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jasmineandhercrazylife · 2 years

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Daydreams

[Dream]

The door to the saloon jingled with chimes when Nick shoved it opened. Lively music blared from the stereo, but it did nothing to lift his downturned spirits. The place despite it location, was empty besides for him and the bartender, and he preferred it that way.

He dumped himself on one of the rickety barstools, mumbling his drink order to the bartender before resting his head in his hands. He was due back to a early train to Chicago tomorrow afternoon, a whole light years away from now.

Why he chose Boston out of all places to tour on vacation he didn’t know, it had been a train wreck from day one. First his baggage had been stolen in transit so he had to spend his first day talking with several employees who couldn’t care less, then he found out his city bus tour had been canceled out of the blue. The hotel he had rented a room from overbooked, forcing Nick into rush to find somewhere else to stay for the week, ending up in a crusted pissed stained room on the bad side of town with a no refund policy.

Three days into the trip and he wanted nothing more than to sulk into his bed at home and sleep off his final resting days before getting back on the job. Three long days…

The door jingled once again behind him, announcing that another patron had joined his sob session.

A lovey looking young lady wandered in with the longest set of luscious ringlets that Nick has ever seen. She had it styled to be cascaded down in waterfalls over her shoulders and onto her red skintight sparkling dress.

She cocked her hip to the side when she saw it was only him in the bar, her brown eyes purely centered on him. The way she strutted over made it seem like she was a runway model onstage, shoulders held high and hourglass hips swaying rhythmically from side to side.

The women slid onto a stool besides Nick, ordering “something girly and fruity,” from the bartender.

Her body leaned forward on the counter, the dress she was adorn in was offering more than an eyeful with its low cut almost nonexistent neckline.

Nick adverted his gaze, fixating instead on the television showcasing Bostons local news. To his dismay, it was the same old thing as it was back home. Gangs starting shootouts amongst civilians, dealers hooking and preying on kids, another dead officer found in a alleyway. Etc Etc Etc…

“You here to forget?”

“What’s that?” He faced the women who just spoke to him, eyes locked purely on her face.

She licked her lips, jerking her head at the television. “Are you here to forget all that? Take a moment for yourself?”

“Ah, well… I suppose so.” He answered politely, lighting a cigarette and leaning away in hopes she would take a hint and leave him alone. He’s was in no mood for socialization, even for a good looking dame. Besides, there was a look about her that seemed off to him.

No one gets that dolled up for a drink at a standard corner bar without specific intent, an intent he didn’t plan on engaging in.

Apparently the lady didn’t get the message. Her eyes continued to scan him over, picking him apart inside out. “Hmmm, you in the military? You are a little too well toned to be an average office worker.”

“I’m an officer, actually.”

“Oh?” She straightened up, tossing one leg over the other. A warm charming smile formed on her lips, showing off her set of pearly white teeth. “Well then, do you mind if I buy you a drink in thanks for your service?”

“That’s awful kind of you but really I shouldn’t, I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

The women scoffed at his timidness and smirked. “Oh come now, what’s one little drink before bed? You’re not a total lightweight, are you?”

Nick didn’t protest further, figuring he’d take one free drink and hold up his end of a conversation long enough before excusing himself to leave.

The bartender slid them each a glass, the women tittered and put hers to her lips that were painted the same shade of red as her dress.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss, I don’t believe you’ve given me a name.”

“The names Charlotte.” She announced with another twinkle. “No last name worth to speak of, and you?”

“Nick Valentine.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow inquisitively, putting her lipstick stained glass down.

“Don’t bother,” he waved off at her expression that he’s seen one too many times, “I’ve heard it all at this point.”

“I’m sure you’ve have.” She chuckled faintly.

“Yeah, the boys at the academy didn’t let me hear the end of it.” Whatever she had ordered for him was a little too strong for his liking, but he nevertheless drank every last drop.

“Well Officer Valentine,” she purred when she saw he had finished, “how about another drink on me?”

One drink turned into two, and two into four and so on while the stereo changed into slower, more sensual tunes for the late nighters.

Suddenly Nick didn’t feel so down and dumpy anymore. Now he felt a little lighter, a little drowsy but still lighter. The gal was good company, constantly smiling and nodding her head along, making one feel at ease.

“Oh my, it’s getting late,” Charlotte remarked lowly, twirling her last glass in her hand and staring out the window into the pitch blackness of the night. She made a slight pout as she leaned on the counter with her arms squished together in front of her, the cups of her dress teasingly overflowing and spilling out.

“I’ll walk you home.” Nick graciously offered, figuring neither of them could drive while intoxicated. That’s was if she had taken her own car, he’d gotten here by bus.

“Really? How gentlemanly of you.”

Nick hopped off the stool, almost losing his footing when he stepped on the floor for the first time in hours. Charlotte drunkenly chortled while he regained his balance. “Cmon tough guy, my apartment is just across the street.”

She took his arm and guided it to wrap around her shapely waist, hooking her own arm around his shoulder. Nick grunted in response, letting her lead him out into the chilled nighttime air of early fall.

He’s almost had forgotten how it felt to be so close to another human after being on his own for so long, the warmth and radiance of the proximity almost chanting and inviting him to draw closer.

