL ME. I know it was fairly uptempo and rather dark... help pls XD

So far, the stage production was pretty much boring and simple. Other than some light effects, nothing really happened, we just had that huge curtain as background. Now, we finally got ACTION. Well, at least for the eye. They lifted the curtain and revealed those huge, impressing statues of Kalafina’s silhouettes, mostly made out of their past live outfits. I could have spent a long time checking out every part of this artwork, trying to recognize what dresses from which live they used and what not. Now that I watched the DVD, I know where Kalafina was standing, but at the time I didn’t see them AT ALL. The music played the overture and suddenly Keiko was on stage with the other two following her. To me it looked like they stepped THROUGH the middle silhouette, but turns out they were just standing in front of it - they were so far away, I couldn’t differ between them and the clothes behind them lol

(Photo: Hikaru’s “silhouette” with her outfits)

Well, I think I already gave you my opinion on those new dresses... At the time, both Keiko and Wakana looked kinda cool and pretty shiny, but even though I could see jack shit from so far away, I knew that Hikaru’s outfit was a disappointment. Her fucking pants and skirt or whatever that is... XD

I was incredibly looking forward to “Märchen”, as now it became one of my all-time favorite songs. But back then I was especially amazed by the song during their release event of the single in April. I wanted to hear this live again so badly and well... I did, but it wasn’t as good as the release event. Again, Hikaru sounded tired and Keiko and Wakana were fighting about who could be louder than the band. Keiko drowned out Hikaru most of the time... During the middle section we saw their Kala-dance, which I already got to witness during the release event. However, I was pleased to see that they decided to spice things up by showing background animations. It looked like they danced in sinc with themselves, it was truly impressive and such a refreshing use of video. This, as well as the later “Magia” performance made this concert/tour truly stand out and I am glad that they could take their creativity to a new level. I wish they would have continued to do so much more later on.

So, let’s talk about “Magia”. Holy shit, what a performance. The screen from the very beginning was lowered, intro was played, forest was shown, you know it guys. In sync with their live singing, they showed this fucking amazing pre-recorded bits of Kalafina and as I didn’t see this coming, it absolutely blew my mind. It was a psychedelic wtf show with cinema feeling all over the place and for once, the acoustics were actually good. Especially the instrumental part was... I don’t know what it was, but HOLY. SHIT. Truly guys, it was so cool. If there ever was an interview on that particurly performance I would love to read it to how Kalafina thought about this one and how the creation process went. When Keiko stepped in front of the screen it just added to her overall cool demeanor. When the screen was lifted again, we got a little sneak peak of the microphone stands in back.

(Photo: Keiko’s “silhouette” with her costumes)

Which were of course used for “Kyrie”. The DVD version is truly one of my favorite performances of that song and in Kitakyushu it was pretty cool too, especially with their small but effective arm movements. Keiko’s final long-ass “kyrie” was amazing and fairly unexpected from my side. Also some fat light show and big bass sounds, which I am always appreciating.

Next up was “heavenly blue” and here they tried to interact with the crowd once more. I like this song mostly for the kajiurago bridge and I always focus especially on Wakana’s super high “so na” (or whatever), while Keiko is going low at the same time. Wakana was too loud again though, but by now their overall performance and acoustics improved quite a lot.

“One Light” once again activated the crowd, especially Hikaru went crazy here. The atmosphere was amazing and you could just feel that everyone was fired up, singing along and having fun. Everyone just screamed when Hikaru sang “boku wa yukeru”, so cool.

MC#4 was about band introduction. Konno Hitoshi and Sakurada weren’t present if I remember correctly, which was a shame... but then again, I wouldn’t know the difference lol

The last song of the block was their new single at the time, “Into the world”. It was really beautiful, Hikaru finally sang more clearly. A good performance, very similar to the ones I would see from that point on.

We got a little break again, as Kalafina traditionally fake-ended the concert. While the audience was clapping, it took about 5 minutes or so for them to return. But first, the screen was lowered again, and some text, together with the intro for “Ongaku” finally told us to switch on our 9+ONE Lights. Everyone did so and boy, what a sight! Even from so far in the back, the lights in the dark hall looked so great! While of course hundreds and hundreds of people were present, you don’t really get a sense of that sheer number when you focus on the stage the entire time. I looked around and with so many lights illuminating the hall, you truly get a feeling of how many people actually are here with you.

Kalafina returned with their plain, but nevertheless cool black outfits, wearing the little lights themselves and standing on a mini-stage. The song played out as usual, but this time, as Konno Hitoshi wasn’t present and the other violin guy played his solo different than usual. Don’t ask me how it differed, I really don’t remember, but I liked that version a lot more. We got a new cool background too.

“blaze” pretty much business as usual.

(Photo: Wakana’s “silhouette” with her outfits, sorry for the bad quality)

MC#5 was about Hikaru and her beloved sales corner, where she mainly introduced the Kalafina produced goods like Keiko’s pink dumbbell and her bath salt (I think). She talked about the 9+ONE Lights and that they do not produce new lights for each concert, but re-use them every time. That was supposed to increase to sense of unity and connection between them and the fans as well as among the fans themselves, “carrying the fire of every fan and concert to the next” or something like this. As Kalafina had upcoming concerts in Taiwan and Hong Kong, Hikaru said that they would bring the lights to international fans too, so “don’t take them home!”. Well... I guess my ten years of studying Japanese at this point must have failed me in that particular instance because I truly don’t know what she said or meant. I unfortunately ended up taking the ring home. #guiltybutnotguilty #sue me

I think this is also where they talked about the big silhouettes we have seen in the earlier block and that they used dresses from previous performances to decorate them. They then turned around, facing the wall and imitated the poses of the silhouettes - it was super funny and crowd laughed and cheered. I think they lifted the screen of this stained glass pattern to show the silhouettes for direct comparison. (Correct me if I am wrong, but I think they cut out this conversation from the DVD? Not sure, too lazy to check).

We sadly arrived the final song of the setlist, which again should differ at each venue. What song would it be? I hoped for songs like “sprinter” or “Yume no daichi”, as those were among the songs they had already performed during the tour.

Well, back then, they had announced their new single “Hyakka Ryouran”, but it wasn’t released yet (I think we only knew some bits of the chorus at the time). Funnily, I talked about that with the girls I had met prior to admittance, something like “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if Kalafina performed Hyakka Ryouran as surprise encore?”. I mean, they were no strangers to performing songs that haven’t been officially released yet, see “Into the World” during the Arena Live. But, you know... I thought that would be unlikely, because why should they?

BUT NOT THEY ACTUALLY DID IT! Keiko was like: “Ah, which song will be the final song... Well, how about our new single?”, and the crowd LOST IT. I lost it too XD Seriously, no one could handle that. Anyway, now that I know the full version by heart, it’s hard to describe how I felt back then. Listening to a song for the first time is always an experience, but it makes it hard to remember when you can’t listen to it again and again. I tried to focus on every aspect of the song, and remember it as being “dark”, due to Keiko’s deep intro, “fast” and “rock-like”, fitting into the samurai setting of the anime with its flute elements. I still couldn’t believe my luck though and afterwards, the crowd cheered and cheered.

Now the concert should have been over, but instead they entered MC#6. They talked about the first sing of the night “Samidare ga sugita koro ni”. Apparently, they pretty much have never performed this one live, except once during a fanclub-only event. For this tour they wanted to sing this song “for everyone”, as it is such a bright and warm piece.

So, for whatever reason, Kalafina decided to perform “Samidare ga sugita koro ni” AGAIN. However, this time they emphazised that bright feeling of connected hearts and unity by making us turn on our One Lights and wave along with the rhythm. Everyone loudly sang with them, especially during the “lalala” part towards the end. It was so much fun to listen to Kalafina, to the audience around me and singing along too, all while watching this amazing light show that we were creating ourselves. It was even better and much more carefree than the first performance. Still can’t believe my luck that of all venues of the 9+ONE tour, I got to attend to most unique one.