As it turns out, she was not exaggerating in the slightest on the distance. Her apartment building was only a block away from the bar and it only took them a few minutes to reach it.

Would’ve taken them an even lesser amount of time if Nick didn’t need to stop every dozen or so feet to catch his balance, but they managed.

Charlotte unlocked her door on the uppermost floor, walking in with him still attached to her hip.

“Here we are…” She whispered slyly, clicking on a lamp that dimly lit up the entryway of her home. The low lighting casted ominous shadows off the furniture, making the room appear like an endless dark hole.

“Yeah,” he responded, his gut twisting in the way when something felt seriously off.

Charlotte turned around to gaze up at him with her twinkling face, her hands rubbing and digging into his shoulders, making Nick shudder. She then leaned upwards, her soft petite hands snaking their way up his neck to his face and cupping it.

Before he could process what was happening or even open his mouth to question it, Charlotte closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.

A voice deep inside his inebriated soul nagged at him to pull back, turn around and leave her there. He walked her home and made sure she was safe, that’s all he had felt obligated to do.

But in place of doing just that, Nick instead enveloped Charlotte in his arms, deepening their shared kiss while he caressed the soft plushness of her sides.

She in turn slung a leg around his hips and pulled him closer, making Nicks body automatically jerk and buckle forwards.

All too soon did his flame end the kiss, her smile twisting as she tugged on his tie to beckon for him to follow her into the bedroom.

[……….]

Next thing Nick knew he was shuffling in a entanglement of bedsheets and groaning at a wicker headache.

What the hell was going on?

He wasn’t bundled in the scratchy sheets of his rented hotel room, nor was he laying in his lonely twin sized bed at his studio apartment in Chicago.

Slowly, Nick cracked opened his eyes, lazily rolling his head to gaze around at the unknown yellow painted bedroom. It was decorated and embellished lavishly, whoever owned it had an obvious good amount of wealth.

Another humanly presence snuffed from besides him, making a startled Nick turn to face them.

The dame from last night, Charlotte, was laying besides him in a slumber on what he was assuming to be her bed. The saucy minx was completely in the nude with only the blanket to give her decency, her face half hidden behind a bundle of curls.

Nicks stomach dropped when he realized he was in his birthday suit as well. Oh what kinda trouble had he gotten himself into? He wasn’t the kind of man to ever throw himself into a one-nightstand, wasn’t the kind to bite when a fired up gal batted her eyelashes and puckered her lips.

Cursing, he flicked a burnt out cigarette butt out of his hand and across the room, getting himself out of the bed. He scrambled for his clothes that had been dispersed around the carpeted floor alongside a laced pair of panties and brassiere.

His hand rubbed his neck over a sore patch a skin, no doubt a bruised hickey that he’ll have fun hiding later. Evanescent flashes of drunken giggles and pleasured moans plagued his mind, causing Nick to dress himself faster.

Damned his drunk alter ego for stooping so low! He barely knew anything about this chick other than her name and the brand of lingerie she preferred. For all he knew he could be part of a whole harem of lovers or possibly worse, the “other man.”

He had just finished buckling his pants with a grumble when Charlotte stirred and yawned from the bed behind him.

“Nicky?” She drawled out in a alluring sing-song tone, followed by the sounds of sheets rustling and being aired out.

He didn't dare look back while he buttoned up his now wrinkled and shirt and slipped on his ruffled jacket. His feet carried him to and out the door, almost slamming it behind him while he adjusted his hat over his head. Perhaps it was considered rude to leave without a word or even his information if something resulted from this night, but he figured Charlotte could trace him down with his name and occupation alone.

And she wasn’t chasing him down either, not even shouting after him to stop. Judging by how set and prepared she was, it was a high probability that this was a regular Friday occurrence.

A janitor was sweeping the halls when Nick stepped out. He looked up from his dustpan and broom, appraising the other man with a raised eyebrow and a tsk of the tongue, as if the janitor knew about the events that had just unfolded.

“Ah, Char caught another stray in her fishing net, huh?”

Nick pounded down the stairs, tipping his hat to cover his face in burning shame and a newfound disgust for himself.

Never again.

[End]

“Nick?” A voice pulled him from the memory haze that he had been engulfed in, knocking him back into reality.

“Wha…?”

He surveyed his surroundings, acknowledging the lively chatter and the strong stench of alcohol and chems. Right… The Third Rail, Goodneighbor, the year early 2289, on the hunt for another missing person, as a synth, not human.

Nick shook his head, rattling down the final remains of flashback. He opened his mouth to respond to whoever had spoken, but clenched it shut when he was met with the same set of familiar captivating brown eyes staring curiously up at him.

Brown eyes… No it couldn’t be. He casted his head to the ground and rubbed his temples, the memory cutting into the corners of his vision.

Charlotte…?

“Nick?” The quiet voice tried again with a little wavering uncertainty.

“Huh? Oh, what’s the matter, kiddo?” He finally responded, turning to the teen girl who had apparently been trying to get his attention.

Jasmine merely blinked at him, her eyes blankly observing him up and down.

He felt something in him jostle with a weird sense of déjà vu while he stared down at the girl. The resemblance she shared to Charlotte was almost uncanny. In fact, he’d say outright a spitting image except for the obvious fact that Jasmine was much younger, childish, and brighter. But still, she had the same soft facial features, same golden skin tone, same big brown doe eyes…

But that’s impossible, right?