After that, the band was introduced again, they all held hands and thanked the audience for coming. But just before they wanted to bow, Wakana suddenly sobbed (so loud that I actually heard it lol), trying to wipe away tears. Being in her home prefecture, I figured she was just so overwhelmed by her emotions. Each of the three said some final words and with that the concert and the domestic 9+ONE tour ended.

I proceeded to take photos of the stage, as we were still able to see the big silhouettes. However, staff members appeared and told everyone to stop taking pictures and get the fuck out, probably to stop people from “spoiling” the concert before the DVD release or copyright or whatever. Well, thankfully I already took like 3 photos and managed to sneakily take another one, in order to have a close shot of each silhouette (which is why the third photo of Wakana’s statue is not a close-up like the other too). I left the building, returned to Fukuoka city and 2 days later back to Kanagawa.

-------------------------------------------------

Despite the sound issues, it was truly a great live experience. 9+ONE would be, along with the 10th Anni, my only “real” Kalafina concert experience, as all the other concerts I attended would either be acoustic or without live band. I am so thankful that I managed to seize the opportunity and attend this live, especially in Wakana’s home. Writing this report again made me remember all those feelings I had back then, now they make me both happy and sad.

Anyway, I hoped you like my updated report!

#kalafina #9+ONE #live #live report #revisited #a bit more details #talk about overdue #fukuoka #never forget

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openheartchoices · 4 years

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Mistletoe Kisses (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Mistletoe Kisses

Open Heart: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Olivia Summers)

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: none

Summary: It’s the very first annual Edenbrook Christmas party, and Olivia can’t help but spend her night filled with jealousy and mistletoe.

A/N: just a cheesy little mistletoe fic because I’m a sucker for them. lots of love and happy reading! <3

“A certain doctor is going to fall over in shock when he sees you,” Sienna said with a wink as her and Olivia walked up to the hotel.

It was the first annual Edenbrook Christmas party. When the hospital ran into some extra money, Olivia had suggested throwing a “fancy” Christmas party to relax from all the pressure the staff had been put under recently. However, she didn’t think her idea would actually be taken seriously, but now she was currently walking up the steps to the hotel where the party was being held at.

The entire hospital wouldn’t be at the party since there was always sick people that needed care, and a hospital couldn’t just shut down for the night, obviously, but Olivia knew that Ethan had the night off (she may or may not have asked Naveen and made him pinky promise to not tell Ethan she asked) and was hoping he’d show up.

Before entering, Olivia turned to Sienna. “Are you sure I look okay? I feel like I did too much.”

Sienna rolled her eyes. “You can never do too much. You look incredible! It’s just a party. Don’t let it freak you out.”

Olivia nodded to her best friend as they entered the luxurious hotel ballroom to see it lavishly decorated. Soft music played while everyone mingled, a glass of something in their hand whether it was champagne, scotch, eggnog, or some fancy drink that Olivia really didn’t recognize. She soon realized that she wasn’t overdressed at all once she saw a lady walk by her in a full ballgown.

“Edenbrook can really throw a party,” Sienna muttered, her shawl wrapped tightly around her, eyes wide as she glanced around the place.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. I don’t even know half of these people,” Olivia replied as she was equally just as starstruck.

Across the room, Ethan, who was chatting to a colleague he really didn’t like, looked around in boredom. He hated dressing up and coming to formal events like this. His eyes darted across the ballroom in hopes to find someone he could strike a conversation up with to get out of the awful one he was in.

And he did.

He swore he stopped breathing when his eyes landed on Olivia who stood near the entrance with Dr. Trinh. She wore a long, red dress that was tight from her chest to her abdomen and then was flared out to the floor from there with a modest slit up her right leg. The dress had lace sleeves down the arms, and Ethan didn’t care that his staring was probably very obvious.

Her blonde hair was delicately braided into a low, messy bun that sat on the right side of her neck, a few pieces of curled hair framed her face that was just as stunning. Ethan couldn’t tell much about her makeup from where he was standing, but he definitely noticed the red lipstick that coated the lips he had kissed many times.

Dr. Trinh must have said something funny because Olivia let into laughing. Ethan felt his heart stop when Olivia’s face lit up. Her nose scrunched up, her head went back, and her mouth morphed into the smile that always left him speechless.

“Excuse me,” Ethan said to the colleague who would not shut up about his achievements before he made his way over to Olivia, his eyes never leaving her.

“Did it work?” Olivia muttered under her breath.

Sienna grinned. “Don’t look to your left, but he’s on his way over right now. I’m going off to mingle. Have fun!”

“Sienna!” It was too late as Sienna had already disappeared into a crowd of people when Ethan finally stood in front her.

Olivia took a look up at him. He was wearing a simple, yet expensive, black tuxedo with a black bowtie and his hair was neatly styled. Even with as simple as he dressed, Olivia still felt her heart race.

She smiled at him, making a mental note to not embarrass herself or be awkward. “Enjoying yourself or are you just being moody as usual?”

He rolled his eyes, opting to ignoring her comment.. “You look… nice, Rookie.”

“Just nice?” Olivia joked, earning a laugh from Ethan.

“Sorry. You look stunning, Olivia.”

Her eyelashes fluttered at the compliment as her cheeks turned a crimson red that was noticeable even under all the makeup. “You look nice, too, Ethan.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Just nice?”

It was Olivia’s turn to laugh this time. She was too busy laughing to notice the way Ethan was looking at her as if she was the only girl in the room.

“Okay, fine. You look very nice. I’d say handsome, but saying that word makes me feel as old as you.”

“I’m only thirty-seven, Olivia, not eighty-seven,” he dejectedly said. “So, what are-“

“If it isn’t Dr. Ethan Ramsey!” A voice from behind Olivia interrupted. “I haven’t seen you in what feels like ages!”

Olivia watched as a woman, whose face she couldn’t see, stood right in front of her, throwing her arms around Ethan’s neck. She furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out why this mysterious lady was hugging the man she was talking to before they were rudely interrupted.

As the woman turned around to face Olivia, she moved her arm to snake around Ethan’s waist while Olivia attempted to not glare at it. Ethan looked a little shocked, but he loosely put his hand on her waist just to look nice.

He cleared his throat, sensing the obvious tension. “Olivia, this is Dr. Katherine Greene. She’s the Department Head of Cardiology at Mass Kenmore, and we went to Johns Hopkins together. Katherine, this is Dr. Olivia Summers who is a junior fellow on my team.”

There was no denying that Katherine was extremely pretty. With her long, dark hair that was down to her waist, chocolate brown eyes, and perfect complexion, Olivia felt a little insecure. Katherine wore a long, silver dress with a low neckline that clashed perfectly with her tanned skin.

“Hello,” Katherine cooly said as Olivia forced a smile back in acknowledgement. “When Harper invited me, I was a little reluctant to accept considering the little rivalry we have with Edenbrook, but when I thought I’d get the chance to reconnect with Ethan,” she put her free hand on his arm, “I jumped to tell Harper that I would come.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “Glad you could make it.”

Katherine shot her a sickly sweet smile. “I am, too. It’s been so long since Ethan and I have seen each other. We haven’t been in touch since, what, our last date?”

Ethan dated her? As in a romantic relationship? Olivia couldn’t hide the look of genuine surprise on her face. Ethan sensed her surprise and was quick to say something. “I wouldn’t call that a date.”

Before Katherine could say anything else, Olivia had decided she was getting sick just looking at the intelligently graceful woman. Although she was extremely flirty and obviously was rubbing whatever relationship they’d had, platonic or romantic, in Olivia’s face, she still had a beautiful elegance about her. “I’m going to grab a drink.”

As she moved around Ethan, he gently grabbed her arm. “Wait, Olivia-“

“No, it’s fine. You two obviously have some catching up to do. I’ll see you later.” Olivia gave him the best smile she could, but the two of them knew it was fake. Ethan went to walk after her, but Katherine grabbed him again, forcing him into a flirtatious conversation he was not in the slightest bit interested in.

“Katherine, you know that wasn’t a date. We got lunch at the same place during the convention in New York, and you sat down at my table.”

Katherine laughed. “Lighten up, Ethan. That little girl is crushing on you and, by the way, it’s painfully obvious. Just letting her know that it won’t happen just so you won’t have to tell her.”

Ethan glared. “Olivia is anything except a little girl. She’s an exceptional doctor and, just like I told the governor, she’s the bright future of Edenbrook. She’s incredibly smart, mature, and can hold her own. I suggest for you to not make comments like that around me about members of my team, Dr. Greene. Especially Olivia Summers.”

—

“And she just put her arm around him. Openly flirting, Dr. Banerji!” Olivia exasperated. “I was standing right there!”

Naveen chuckled. “Sounds like Katherine. She’s always been like that.”

“You know her well?” Olivia asked, taking another sip of champagne.

She stood against the railing outside. The party was still going on inside, but Olivia needed a moment to herself. However, she didn’t decline Dr. Banerji’s company when he asked if he could join her. She liked him quite a bit and always enjoyed his company.

“I wouldn’t say I know her extremely well, but I do know her,” he said. “Ethan said she always tried to get him to go out with her when they were in school, but he was never interested. He finally decided to have dinner with her about two or three years ago, but he wasn’t feeling anything for her. She’s always liked him and always had that flirty attitude.”

“Do you think he’d… go out with her again?” Olivia asked as she fiddled with the lace sleeve of her dress, trying to not look Dr. Banerji in the eye.

Ethan was a grown man. He could date whoever he wanted, but Olivia hoped and wished that it wasn’t Katherine in her stupidly gorgeous silver gown and her long, goddess-looking hair. Deep down, she knew she wished it was her.

As unrealistic as it was considering how Ethan wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional, she did dream of a day when they could walk into a Christmas party hand-in-hand. When Ethan wouldn’t push her away, and when he wouldn’t remind her that their relationship wasn’t a good idea.

With a laugh, Naveen turned to face the younger doctor. “I’ve known Ethan for a long time. I consider him family. In all this time, I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. You have nothing to worry about, Olivia. It’ll always be you. Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banerji.” And she really did mean that.

The older man smiled kindly when he patted her shoulder as he walked by her on his way back inside after letting her know he had business to attend to. “It’s Naveen, Olivia.”

Olivia clutched her empty champagne glass after she took the last sip. The party had been in full swing for close to two hours now. She had spent more than half of the time hiding outside, a quarter of it looking for Sienna who was her ride home, and the other quarter hoping that she wouldn’t bump into Ethan and Katherine.

Her luck proved to not be in her favor when she felt a presence next to her. She didn’t even have to look to see who it was because she could smell the expensive cologne in the air that had been trapped on the pillow he slept on when he stayed at her apartment before he went to the Amazon.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me at.” Ethan turned to look at Olivia whose red lipstick had rubbed off on the empty glass she held. The moon illuminated her face, lighting it up in ways that made her look even more beautiful.

She turned to him, her perfectly styled hair starting to fall down even through all the hairspray Sienna sprayed on her. She laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

“I never dated Katherine,” Ethan told her. “It was one date, and I knew I wasn’t interested in her that way five minutes in. And the date she was talking about wasn’t even a date.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain your love life to me. It’s not like we’re together or anything.” Olivia hoped she was hiding the sad tone to her voice, but felt like she let it slip. She felt like she let a lot of things slip around Ethan.

Ethan looked down and bit his lip. Olivia was right. They weren’t together, so why did he feel so extremely guilty? “We should head back inside. Lace sleeves aren’t made for December weather. I don’t want you getting cold.”

Olivia nodded, a chill coming over her as if the wind had been waiting for Ethan to say that. She sat the empty glass on a tray sitting on a table outside as she crossed her arms trying to get some warmth flowing through her body.

Ethan had discarded his tuxedo jacket on the hanger near the entrance or else he would’ve given it to Olivia who was obviously cold. His fingers lingered on her lower back as he guided her back inside, leaving Olivia’s heart to skip a beat.

“Was that there before?” Olivia asked, pointing up to the doorway.

Ethan followed her gaze to see a mistletoe hanging right above them. He frowned. That most definitely had not been there before when he came out to see her after Naveen had told him that Olivia was…

Realization hit Ethan like a truck as he let out a groan. “Naveen. It was Naveen.”

Olivia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, but she failed to do so and burst out. She brought her hand up to her mouth to try and quiet herself, but she found the whole situation too hilarious. “Where did he get a mistletoe? And how did we not see him put it there behind our backs?”

“It’s Naveen, Olivia. He may be old, but he’s capable of more than you think.”

Now came the awkward part.

Olivia and Ethan refused to meet each others’ eyes. They really didn’t know how they were going to get out of this. Yes, they could just walk away, but they were both lingering for the same reason. There was no “walking away” and they both knew it.

“Well,” Olivia drawled. She cleared her throat. “It is a, uh, Christmas tradition.”

Ethan paused for a moment before regaining his composure. “Rookie, I don’t know-“

“Kiss on the cheek and we call it a night?” Olivia asked, looking straight into his eyes.

He thought about it for a moment. It was just a kiss on the cheek. That was all he was going to do. Pre-teens in middle school gave kisses on the cheeks. Surely he, at age thirty-seven, could kiss a girl on the cheek. In the back of his mind though, he knew it was because this wasn’t just some girl. It was Olivia.

Ethan grabbed the girl’s chin, moving her head to the side to gain access to her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her cheek slowly, letting his lips linger as Olivia slowly moved back to face him, Ethan’s hand still on her chin.

“Olivia-“

She put her index finger to his lips and stopped him before he could say anything else. Olivia trailed her finger to his shoulder where she gripped it with her hand. At last, she finally whispered, “Kiss me, Ethan.”

He was drawn to her and absolutely smitten to the blonde standing in front of him that he did exactly that. Ethan softly pressed their lips together in a sweet, yet passionate kiss that Olivia couldn’t help but smile in the middle of.

“What’re you smiling at?” He whispered, their faces still extremely close.

“Thinking about how Katherine wishes she was doing what I’m doing right now.” She let out a laugh that fanned across Ethan’s face, and he couldn’t help but laugh right along with her.

Once the laughter had stopped, Olivia wrapped both arms around his neck as his hands went around her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, thankful they were having this private moment that no one else saw. The soft music playing from inside made everything even more like a daydream.

“Liv, you know that if things were different-“

“I know.”

The two relished in the moment because they knew that it was going to have to end soon. They had to go back to reality. For a moment, they could feel like a normal couple in love. They could pretend they had what they wanted. But only for a short amount of time.

But as Ethan held the girl in his arms that made him feel things he’d never felt in his entire life, he realized that he didn’t want this to just be a dream. He wanted this to be the real thing.

“We’ll talk, okay?” Ethan said after a moment of silence, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll figure something out.”

He felt her smile and nuzzle deeper into him, and, for the moment, he couldn’t help but smile, too. She had that effect on him. The one that made him feel dizzy and out of breath, but in a good way. Olivia was everything good wrapped up into an incredible person.

From inside the hotel, unbeknownst to Olivia and Ethan, Naveen and Sienna high-fived each other.

“You think it worked for sure?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Banerji. Nice work. I think we just pushed them in the right direction."

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fic #ethan ramsey x olivia summers #open heart #open heart 2 #choices #choices app #choices stories you play

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gastricpierrot · 4 years

Text

Title: Breathe fire into me

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio might have a little crush on the cute barista from the boba shop he visited recently.