“You’re the one who’s been staring at the wall for the past hour,” she muttered while raising her arm, taking a long swig out of a glass bottle.

The detective immediately frowned with disapproval, pulling his hand away from his face so he could clearly read the labeling on the bottle. “Where’d you get that?”

Jasmine took another sip, her free hand vaguely gesturing across the bar to where Ham was in the process of dragging out yet another wasted drunk. “My reward from the bartender for putting that guy back in his place.”

Upon hearing that, he almost by cop instinct whirled around to place White Chapel Charlie under arrest for giving a minor alcohol. He stopped mid turn, reminding himself that this was Goodneighbor, so of course it was perfectly acceptable. Almost everything amoral flys ‘round here.

Still, he didn’t have to approve. And perhaps he could nag Charlie into not rewarding the teen with alcohol for their forthcoming visits. If that didn’t pan out, Hancock was a sure tell option if he used the right tone.

“Y’know why they didn’t let kids drink back in the day? It’s no laughing matter.”

Jasmine hummed absently at his words, tossing her braid over her shoulder and taking another sip while she watched Magnolia sing onstage.

Nick squinted in the dimmed lighting at her, noting that her flyaways and stray baby hairs did indeed have a slight swirl to them. Not an absolute giveaway, but still a small sign of another resemblance.

“You went over my notes?” She asked abruptly, her head snapping back to him.

“Huh? Oh right… your notes,” he muttered when it clicked, tapping the side of his head. “All stored here in the banks.”

Jasmine put her bottle down and tilted her head to the side, again apprising him up and down.

“Ack, sorry kid. I get these memory flashes periodically and it knocks me off my course.” The detective explained when he realized that the girl was confused on his inattentiveness. “This particular one was a little… uh, disconcerting compared to others.”

That was one way to put it, he’ll have to set a separate time to analyze it further once they wrap up this case. Might be a little difficult to starve off the curiosity until then, but he can manage.

Jasmine blinked again, clicking her tongue then nodded her head. “Okay then. Are you ready for Bunker Hill?”

“I’m all set, it’s starting to get stuffy in here anyways,” he answered with a smile, a little grateful that she didn’t press further. Although this kid hardly asked questions, preferring to just observe everything and everyone very closely.

Nick took lead up the stairwell of the joint, making another face of disapproval when he saw his young companion take another swing at her bottle.

“Alright, gimme that.” He reached back and snatched the almost empty bottle out of her hands, earning him a noise and glare of annoyance. “We can’t have you walking pie-eyed on the job. Lord knows I’ve dealt with enough wasted partners for a lifetime.”

I have to give thanks to @lucilleandherrobots for giving me this idea!!! :D

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raindownforme · 3 years

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These Four Years

Ted Nivison x reader [They/them x reader]

Second Semester Sophomore Year

“Okay, Theodore, I want you to move your hand a bit to the right.” Ted’s face grew pinker by the second as he followed the choreographer’s instructions. He gingerly laid a hand on y/n’s waist while the other gripped their hand tighter. y/n tried not to laugh at him, but it seemed to be the trickiest part of the job.

“I won’t bite.” Ted’s blush got darker and y/n laughed harder. The awkward boy had begun to grow taller than y/n now, just tall enough he had to lean slightly to make conversation.

“Shut up or I will.” The choreographer physically grabbed Ted’s hands and moved them around, doing the same with y/n.

“Now. Couples, we want our main characters highlighted, but not drowned out. Slow dancing, quiet conversation, and staying put. All good?” A chorus of highschool students shouted out in agreement. The choreographer nodded and the waltzy music started up again.

y/n swayed to the music, taking Ted with them. y/n swirled themself around and moved back and forth in their little square of dance room. They watched Ted stare at the ground, stepping on y/n’s feet. “Look up dummy. Look at me.”

“No. This is already as terrible as it can get.”

“It’ll only get worse if you don’t actually put attention. Look up.” y/n let go of Ted’s hand to very take Ted’s chin and guide it to where he was forced to look at them. His blush deepened. “There.”

“A-Alright.” Ted resumed the dance. He shuffled his feet around in a box formation, gently sliding around by the ball of his foot. Ted could hear the actors onstage talking and repeating lines over and over, but all he could focus on was how y/n hand felt in his. How close they were to him. How they swayed to the music and danced under the theatrical lighting.

“Ted? Buddy?” Ted snapped back into focus to see y/n stepping away from him slowly.

“Oh shit did I do something-?”

“No no. It’s just, there’s more dances to learn. What were you thinking about up there? So distracted.” y/n smiled sweetly at him. “Come on. New position.”

Ted allowed y/n to move around and reposition his hands and arms. He ended with his hands on y/n’s waist and y/n’s hands gently cupping the side of his face. The music picked up again and the stage lights changed to more purple and blue tones to set the mood.

“So, how’s your day?”

“Pretty average.” y/n glanced off to look at another couple dancing. “Watched a squirrel get run over.”

“By who?”

“City bus.” y/n spun both them and Ted around, flipping roughly 180 degrees.

“I think I was expecting a school bus instead.”

“No, they only kill rats.” Ted snorted, trying his best not to laugh at y/n’s remark. “Oh please that was not that funny.”