Only there’s a catch: there’s much more to Galo Thymos than what he seems.

Note: role reversal AU, boba barista Galo, archer main Lio

Also on AO3

[Chapter 1]

[Chapter 2]

Lio, to his own disappointment, did not find the peach tea particularly special.

It was fragrant, at the very least. And the caffeine has just the right kick. It's just...a little on the sweet side? Okay, maybe a lot on the sweet side. Lucia definitely loved her drink. The bitterness from Aina’s matcha helped balance out its overall taste. The rest had some wide eyes and raised eyebrows upon their first sips.

Still, it’s not bad enough for Lio to want to avoid the place the rest of his life. Maybe he can try for an order with less sugar the next time? Not that he thinks he’ll have the chance to do so soon and—

“Lio, you’re about to miss your mug by about a mile.”

Lio’s snapped out of his daze by a sharp clap on his shoulder from Remi, and he only registers what he means when he sees that he’s this close to pouring his coffee directly onto the countertop. He quickly fixes his aim, frowning hard at his mug like it’s its fault that he almost made an embarrassing mess.

“You can always talk to us if something’s bothering you,” Remi offers, sounding genuinely concerned that Lio seems to be unusually out of it.

“No, it’s not a big deal, really,” Lio assures because it shouldn’t be. It ridiculous that he’s even getting distracted over something so insignificant when there are more important things to direct his time and energy towards—especially now knowing Mad Burnish has once again gained a new leader. They’ll have to start tracking him down soon, start paying more attention to potential target locations for arson. They must not be allowed to mobilize.

“If you say so.” Remi doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but he doesn’t pry. “The offer still stands, though.”

“Thanks.” Lio then slightly jiggles the jug he’s holding. “Coffee? There should be just enough left for another mug.”

Remi shrugs, accepting his offer. The two spend a silent moment in the pantry simply huffing into their mugs, trying to cool their drinks down enough to take careful sips. The wall fan in the lounge buzzes extra loudly whenever it turns a specific direction and sends the weighed-down papers on the desks flapping in place. It's quiet enough that they can faintly hear Lucia’s muffled laughter from the nap room upstairs as she indulges in whatever random online content she’s managed to stumble across this time.

This is the sort of tranquility of night shifts that Lio really enjoys.

He heads to the rooftop once he’s finished his coffee and cleaned up, leaving with a casual reminder from Remi to not fall asleep there again. Lio climbs the stairs and reaches the top, pushing heavy doors open to be greeted by a sea of black.

The stars aren’t visible tonight—though it’s not like they’re normally all that easy to see either thanks to the ever-present city lights. It’s the moon that Lio’s spotted earlier when he happened to glance out a window; a bright, pale yellow orb seemingly hanging low enough in the sky for him to simply reach out and touch at the height he’s at.

He takes a breath, savoring the air from the breeze blowing towards him as he casts his gaze afar. Even in this time of the night, the city doesn’t seem to sleep. Music echoes from somewhere in the distance, some stray cats are having a fight in some alley. There's a short revving of bikes. Even along the streets within the station’s proximity, where most—if not every—shop should be closed by midnight, Lio spots people walking about, heading somewhere yet seemingly nowhere.

He pulls his jacket just a little tighter around himself and sighs, relishing the moment.

And he nearly jumps when the sirens suddenly blare to life.

Lio’s bolting downstairs in an almost conditioned response, mentally taking note of all the information recited through the speakers by a computerized voice, sent directly from the site of fire via compulsory built-in detectors as part of Promepolis’ centralized fire alert system. A residential house at the south district, approximately three kilometers from base. No particularly flammable substances reported. Cause of fire: Burnish flares.

Lio would not be able to participate directly in the extinguishing part of the mission, with his Gear still awaiting repairs. They have a spare one in store but Lio, to his frustration, can’t seem to pilot it half as smoothly as he can with his own—to the point where Ignis agrees that he would be of more effective help without it.

A residential fire isn’t usually a particularly difficult job, fortunately. Only Remi, Lucia and Lio himself are dispatched, with Remi in charge of the brunt of the work while Lio and Lucia deal with support in whatever way they can.

Lucia sends out a drone the moment they’re close enough to the scene, promptly processing whatever information she can glean and giving out instructions to guide the others. The flames seem to have originated from the first floor and have spread downstairs, but fortunately not yet to adjacent houses. Most neighbours seemed to have evacuated from their homes nonetheless, just as according to standard safety procedures taught to them during periodic neighbourhood fire drills.

Things look under control—until Lucia’s drone detects the presence of two people within the fire.

Lio and Remi are leaping out of the Rescue Mobile before it’s even come to a proper stop; Remi diving right into the blaze in his Gear while Lio prepares to deliver first aid and handle crowd control.

It's not difficult to discern who had been inside the house when the fire started and who are merely bystanders. Lio hurriedly approaches the group of three covered in soot and huddled together, obviously still shell-shocked at whatever had just transpired. They’re a pair of parents with a child around ten to twelve years old. Lio tries to assure them that they’re safe, that the FDPP is here to help. Asks if they’re hurt anywhere, carefully scans over their limbs to make sure they really are fine when they respond negative.

“But our daughter,” the mother manages to stammer, voice choked with barely restrained panic. “She’s still inside!”

“My teammate’s getting her out of there,” Lio assures, noting the sporadic crystalline bursts from Remi’s ice bullets behind him as he tamed the fire. He knows he’s holding back; he has to be extra mindful about preserving the building’s integrity while there are still people inside, lest everything collapses around them. “Just give him a moment m—”

“No, you don’t understand!” The lady clutches Lio’s arms, increasingly frantic as she digs her fingers into his jacket sleeves. “There’s this young man, he just—”

She doesn’t manage to finish her sentence, cut off by the sudden roar of serpents erupting from the blaze. The hairs on Lio’s neck instantly stand on their ends, and on instinct, he turns around.

And he feels his stomach sink as Lucia manages to intercept the fire just in time, freezing it in place barely a foot away from him. Lio swallows thickly, hearing multiple screams around him. It seems that he’s not the only one suddenly attacked by the flares—but what happened? It wasn’t this aggressive before, did something—

“Someone’s leaving the house!” Lucia’s voice fizzles through his earpiece, nearly drowned out by the shattering of ice all around them. Lio grits his teeth, willing his body to move and look towards the house’s front door, peering through the flames to see two figures indeed shuffling their way out into the open.

Why aren’t they with Remi? Lio doesn’t have time to wonder. He gets on his feet and rushes over, expecting either of them to collapse any moment from the heat and smoke and having to bodily carry them to safety.

Except they don’t.

The pair are engulfed in flames that look different from the usual Burnish flares, a shade of teal instead of the bright blues, pinks and yellows. It looks completely harmless on them—almost looking protective, even, shielding them from the raging fire of the house. The young man has a hand on the girl’s shoulder as he walks her out.

It finally clicks: these two are Burnish. The girl must’ve either just awakened as one, or lost control.

Lio watches the flames flicker and dance, subconsciously mesmerized, before they abruptly retreat back into the young man’s body like it’s where they belong.

Lio could've sworn he hears the faintest sound of giddy, child-like laughter as it happens.

“Hey, you’re...”

Lio glances up, and, in a moment of what feels to him like pure absurdity, finds himself face to face with the staff from the bubble tea place.

xXx

Burnish are actually people who’ve undergone a sudden, unexplained mutation, many a result of extreme stress.

The girl was a university student, apparently just about overwhelmed with exams and papers to write and under a lot of pressure to perform well to maintain her scholarship. There could’ve been more factors building up to her awakening; Lio did not and was not obliged to pry. There are more than enough similar cases, people driven to the limits of what they can emotionally and mentally bear by their circumstances and randomly bursting into flames.