“I’m not trying to-“ Ted stumbled over himself, falling into y/n. “Shut up!”

“You shut up.” y/n tried to be quiet as they started laughing too.

“Alright everyone thats it for the day.” Everyone stopped dancing as the director made announcements on notes and areas that needed to be fixed, and congratulating everyone on an otherwise good job. “Be here 3:45 tomorrow. Sharp.”

Ted and y/n stood together as everyone walked towards the classroom behind the stage. They were still holding hands. “Well. Good night I guess.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Ted waited just a moment before letting go of y/n’s hand. He then walked into the back classroom, leaving y/n alone on the stage.

First semester of junior year

#ted nivison #ted nivison x reader #ted nivision #lunch club x reader #lunch club #smp live #smp live x reader #smplive #chuckle sandwich x reader #chuckle sandwhich x reader #chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich

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lovelylogans · 3 years

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honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, warnings, and notes here!

chapter three: psycellic consentia

psycellic consentia: psycellium (or psycelium) is a psychic nervous system that allows sensates to connect with one another. sensates have a solitary "above" existence, and are connected "below" via the psycelium. consentia, latin: knowledge shared with others, being in the know or privy to, joint knowledge; complicity; knowledge within oneself, consciousness, feeling.

ROMAN

It hasn’t even been five minutes since Sasha left to grab dinner, but Roman’s already feeling strangely jittery.

A nap would be a fruitless venture, he’s realized, so he’s gotten up to pace around the room, reciting the lines of the scene he’s meant to be filming tomorrow. He knows them all by heart, naturally, but it’ll be an odd scene to shoot anyways. His character, Pablo, would be escaping from the grasp of his friend-turned-betrayer (who would turn out to have been bluffing and truly Pablo’s friend all along by the end of the movie) by sprinting through the forest, making his getaway by leaping into a river and swimming away.

This stunt he doesn’t get to do; he’s already technically filmed the scenes when he’s in the water, and a stunt double will be “jumping off the cliff.” So tomorrow is going to be entirely on-location, acting then sprinting through the forest.

So Roman chants his lines to himself, pacing in his room with his eyes closed, trying his hardest to sink into Pablo’s mindset. And, after a few minutes of running his lines over in his head, it’s like he’s actually walking in the forest; the snap of a twig under his feet, the smell of leaves and dirt, the cooing of various birds.

Roman’s jaw drops, because—because no way. No way.

No fucking way is his brother standing there, with a bundle of twigs tucked up under his arms, staring at Roman the way a kid would stare at a particularly adventurous snail journeying along the ground.

Well, the way Remus would look at an adventurous snail, as a kid. Roman would have probably just fled the snail in favor of playing with wooden swords and rescuing imaginary damsels.

"Aw, c’mon, man, what the fuck," Remus grumbles, looking skyward as if asking for some kind of divine intervention, though Roman knows that's never been the case, much to their chronically Catholic abuela’s dismay.

She probably would have been pleased if Roman tacked on a God rest her soul there, but considering her abysmal reaction when her grandson decided to be an actor and an even worse reaction when her other grandson informed them all that he was, in fact, a grandson, he's never really wanted to please her anyway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Remus says tightly, dropping his bundle of twigs.

Remus. Remus is here. Or Roman is there? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, there he is. That’s Roman’s brother.

“What, are you trying to lure me in for the police to catch me? Because it’s not going to fucking work, Roman.”

God, he’s alive, he doesn’t look hurt, he’s—well, actually, Roman has no idea if he’s safe or not. He just kind of looks like he’s dirty, with scraggly hair and smudges on his face. This alone isn’t entirely unusual for Remus, but the amount of it is. But—he’s here. He’s alive. He has some form of shelter, he’s probably been eating, he’s okay—

“Or are you just here to—”

Roman staggers forward and flings his arms around Remus’ neck, hugging him as tight as he can, almost as if he can feel what Remus feels, the arms wrapping around his neck and the arms wrapping around his torso in kind, feeling echoes of what he does, and what Remus does, bouncing between like a seismic shock.

Across the world, Janus smiles in his sleep; Emile wiggles happily in his chair while waiting for his next therapy session; Patton grins at a wall about nothing in particular; Logan touches his own shoulders, blinking rapidly in surprise at the weight of phantom arms holding him close.

REMY

Remy is used to experiencing emotions that aren’t his.

When he feels a near-violent joy sprouting up in his chest, he pauses briefly in pouring a customer a cup of coffee to put a hand on his chest and smile to himself.

He’ll ask Emile what’s got him so happy later. He’s just happy that Emile is happy.

REMUS

Remus blinks at Roman after Roman pulls back from the hug, hands on his shoulders, still beaming at him.

“—For a while I thought that you were coming to stay at my apartment with me, but then you never showed, and I was worried sick wondering where you were all this time. I’ve been reading all about the case—oh, that doesn’t matter now, we’re together! Now you can come here to the city, and I can post your bail so you can stay with me, and I can get you a really good lawyer, and—!”

“You’ve been reading about the case?” Remus says, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.

Roman blinks at him. “Yeah?” There’s an unspoken duh in his tone.

“So you know that I’m the main suspect,” Remus prompts.