The girl sustained no injuries from the event, but she was still sent to the hospital to get checked just in case, and later on she’d be introduced to a mental help program to hopefully provide her the support she needs. Once all that’s settled, she’d be registered for classes to teach her how to keep her fire under control so there hopefully wouldn’t be more unfortunate accidents. Her family will be staying in a shelter in the meantime while they settle matters concerning their house.

The young man, on the other hand, had been in the area by sheer coincidence on his way back home when he’d seen the explosion of fire in the house. The madman had then barged right in, evacuated the rest of the family, and stayed with the girl until he could convince her that the fires wouldn’t hurt her and that the rest of her family is safe. It's after she’d managed to calm down that they’d then left the house, and the remaining flames allowed themselves to be put out.

He’d insisted he’s completely fine when asked and had slipped off soon after handing over the girl to Lio’s care.

Lio can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever consider joining the FDPP—that sort of courage and resistance to fire is exactly what they need—but he digresses.

They manage to wrap things up within the next hour, and thankfully there’s no other incident until Lio clocks off the next morning. He heads home just as dawn breaks and the rising sun colors the sky with a gradient of yellows and blues. Lio barely notices this, though, dead set on simply making it to his bathroom to take a shower and then pass out for the rest of his long-awaited day off.

He wakes up starving some time in the afternoon, and even then he’s trying to convince himself that a human being can last a solid number of days without food just so he wouldn’t have to get out of bed. He does eventually manage to drag himself up, though, only when the hunger and dehydration begins gnawing at him. Lio groans as he shuffles his way to the pantry to put together some cereal and milk.

He lets out a huge yawn before scooping a spoonful into his mouth, staring absently at his fridge as he crunches on the lightly sugared bits. He’ll have to do some grocery shopping later; the remaining ingredients he has wouldn’t last him until his next break day. Lio ponders over what he should get while he slurps up the last of the milk in his bowl, then later briefly cleaning it up and heading back to bed with his phone in hand.

He spends the next hour or so mindlessly scrolling through his social media feed and watching whatever’s on his recommended list on Y*utube. Lio used to be bothered by how he seems to only be able to laze his way through days when he’s off duty, but he’s proud to say that he's mostly gotten over it. Although being part of Burning Rescue does not necessarily mean there’s always an emergency to tend to, they must always be ready to drop everything and rush out when need be. Carrying out rescue missions and dealing with Mad Burnish when they pop up are one thing, but the constant anticipation for alerts wears them down almost just as much. Lio doesn’t always have the chance to simply let his guard down like this, and he’s gradually learnt to appreciate the quiet, insignificant moments he has when he can just pass the hours idly in his apartment.

It’s almost six in the evening by the time he works up the motivation to prepare going out. He changes out of his jammies, nearly forgets to brush his teeth, and bunches his hair into a hair tie because he can’t really be bothered to untangle it at the moment. He then pockets his phone and wallet, scoops up his keys and a couple of reusable bags from the little basket on his shoe rack, and with a final sweep of his gaze across his room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything important, he heads out.

To be clear, Lio still hasn’t figured out what he’d like to eat for the next week. Then again, it wouldn’t be much different from the usual meals he could whip up either within thirty minutes or cook in a large batch so he can just store them in the fridge and have whenever he needed. He’ll just have to get some meat, fruits, some fresh cartons of milk. He's run out of bread too, he remembers. He could get some canned tuna to make some quick snacks while he’s at it.

The supermarket is close enough to Lio’s apartment for him to walk there and back. Plus it’s the best option since rush hour is still ongoing at this point. Crowds of people gather at bus stops, the roads almost packed with slow-moving traffic. Lio spots students in uniforms chattering loudly in groups, adults in various types of work attire carrying their own bags of groceries. In the distance, a train rattles by.

Lio spends a moment to bask in the mundanity of it all.

He's greeted by a familiar playlist and a blast of air conditioning the moment he enters the supermarket. Lio eyes the growing queues at the check-out counters as he makes his way to the aisles, and decides not to dawdle too much before the crowds get bigger. He briskly heads to the usual sections and fills his basket, grabbing himself some bags of chips in the last minute when he spots the discount labels on the racks. He'd planned to look around and see what else could be on sale, but guess he’d just have to save that for the next time.

Lio walks out about forty minutes later, heavy bags in hand, and pauses in his tracks.

And finds himself going a different direction than that leading home, a slight, subconscious spring in his steps as he moves closer towards the city center. It takes maybe fifteen minutes and one wrong turning before he finally reaches a street that’s still just vaguely familiar. It'd been midafternoon the last time he was properly here and not just passing by, the sun almost too bright in his eyes and blinding when reflected off the many white-washed walls. Now it’s pleasantly buzzing with activity, the incoming night illuminated with bright lights and loud music.

Lio doesn’t plan to properly go into the shop. He’ll just have a look while walking past, just to make sure the guy’s doing okay after that fire. Just be natural, Fotia. Don’t stare, don’t try too hard. At least it’s probably a busy time now and he won’t have the time to notice every passerby and—

The shop is quiet, with the staff crouching behind the counter scrolling through their phones. By sheer dumb luck, Lio’s eyes somehow almost immediately meet with those belonging to the one with spiky blue hair.

Sees an excited grin bloom across his face.

“Mr Firefighter!”

Lio hates the way his heart does a little flip at the address.

“Oh, hey,” Lio manages to respond casually enough (god at least he hopes so), stopping to watch the guy maneuver his way over from his workstation. He's suddenly very aware of the fact that he hasn’t combed his hair. “You doing okay after everything?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t anything serious, really,” Boba boy assures with a scratch of his cheek. He then spots Lio’s groceries. “Went shopping today?”

Lio hums his affirmation, trying not to grow overly conscious of the crinkling of his bags of chips next. “Won’t be off until sometime next week after this.”

“That’s a shame. Thought I’d treat you to a cup, but guess it’s not exactly the most convenient for you at the moment, huh?”

Lio raises his eyebrows at the sudden mention of a treat. “There’s really no need, though?”

“Please, just take it as a token of appreciation. For taking care of a fellow Burnish sister yesterday.” Boba boy then frowns. “Or maybe you’re the type who considers that sort of hour ‘this morning’.”

Lio, the absolute fool he is, finds himself charmed from that statement alone. “I’ll drop by some other time, then? I’ll see if I’ll be free to visit after work tomorrow.”

“Cool, cool! I’ll keep an eye out for you!”

“Thanks,” Lio says, then realization belatedly dawns him. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve ever caught your name?”

“Oh, right.” Boba boy lets out a sheepish laugh as though it hadn’t occurred to him as well. He slips his hands into his pockets, leans his weight back slightly. Relaxed, casual. “It’s Galo. Galo Thymos.”

#promare #lio fotia #galo thymos #galolio #liogalo #pls let this show up in the tags im not gonna say much here for a change fkad;jf #fanfiction

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amarabliss · 5 years

Text

Galahdian Dreams - 4 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three

(Gif credit amarabliss)

“Scourge….” Nyx sat next to you looking at an old new paper clipping a bulb had been wrapped in, “Scooourrrgeee…What is it? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this word around the city.”

“You’ve never heard of scourge? Starscrouge…” He looked at you as you leaned back on your heels, “Really?”

“Uh…is it a rock band or something?” He watched your eyes get wider as you stared at him in disbelief. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s a look you gave him a lot over the last month. Apparently Galahd and Insomnia were different in a lot of ways, most of what you had considered everyday knowledge was news to him and his fellow Galahdians.

“No…” You shook your head before pulling off your gardening gloves, “No…Nyx it’s uh a very scary disease, it has an almost 100% fatality rate.”

“What?” He looked at the paper clipping headline again ‘Scourge enters city limits,’ “This is…like from a year ago. What happened?”