“Yeah…”

“So, you,” Remus says, “acting sweetheart of the nation with your dear fake girlfriend—you want to bring in a dirty gremlin accused of murder? The sibling the whole country doesn’t even know you have?”

Roman looks suddenly anxious, as if expecting Remus to blow up and yell at him.

“Do you even think I’m innocent?” Remus continues, only faking his bluster a little.

“I mean,” Roman says. “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Does what matter?” Remus says. The bluster is much more faked this time.

“I mean, you’re my brother,” Roman says. “I don’t really care if you killed him or not.”

Remus bursts out laughing.

Roman gawks at him, caught off guard, and Remus doesn’t know if it’s just from seeing Roman again, or the fact that he’s been on the run for over a week now and has only been eating the plants a hallucination taught him about, or what, but the expression on his face is just too good.

Roman! Who regularly gets caught in the tabloids! Getting a snapshot of him escorting a man wanted for murder into his warm, loving home! The mental image of the shocked expression on any pap’s face is just—oh, it would be so perfect.

“And your ‘girlfriend?’” Remus says, using air quotes. “Does she know about me?”

“No, but,” Roman says, still with that stupidly heroic, determined look on his face. “I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her tonight, even. She’ll understand.”

Right. If anyone else was as much of a media darling, it was Roman’s fake girlfriend, with her big, brown, innocent eyes and absolute inability to seem like she’s used to being famous.

“Oh, that’s too good,” Remus chortles. “Yeah, Roman. Okay. Sure. You go ahead and tell her.”

“I’m gonna!”

“Sure, fine,” Remus says, waving him off. “Make arrangements to bring your murderous brother home. I’ll catch a bus or something, I’m sure no cop is gonna see me and arrest me on the way to your apartment.”

“I will,” Roman says, firm and resolute, and Remus just shakes his head, grinning still.

Of the pair of them, people seemed to think Remus was the crazy one when it was clear that Roman was absolutely bonkers. But at least he’d grown a pretty good sense of humor since Remus had been accused of killing someone.

JANUS

“Fucking finally, Jazza.”

Janus considers getting up and walking right back out, but unfortunately, his stomach is already set on fish and chips with the made-in-house sauce here. He wearily begins to weigh the costs of putting up with Key and the nickname “Jazza” against the benefits of sriracha aioli.

And money. The money ends up winning out every time.

Three more jobs, Janus tells himself. Just three more jobs, and then you don’t have to put up with the risk anymore. Two, if one of them has a bigger compensation than average, and for the quality of my work...

It’s a lie, of course. Janus has been telling himself three more jobs ever since he clawed his way onto the bar standards board, years ago.

“What’s been going on with you, anyway?” Key says around a mouthful of chips, which garbles his speech beyond recognition. Unfortunately, Janus has known Key long enough that he can translate it with ease.

“Chew with your mouth closed and clean up your face,” Janus says, unable to stop himself. Habits are difficult to kill, Janus supposes.

Key rolls his eyes but obligingly blots at his face with a napkin. “D’you got it?”

Janus offers a small box wrapped like a present in answer. Inside is a hard drive containing the information their client had requested.

Key takes it, grinning, and stuffs it into his hoodie pocket.

“Be careful with that,” Janus scolds.

“You say that every time,” Key says. “Have I ever lost one of your—”

Janus glares at him.

“—one of the fruits of your labor?” Key says, quickly back-pedaling, realizing they’re in a public setting and a waitress is fast approaching with Janus's order.

“This smells amazing.”

Janus tries his best not to startle, but even with two days to process what the man in his mirror had told him, it’s still bizarre.

The actor beside him looks briefly embarrassed as if he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Janus glances over at him—a member of his cluster, what an unappealing word—and sees a glimpse of a cramped little trailer. On a movie set, probably? He’s wearing leather pants and a leopard-print shirt that Janus has the feeling he’d never wear in real life.

Janus also feels the grumbling in Roman’s stomach. Janus sighs to himself.

“And another basket of chips with extras of that same sauce, please.”

“You got it, lovey,” she says, turning to go.

“Extra hungry, then?” Key says.

“Something like that,” Janus says neutrally. Without asking for Janus's permission—maybe knowing Janus was about to offer anyway—Roman reaches out and gulps deeply from Janus's Ribena.

“How’s,” Janus says, briefly casts about in his mind for the name of the latest love of Key’s life, and lands on, “Francesca?”

Key snorts. “Ancient history, mate.”

Not exactly surprising. Key’s always fancied himself a romantic, but he’s never been able to follow through on his commitment to anything ever.

“M’goin’ on a date with a bird tonight, though,” he says around a mouthful of chips.

“For God’s sake, Key, could you at least pretend you weren’t raised in a barn?” Janus snips at him, even as he’s dunking his own chips into the aioli.

Key grins at him, and Janus wrinkles his nose. He can tell Roman is doing the same beside him. They share the same sentiment at the moment, but it’s Roman’s “that’s disgusting” that falls out of his mouth.

He realizes why Key’s brow furrows a moment too late.

“Uh, bless you?” Key says; the closest he’s ever been to the Mexican vernacular of Spanish is ordering a fajita at a local Tex-Mex restaurant.

“Oops,” Roman says, not particularly apologetically. He grabs another handful of chips.

“I’m studying in my spare time,” he says and fixes Key with a look. “A hobby you could choose to emulate.”

“What’d I need more school for?” He scoffs. “Ten years was well enough.”

“To aspire for more for yourself—”

“Oh, here we go,” Key snaps, tossing down the piece of battered cod he was about to eat, splattering sauce on the wood table. “I am so sick of your “high and mighty” act.”

He mimics Janus's accent at high and mighty; Janus grits his teeth, and very purposefully enunciates his next few sentences.

“This cannot last forever, you understand.”

“No, just so long as you get rich off it, eh?”

“Um,” Roman says. “I’d offer to go and leave you two to duke this one out in private, but I’m not really sure how to stop this weird astral projection thing—”

Janus ignores him.

“Oh, as if being a lawyer doesn’t pay enough. Put your brain to some use and think, why is it that I keep helping you?!” Janus snaps, leaning across the table and softening his voice. “Why on earth do you think I continue with this?!”

“Spare me,” Key scoffs.

“The only reason I keep doing this is because you keep doing this,” Janus hisses. “The only reason I became a lawyer was because of you getting us into trouble.”

“Don’t—” Key says, his face twisting up.

“It is because of me we are not rotting in jail, Quirinus. I’m sure it’s such a burden I want more for you.”

“It’s Key,” he grumbles before he rolls his eyes at Janus and tilts his baseball cap at him in farewell. “And since you have aspired to more for yourself, and since being a big fancy lawyer does pay so much, and since you saved me,” this is said with heavy sarcasm, “you fucking prat, you can get the bill. Much obliged, big brother.”

As he walks off, he tosses a “wanker” over his shoulder for good measure, jamming his orange cap onto his head.

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.

There’s a pause.

Then: the slurping of someone draining his Ribena.

Janus opens his eyes and turns his head to Roman, who’s chasing the last drops of Ribena about the glass with a straw.

“So, he’s probably not finishing that, right?” Roman says. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs a handful of chips and shoves them into his mouth. “‘Cause I’ve been waiting for Sasha to come back with dinner for like an hour now and I’m starving,” he says loudly while chewing.

Janus's jaw is slightly unhinged.

“You are a pestilence upon my life,” he says at last.

Roman smirks at him, mercifully close-mouthed, and swallows down the food that Janus supposes he’ll be paying for. Janus is certain that Roman is doing this to annoy him.

“Wait ‘till you have to deal with my brother.” He dunks the cod into the sauce. “Also, how much do you know about what’s going on here, anyway? Why do random people keep popping into my life?”

Janus lowers his voice so they aren’t heard by any random passerby.

“Allegedly, we are known as sensates. I assume you’ve been seeing other people—we’re stuck seeing them psychically for the rest of our lives, as well as sharing specific skills, languages, emotions…”

Roman reaches for Key’s Ribena and drains that too.

“Tastes,” Janus adds pointedly. “That the other is paying for.”

“Yeah, exactly, you’re paying for it,” Roman says, and grabs another piece of cod. “It won’t go to waste now.”

“You won’t even get the nutritional benefits of eating food,” Janus says. “You’ll just get the taste of it.”

“Still, you’re getting your money’s worth. I’m helping.”

“Aren’t you rich?” Janus says. “Being an actor and all.”

“Aren’t you?” Roman counters. “Being a lawyer and all.”

Roman jams the cod into the ramekin of sauce.

“Either way, this place sure won’t take pesos, and it’s not like I can psychically transfer you money. Hey, how much do you know about Mexican law, anyways?” He takes a massive bite.

Janus puts his face into his hands for a few moments, before he reaches into his messenger pad and pulls out a legal pad and pen.

“Enough,” he says grudgingly—truthfully, not quite as much as English law. However, with this whole connection thing, they do share knowledge, so he certainly knows more now than he did before. He gestures at the waitress for another couple of Ribenas. “Why don’t you refresh me on the details of your brother’s case?”

PATTON

Patton frowns, tapping his pen against his chin as his kindergartners are all sprawled out on their mats for their post-lunch nap. He usually takes advantage of this time to catch up on marking (normally, just putting “good job!” stickers on their papers, they’re five) but right now he’s staring at something he’d written down out of the blue and trying to understand it.

He knows that he’s technically a sensate now, but does that mean his kindergartners are going to have to put up with scrawlings about Mexican flora when Patton had meant to be writing down the activities of the day?

“Aw, jeez,” someone grumbles, and Patton turns to look over his shoulder.

He grins sheepishly at the sight of an academic article plastered over with shiny star stickers. “Oops.”

The man is familiar and yet not; Patton doesn’t think he’s seen this one outside of briefly popping in and out.

The man sighs, turning the paper over and then looking back at Patton.

“At least they’re purple,” he grumbles, and within a heartbeat, he’s gone. Patton returns his attention to his marking.

Oh, yay, he did end up putting stickers on the kiddos’ papers!

LOGAN

Not many people were particularly aware of this, especially considering the average population was generally unaware of the space research in Antarctica, but the cafeterias here are actually excellent.

In the history of Antarctic explorers and researchers, it had gone quite differently—Ernest Shackleton and Tom Crean ate seal, dog meat, and biscuits mixed with melted snow during the Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914—but chefs now seem to view it as an intriguing challenge, a way to sharpen their skills.