“I don’t really recall…” You frowned shaking your head, “I wasn’t exactly coherent at the time, but cases here in the city are low as far as I know. Only an Oracle can cure it, and right now there’s only two in the world, Queen Sylva and Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae.”

“There’s only two people in the entire world that save people from a death disease…” Nyx shook his head looking up at the sky through the greenhouse glass, “Maybe someone up there should rethink the math…”

“I don’t disagree with you.” You sighed shaking your head, “If they really cared they would have prevented the meteor that causes the disease to begin with…it would solve a lot of problems actually.”

“No meteor, no deamons.” Nyx gave you a sad smile, “Well the gods are on my shit list again.”

“Do they really ever get off the shit list?” You smirked as you stood up putting away your tools.

“Oh! Is that a joke?” Nyx laughed a little as you shrugged, “I’ll be damned…the lady has a sense of humor.”

“I’m not always a political guru…” You wiped your hands on your apron, how you never got you clothes dirty impressed him. He’d helped you a couple times and Drautos had to give him another talking to, luckily just warnings this time due to the nature of it all.

“No obviously not.” He stood up looking at you, smirk growing as he talked “You’re also a gardener who apparently moonlights as a comedian.”

“Ha ha…the Glaive thinks he’s so funny…” You rolled your eyes picking up your gardening box, “Can you please spritz everything?”

“Spritz! Spritzing!” He could hear you giggling as you walked away and he picked up the hose misting everything you had just planted. He found guarding you extremely easy and natural. Especially since you let your wall down some.

He still had to fight you to open up, but it wasn’t as difficult as he initially thought it would be. Okay that was a lie he kept telling himself to not just grab you and start shaking you. All in all, he enjoyed the quiet you created around yourself.

“Why can’t he just leave it alone!?” His head snapped over toward the small shed you had walked over to. Bushes blocked his view of you and whoever you were yelling at.

He dropped the hose taking off into a sprint as another voice began to raise over yours. His hand fell to his kukris as he took a deep breath reminding himself to see the situation first before acting.

“Y/N, you have a responsibility-” Nyx moved around the bushes that had blocked his view seeing a councilmember. His face was red in anger as he tried to tower over you.

“You!” You pointed in his face making him step back. Good for you, Nyx thought to himself, “And everyone else are the ones who pushed me off to the sidelines when Regis stepped in. You all found my worth next to nothing with out the power of the crystal. Now you want to parade me around like a piece of meat…to be handed of to some highborn schmuck! I won’t do it!”

“Y/N, this is not a request from me but the king…” He man reached for your hand and you recoiled.

“Whoa hey…” Nyx stepped in between the two of you, “Walk away, sir.”

“You do not get to order me around.” The man glared at him, “This is a matter…”

“This is a matter that is clearly done.” Nyx shut him down as he glanced back to you, “Ma’am, I believe we’re running late.”

You took in a deep breath looking at him nodding slowly as you caught his drift, “Yes…we are…”

Nyx smirked as you tore of your apron slamming it into the man’s chest as you walked past. As he followed you the man latched on to his arm stopping him, “Learn your place lahdy…”

“What did you just say, Randall?” They both looked at you. Your face was turning red with rage. Nyx had never seen this side of you before and he hoped he’d never be in the receiving end of it. The way your eyes darkened, and hair seemed to stand on end…it was terrifying.

“My lady…” He began to backpedal quickly taking his hand back.

“You should be ashamed of yourself! If my father we’re still alive…” You stepped toward him but was intercepted. Nyx was looking down into your eyes with a cool calmness, “Nyx…”

Nyx felt his chest burn with fire that he couldn’t act on, but he would be the better man. He had to be the better man, “Good day, sir.”

You didn’t resist him as he escorted you out and he didn’t speak as you both walked down the hall. Finally, after putting in some distance from the greenhouse, you spoke breaking the tense silence between the two of you, “Nyx…”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off quickly. It wasn’t fine, it would never be fine.

“No, it’s not!” You stopped looking at him with such a heartbreaking ache, at least there was one person in this city that didn’t look at him like he was dirt, “What Randall did…Nyx…I’m so sorry…”

“I’m fine…what’s a racial slur among councilmembers…” As much as he wanted to play it off that everything was okay. It wasn’t, belittling others because they were different never would be. Hostilities against his people were rising and it was worrying, “At least I didn’t get spit on. Today is a good day.”

He watched you hang your head, “This…this is so wrong…my father is turning in his grave.”

“Yeah, probably, but not much we can do about it.” He stepped closer to you a playful smile appearing on his lips, “I mean if you wanna make me feel better…”

“I will not…” You raised your eyes to meet his trying not to smile, “I will not give into your demands.”

“But I was just insulted…I deserve it.” Nyx smirked wiggling his eyebrows, “And that wonderful sweet lady of a cook never tells you no.”

You rolled your eyes before nodding, “Well…I suppose I could use some chocolate cake right now too…”

Nyx drew his elbow in while making a fist in victory before he asked his question, “So…before I rushed in…who was serving you up and for what?”

You shook your head frowning, “The King has requested my presence at a gathering…a ball actually…where several candidates will be present to consider me for marriage…”

“Marriage? Seriously?” His eyes widened as he shook his head, “Shouldn’t he be marrying off his own son first?”

“I’m sure Noctis will also be suffering through this as well.” You smiled sadly, “And I apparently still have some value in this place.”

Nyx stopped the outside the kitchen door touching your arm gently, “Hey…”

You stopped looking at him with your beautiful eyes. Shit everything about you was elegant and perfection. He wished he was in a position to help you see that. You smiled at him reassuringly, “I’m alright, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant in the game of it all.”

“Ah right, just checking.” He nodded before opening the door entering first, looking around at all the cooks and kitchen staff, seeing no threat he stepped aside, “Ma’am…”

“Ma’am? Aren’t we…” You stopped as you stepped inside seeing your cousin, “Noctis?”

“You get the memo too?” Noct looked at you from the counter cake in hand.

“Yeah…let me guess…” Nyx watched as you hopped up on the counter next to him, “Straight from Dad with a speech of being responsible…”

“Sup man.” Nyx turned his head as Gladio walked over to him handing a piece of delicious looking cake, “Perks of the job, right?”

Nyx took it lifting the fork that was unceremoniously stabbed in the center of the cake out, “Yeah, only when her grace finds it appropriate to sneak in here.”

“I remember, trust me it gets better. The fact you haven’t been fired yet is a good sign.” Gladio told him before taking a big bite.

“You remember?” Nyx glanced over to you rubbing Noct's shoulders.

“Uh…yeah, I was supposed to be her shield and I was for a couple of years once I passed my Crownesguard training.” Gladio looked him a dimness coming to his eyes, “I wasn’t…I…”

Nyx looked at him taking in a deep breath before turning around to block him from everyone’s view, “I am sure there is perfectly good reason why you weren’t there that night. Don’t dwell on it.”

“My sister got sick…and my dad was with King Malcolm…” Gladio frowned looking over to you, “She was so kind about it…go, be with Iris…I should have…”

“Stop.” Gladio met Nyx's gaze, “You can’t do that…you can’t live with what ifs, it’ll stop you from doing your job now and that’s protecting the Crown Prince.”

“…you sound like you know a thing or two about it.” Gladio stared at him as he looked away. Nyx looked back when he sighed, “I guess it’s none of my business…but…eats me up sometimes. I still feel really protective of Y/N…I would still be protecting her if…well I’m sure you know now..”

Nyx nodded a he poked at the cake on the plate, “Yeah…I don’t get how that works…she’s definitely a Lucis. I mean she got a lot of he mother’s looks, but there’s no way she’s not Malcolm’s.”

“I know what you mean. What they put her through to prove it though…fuck man…” Gladio sighed heavily, “I just had to sit by and watch.”

“What do you mean? They didn’t just run a blood test?” Nyx set the cake down as Gladio gave him new information.

“No…they pretty much put her on a public trial going through every single detail of her life from birth to present.” Gladio shook his head a protective anger coming to his eyes, “I was getting so pissed for her. They tracked down everyone in the delivery room that day…it was a fucking circus.”

Nyx looked over seeing you smile and nudge Noct with your arm as Gladio went on, “Tried dragging King Malcolm through the mud too. Thankfully my dad and Cor stepped in shutting down the accusations of infidelity immediately. The last thing was the test…by that time they had smeared Y/N's name so much it didn’t matter that she was the heir. Power or no powers…no one deserved that.”

“That’s politics for ya…” Nyx looked at him, “It was the same back home. Everyone has something to gain. Selena was just really good at seeing through the bullshit.”

“You knew Queen Selena? Were you her guard?” Gladio looked at him wide eyed.

“Something like that.” Nyx nodded as he leaned against the counter crossing his arms watching you and Noct, “They’re really close, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, after Noct’s mom passed, Y/N took him under her wing a little.” Gladio nodded smiling, “We were all going through something back then. Together we all kind of figured it out.”

“I’m glad to know that she’s got some support in this place when I’m not here.” Nyx rattled off absently.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gladio raised his eyebrows a little.

Nyx looked him and quickly smiled, “You know when she gets stressed and just needs someone to vent to. This paper she is working on…yeesh…”

It was a quick save this time and it answered more questions he had. You carried your burdens alone, but helped everyone carry theirs. He hoped he could help with the weight of yours.

He stood up straight when you hopped off the counter speaking to Noct, “Come now, I’m sure you’ll meet a wonderful young woman at the ball.”

“I’m 17…I don’t wanna think about marriage…” Noct stood up slowly sliding off holding the edge of the counter, “He’s practically arranged it anyway…”

“What? With who?” You crossed your arms looking at him, eyebrows coming together.

“Luna…” Noct blushed deeply.

“Well it’s not a terrible match.” You smirked a little, “She does like you…”

“She’s just so much older then me…” Noct rubbed the back of his neck.

“They say with age comes experience…perhaps she’s exactly what you need.” Noct groaned letting his head fall forward. You frowned before you stepped to him giving him a tight hug, “No matter what, Noct, trust your heart before your head and your decision won’t come back to haunt you.”

Nyx smiled a little as the prince hugged you back before Gladio pulled him back, “So you excited for this ball?”

“Ball? You mean we have to attend?” Nyx looked at him wide eyes.

“Oh dude…” Galdio winced at his reaction, “we should grab a drink later and talk. I’ll fill you right in.”

And they did…and Nyx was glad for it. Right after he called Drautos right after…

“Did you know about all this? They have protocol after protocol…” Nyx stopped looking both ways before crossing the street, “it’s like they want us to fail and make a spectacle of ourselves.”

“They do.” Nyx stopped balling up his hand as he listened, “Nyx we have no representation…we’re immigrants who only get to stay as long as we’re useful.”

“This isn’t how it should be…” Nyx sighed.

“Then do something about.” Drautos words sent him into instant anxiety.

“Titus…” Nyx couldn’t find the right words this time.

Drautos sighed before speaking, “I’ll reach out to Clarus to verify everything you were told by his son; it seems like he’s raised him to be like himself so hopefully he’ll be just as forthcoming. Thankfully we have few days and I can sort it all out.”

“Thank you…be safe on your way back home tonight.” Nyx told him.

“You as well sir.”

He hung up before he corrected him. Not that it would matter, Titus would always see him the same way. He managed to get everything arranged and set up correctly for the ball with Clarus' help.

He swore up and down that someone was supposed to have sent it over from the council meeting. No one was surprised the procedures didn’t find their way to their destination.

Despite that, Nyx stood outside your quarters waiting for you to finish getting ready for the whole damn thing. The past two days were not easy for you.

When you wanted peace and quiet someone always found you asking you questions about the ball. What you should and shouldn’t wear, hair style recommendations, make-up tutorials. You managed not to yell at any of the attendants, but Nyx could see how frustrated you were getting and with precision class you finally broke…

“You know what…I trust you to make the right decisions.” You placed your hands over the young woman’s hands. For the last two hours this young woman named Anita was bombarding you with everything, expressing how important this event was, “After all, you are the best at what you do Anita, and you wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me. I place everything in your exceptionally well manicured hands.”

“Really?” Nyx had to hold back his laughter from how giddy the Anita looked before she leaned forward hugging you tight, “I won’t let you down!”

“I’m sure you won’t.” You sighed as you watched her run off.

“I think you’re gonna live to regret that.” Nyx chuckled as you turned back to your book.

You gave him a look that spoke volumes more then this library could hold, “Of that I have no doubt. You have to pick your battles sometimes and this is one that I’m willing to give in.”

Nyx took in a deep breath trying to remember everything they had gone over in the briefing earlier. Exits in case of any situation, proper space between yourself and your charge, and uniform. He pulled at his collar again. He’d much rather be in the battle attire, but protecting a royal meant always looking good.

He came to attention as your door opened. You voice sounded exasperated, “Sorry…I don’t do the whole ball thing very well…and Anita went a little overboard I feel like…”

“It’s fine, I’m sure…” He turned his head to look at you and he found no words would ever adequately describe what he saw before him.

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conceptstage · 5 years

Text

People Like Us

AO3

Vex looked up when Taryon walked into the dining room that morning and frowned, seeing the hurried expression on his face. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, I just got word that a little girl was kidnapped in Kamordah, I don’t have anyone to spare to go look for her,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d go myself, but I need to be here when Jena comes back from her mission.”

Vex had come to visit him to get away from the others for a little while. She loved them, of course, but everyone was walking on eggshells around her and Keyleth. Kiki had dealt with it by just telling everyone off, snapping at them with tears in her eyes and then immediately apologizing. She seemed to feel better and the others left her alone more, so maybe that would have been the better idea for Vex as well. But Percy was so sweet and Pike was so kind and Grog was so… Grog. She just needed a break.

“I can go,” she said, taking a large bite of her hashbrowns and then downing her morning cup of beer. She jumped up to her feet and wiped her hands on her shirt. “Kamordah is just a day down the road, right?”

Taryon looked shocked. “Vex, I can’t ask you to do that. Your…” he paused and frowned.

“My brother’s dead. I know. I need something to do, Tary, I need something to work on. I love you, I do, but I’m going crazy just watching you work all day.” She kissed his cheek and smiled at him. “I’ll just be a few days. Give me the information on the girl.”

Vex took the letter that had been sent to Tary, donned her armor, and rode into the morning sun.

Kamordah was a nice enough town, Vex assumed, riding her horse through the streets. People gave her some space here, whereas in any Tal Doren town people would have flocked to see and talk to her. It was nice to have a bit of anonymity after such a quick rise to the spotlight. Keyleth would enjoy this, she should bring her along next time. The Voice of the Tempest didn’t get a lot of time to herself these days.

She steered her horse towards the estate indicated in the letter and was met by a butler, who took the letter inside as someone came from the stable to take her horse. The butler returned quickly and lead her into the magnificent house. It wasn’t quite Whitestone levels of extravagance, but she could see her younger self breaking into this place with her nearly identical partner in crime.

She was met in the living room by a lovely woman in possibly her mid twenties and a slightly older man in his early to mid thirties. The woman was dressed in the delicate fineries of someone who had never had to work a day in their lives and the man was in something a bit more practical, like he expected to do a lot of walking but no actual manual labor.

“You’re the mercenary?” the woman asked, giving her an unimpressed look over.

It had been a long time since she’d been called that. “Yes, Ma’am. Vex’ahlia.”

The man cleared his throat and stepped forward, shaking her hand sternly and staring directly at her soul through her eyes. “I am Sir Lionett, owner of Lionett winery. And this is my wife. Our daughter has been missing for three days.”