Logan is an adequate enough cook, to the point where he can feed himself at home, but the food here is on another level. He’s finishing off his dessert, a lovely chocolate tart when a chef sits across from him at the dinner table, the same one that had served him his tray tonight.

He doesn’t know her well, so he hopes he’s disguised her squint at her nametag under the guise of adjusting his glasses.

“Very well done, Dot,” he says, lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Oh, good, you are one of us,” she says, with a level of relief that seems odd for hearing a compliment about her cooking. “I was wondering, Casimire gave me the oddest look when I told him to head off early so I could make eye contact with you.”

“What are you—?” Logan says, eyes narrowed, before his eyes flash to the kitchen, automatically looking for Casimire, the chef he’s most used to seeing.

True enough, Casimire isn’t there.

But Dot is here.

Dot is here twice.

Dot is sitting at the table with him. But Dot is smiling and chatting with one of the marine biology research team members, ten feet away. But—

“Oh, I can hear that brain working,” Dot says. She reaches out to pat his hand; it feels as warm and real as a hand can feel.

“What is this,” Logan forces through numb lips, appetite gone, chocolate tart entirely forgotten. “What are you—what is happening—?”

“Shh, shh, not too loud,” Dot says in a hushed voice. “To everyone else, it looks like you’re sitting alone. Here—you’ve got your bag with you, did you pack your earpiece?”

Logan nods.

“Put that in.”

He does as she says. What else is there to do?

The Dot in the kitchen turns to wink and smile at him reassuringly. He isn’t sure how to tell the Dot before him that there is absolutely nothing in this situation that could comfort him, and pointing out that there are two of her and that he is seeing things is not a particularly good way to go about it regardless.

He fumbles with the earpiece a few times, but he puts it in and clicks it on.

“There,” she says in satisfaction. “Now it’ll look like you’re talking over Bluetooth. Neat little trick, isn’t it? Keeps us from looking,” and she circles her ear with her finger and gives a two-note whistle, the universal sign for off your rocker. “I’m surprised your parent hasn’t taught you yet, but I suppose you are very new. Has your migraine stopped yet?”

Logan gawks at her. “How did you know I have a—?”

“Because I had one too when it all started,” she says. “All of us do. Let me tell you, I really wasn’t expecting to see a sensate down here, but I guess when you come to a place like this nothing should surprise you, right? That’s what my Larry said. But this’ll be handy, he was hoping I could meet a nice scientist to connect to the Archipelago! You’re an astronomer, right? That’s a very brainy subject.”

“Wait, go back,” Logan says. “How did you know I have a migraine? Why are you talking about my mother? Why should she have taught me about using Bluetooth? What does a group of islands have to do with anything, and what’s a sensate?”

The smile on Dot’s face slips.

“Oh dear,” she says. “Oh dear, you don’t know anything at all, do you?”

Logan gives her an offended look before he can really stop himself.

“Well,” Dot says thoughtfully. “A scientist. I bet you’d be really interested in the opportunity to send a question around the world within seconds, wouldn’t you?”

“Google exists,” Logan points out.

Dot smiles at him. “Where do you think they got the idea? Sapiens invented it in the 1990s; we’ve had it since the Neolithic.”

Against his better judgment to stop listening to what is most likely to be a hallucination, Logan finds himself very intrigued.

VIRGIL

Virgil is elbow-deep in papers about abrus precatorius, sorting them into piles for useful information or irrelevant when there’s the sound of someone hitting their knees beside him.

Virgil jumps, startled, and looks into the stunning blue eyes of Logan, the handsome Pole in Antarctica. His eyes are bright, eager, excited, and there’s a wide smile on his face.

“We’re not hallucinating,” he declares and spreads out an armful of his own notes; hastily taken, from the look of it, and he presses his fingers against an earpiece that’s blinking blue light. “Oh, and get one of these, by the way, technology has apparently made things much better for us, Dot said we’d get burned during the witch trials because we’d be talking to people who weren’t there and knowing things we shouldn’t know, but I think that’s an exaggeration. I wish there was a more central written history, but I suppose we’ve evolved in a way that word-of-mouth knowledge is the most efficient, haven’t we?”

There’s a lot of thoughts whirling around Virgil’s head—what do you mean, how do you know, why are we talking about witch burnings and evolution—but what comes out, a bit stupidly, is “You look good.”

Logan’s rambling stops in his tracks as he stares at Virgil, bemused, mouth slightly ajar.

“Um, I mean,” Virgil says. He coughs. “You look… less worried than last time. Which is. Good!”

Logan keeps staring. With his lips parted like that, it’s all too easy to see that Logan must have licked them, recently; the sheen of it catches Virgil’s eye. He stares at Logan’s mouth. He stares at Logan.

Stop it stop it stop it he’ll think you’re weird, something in his brain shrieks, and that breaks the spell.

“So, uh, you’ve figured out what’s happening to us?” Virgil prompts.

Logan shakes himself, before he spreads out his papers, picking up one in particular. Virgil takes it, examining it; it’s two sketches of a brain. He’s familiar enough with biology by virtue of having doctors for parents to know that the sketch on the right side of the paper is not right.

There’s something wrong with this brain.

“This,” Logan says, tapping the leftmost brain with his finger, “is the typical human brain.”