Vex blinked from his intensity and general lack of emotion. His daughter was missing, why did he seem so blase? “Your letter said you thought she kidnapped? Do you have any leads?”

The woman sighed and sneered at the archer in distaste. “No, I thought that’s what we were paying you for. Dear, just let the local guards handle it. I don’t like involving riffraff.”

Vex gave her best diplomatic smile. It was kind of refreshing, actually. No one at home told her the truth anymore, everyone just told her what they thought she wanted to hear. “Trust me, Madam, I’ll return your daughter. So you have no idea who might have taken her? Any enemies? Anything you can tell me about her? What’s the name?”

The woman sighed again and rolled her eyes. “You deal with this, Love, I’m going to get more wine.” Then she stood and left the room.

The man ignored his wife completely. “Her name is Beauregard. She’s four. I’ve no idea who might have taken her, she just disappeared from her room four days ago.”

Vex opened her mouth to ask another question and then frowned. “Did anyone see her get taken?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know she was taken? She might have just run away.”

The man gave her a smug look like he thought she was a simpleton. “No. That’s impossible. She knows better than that. She knows what would be awaiting her here if that were the case.”

Vex stared at him for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. May I look at the scene of the crime, please?”

The man nodded and waved at the butler that had brought her in. “Take her to Beauregard’s room. And watch her closely.”

The butler bowed and then started up the stairs. “Of course, Sir.”

Vex waited until there was no one looking at her to scowl. This entire situation was painfully familiar. She followed the butler up the room and he kept a close eye on her as she surveyed it. The room was spotless. “This is how it looked when you realized she was gone?” she asked.

“One of the tutors realized she was missing when she didn’t come to her afternoon lessons.” No one noticed before then? No one came to check on her in the morning, no one thought it was weird when she didn’t show up to breakfast? “The room had been cleaned by then. I’ve spoken to the maids that were assigned to this room that day and they said that there was nothing amiss, except the window was open.”

Vex sighed and pushed open the window, taking a deep breath of sweet, spring air. She frowned and turned to the butler. “You don’t actually think this was a kidnapping, do you?” she asked. The more she saw, the more certain she was that this was just a run away.

The butler finally showed a bit of emotion, frowning and looking down at his shoes. “Lady Beau… I would not doubt that she would do such a thing. She’s intelligent, beyond her four years. She’s willful and quick as a whip. And she’s unhappy here.”

Vex smiled softly at him. “You care about her, don’t you?” Of the three people she’d spoken too, it seemed this butler was the only one.

“All the staff do.” The butler cleared his throat and stared ahead, trying to mask his feelings. “Lady Beau deserves more,” he said quietly. “And she knows it. I would not be surprised if she ran away to find it, but I would never say so to the Master.”

“Free with his hands, is he?” Vex asked, sneering as she leaned out the window farther, looking down the wall. “No need to say it, I know the type.” The butler remained quiet. There was a trellis nearby, possibly how she got out without being seen. It wasn’t extremely close, it would have taken a good jump to get to it. It wouldn’t hold her weight but it could probably handle a child. She hopped up on the window sill, ignoring the butler’s cry of shock, and leapt over near it, hitting the ground and rolling easily back up to her feet. She looked the trellis over with a keen eye and spotted a vine that seemed to have been crushed by a tiny, bare foot. “Bingo,” she muttered, looking down at the ground under it and finding it disturbed.

“Ma’am!” the butler called from the window.

“I have tracks. Tell the parents I’m on the case and will be back shortly,” she called as she followed the tiny footprints down the side of the house and towards the dirt road. The tracks continued down the road for a while before breaking off into the trees. Vex followed them carefully. There were broken twigs and crushed mushrooms leading her on when the footsteps disappeared in the brush. It wasn’t far into the trees when she started to smell smoke. It was old, possibly hours old, doused when the sun had risen over the horizon. She followed it quietly, being careful that her weight didn’t snap a twig to alert the girl of her presence.

“Take that!” said a voice. “And that! En garde!” She smiled slightly as she peered around a tree to find a little, barefoot girl with brown skin and hair that were both covered in mud and leaves. She was holding a stick like a sword and fighting with a low hanging tree branch. There was an unlit campfire nearby, crudely made but functional, and a babbling brook with clear, cool water.

“Are you showing that tree whose boss?” Vex teased, tensed in case she tried to run.

The girl jumped and cried out in surprise, whipping around with the stick held out in front of her protectively. “Who are you!” she demanded. “What do you want?”

Vex held up her empty hands as she stepped closer, stopping when the girl took a step back and slowly lowering herself to sit. “My name is Vex. I was hired by your parents to find you. Beauregard, right?”

Beau sneered at her and didn’t lower her makeshift weapon. “I’m not going back. Tell that old man to shove this stick up his butthole!” then she threw the stick at Vex and turned to run into the trees.

Vex dodged the stick easily and dashed forward, running in front of her and holding out her arms. “Hold on, hold on! I just want to talk!”

Beau kept running towards her and Vex held out her arms, prepared to catch her, but the girl ducked down and slid between her legs, scrambling back to her feet on the other side of Vex’s body. Vex spun around and caught her under her arms, lifting her in the air while her feet kicked uselessly.

“Let me go! I’m not going back!”

Vex sighed and started walking her back to her little campsite. “Come on, we’re just going to talk.”

“Grown ups always say that but they really mean: listen to me while I yell at you and tell you you’re bad,” Beau grumbled, crossing her arms and sneering at the older woman.

“I’m not going to yell and you’re not bad. We’re just going to have a little chat, just you and me.”

“I’m going to bite you,” the girl said, matter-of-factly.

Vex laughed and sat her down on her feet by the tree she’d been fighting. “I have a pet bear who I raised from a cub, I can handle being bit.”

There was an instant change in the girl’s face and her eyes widened with wonder. “A pet bear?” she exclaimed. “Can I see it?”

“He’s back at my house on Tal Dorei right now protecting my husband. His name is Trinket and he is the very best bear in the world.”

Beau grinned. “I wanted a pet rat, but my mom made me get rid of it.” Vex would have liked to see that exchange. She imagined the stuffy, self obsessed woman from earlier screaming and jumping around at the sight of her daughter’s rat. “They’re actually super clean and neat, they’re not dirty and diseased like she said.”

“I know, darling,” she said quietly. She sighed and reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Beau’s ear. “And I know what you’re going through. You have been born into a family that does not appreciate you. They might never appreciate you.”

Beau sneered. “But they love me right? That’s what people say, they hurt you but they love you.”

“No, people don’t hurt people they love. I won’t tell you otherwise. But listen, okay? Someday, you’re going to make your own family.”

Beau’s sneer twisted up even more in disgust. “Like marriage? Egh, no thanks.”

Vex laughed and shook her head. “No, dear. Not like that. Someday you’re going to find a group of people who love you as much as any parents could love you. You will find people who don’t share your blood that will call you their sister. People like us, we have to build our families from scratch.” Beau frowned at her but there was hope in her eyes. Vex stood and held out her hand. “Come on. You can’t live out here, though I have to say I’m immensely impressed you’ve gone this long.”

Beau crossed her arms. “I could live out here forever if I wanted.”

“I’m certain that you could, you’re very resourceful.”

Beau seemed to consider her carefully for a moment and then reached out to take her hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

As Vex rode away from the house that afternoon, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t have left a four year old to live alone in the woods but maybe there was another option that she could have considered besides returning the girl to her parents.

She glanced over her shoulder and tried to find a face in a window. FInally, she caught Beau’s eyes. The girl was standing on the roof and when she saw Vex looking, she grinned and waved, ignoring the frantic maid calling at her to get down from there before she broke her neck.

Vex laughed and waved back before disappearing down the road.

#critical role #critical role fic #beauregard #vex'ahlia

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