“Right, yeah,” Virgil says, frowning, and points to the rightmost brain. Their hands almost touch. “There’s something wrong with this one—something about the hemispheres, I think? It’s like there’s a growth.”

Logan moves to point to the rightmost brain, and this time, their hands do brush. But, before Virgil can think anything about it other than his hands are soft and he feels a little cold—

“This is what our brains are becoming.”

Virgil immediately panics.

“But it’s okay!” Logan says quickly as if he’s able to tell. Maybe he can—Virgil isn’t sure how clear it reads on his face. Or maybe, the way he’s been laughing at nothing or frowning at thin air, Logan can feel it. “It’s okay, it’s totally natural for us. For homo sapiens, no, but for homo sensorium—”

“Homo sensorium?” Virgil repeats, brow furrowed.

“It’s what we are,” Logan says. “Scientific name homo sensorium, colloquial name sensate.”

Sensate. Virgil hears the word, and something slips in place in his mind—it’s as if he’s heard that term before. It feels like breathing in a whiff of air and catching the scent of a sweet that sends your memory careening back to a time when you were seven and elbow-deep in dough with your grandmother. But it’s like he can’t quite fully grasp the memory. Something niggles just at the edge of it. It’s like his brain is trapped on the grandparent metaphor because he cannot stop thinking about his mother’s mother.

He sets the memory aside, for now; he’ll have time to think of it later.

Because, as Logan explains everything he’s learned so far, Virgil has absolutely zero chance of thinking about anything else.

They spend most of the night talking about it. Even with all the bizarre aspects of what this new information brings, it’s easy to talk to Logan in a way that isn’t typical of Virgil speaking with other people. Virgil isn’t sure if that’s because they share this psychic connection, or if they’re both doctors, or if it’s some other connection.

“The way it was phrased is that we’re different types of human, but I don’t think we’re so different that it sets us apart from other people. From what I understand, the growth of our population is primarily due to epigenetic factors…”

Okay, so, primarily due to how behaviors and environments affect his genes. But what epigenetic factor triggered this in Virgil? Was this a dormant thing that could be triggered by ingesting some sort of chemical, or was it due to the way Virgil behaved? Had he done something in his life to cause all of this?

“A lot of the science is conjecture,” Logan warns, “and there was apparently some big corporation intent on doing medical experimentation on us ten or so years ago, but that’s mostly handled, you just have to be more careful about making eye contact with strangers in public…”

Oh, great, scientists hunted them down for medical experimentation so now he had to closely guard himself in any hospital! What a thrilling thing to hear for the son of two doctors!

“I’ve gathered that we can “share” certain skills or memories and that these things will become easier with practice. That’s why I could speak Xhosa and you Polish when we first met, it was the skill-sharing attribute, which could certainly come in handy for several reasons, but I also understand that we can visit each other at various times. There’s apparently a medicine you can take to block it, but it’s rather rare to come by, so unless you know a pharmacist willing to do some work under the table…”

That would almost definitely come to bite one of them in the ass at some point. What about privacy? Was he just doomed to have people from all over the world pop in on him while he’s in the shower or something?

“Dot said that she met her husband Larry through the connection, which drove off into a whole side-tangent. Apparently, romantic partners in clusters—that’s the widely accepted term, ‘cluster.’”

Virgil pulls a face.

“I know, they could have picked literally any other more appealing word for it, couldn’t they? Bunch, group, flock, clique, assemblance—Anyways, romantic partnerships within clusters are somewhat common, and most of the sensate community finds it quite normal. I think our parent is in one, or at least that’s what Dot said.”

Logan clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Apparently some of the old-fashioned sensates think it’s like—what was it Dot’s parent said?—”the worst sort of narcissism.” Apparently, her parent was very displeased to be a parent and wanted nothing to do with creating bonds. I personally think that’s a rather backwards—humanity survives and thrives due to its ability to create bonds and care for each other—but I suppose I tend to think that way about a lot of old-fashioned things.”

“I guess I do, too,” Virgil muses aloud.

They sit quietly, for a while, so quietly that Virgil doesn’t notice when Logan slips away; the only thing that does bring him back from his swirling thoughts is when a voice breaks Virgil’s silence. It sends the emotions of knowing what’s happening to him shattering to the ground.

“Who on earth are you talking to?”

#my fic #my fanfic

9 notes · View notes

red-as-mars · 3 years

Text

Speechless

Saeyoung Choi x F!MC

Word count: 4K+

Summary: In which Saeyoung meets the girl of his dreams... but she thinks he’s a girl.

A beautiful stranger looks at him from afar. Saeyoung noticed her since the moment she came into Jaehee’s cafe, as she unknowingly sat down at the table next to Saeran. His ears captured the melodic tone of her voice after she stood up to order a bubble milk tea and a waffle, just as he did one hour before. Hearing her laughing with Jaehee makes his curiosity spark, but something is stopping him—the emptiness in his stomach is not normal, not after gulping down several milk teas just to keep himself busy. Suddenly the air conditioner of the cafe is not enough. As he is about to run a hand through his hair, a guy sits right in front of him.

Suddenly, he remembers they are not the only ones in the cafe and that he almost, almost, messes up the wig he spent several minutes putting on—with the help of Saeran, much to the latter’s despise. He changes the route of his hand midair and awkwardly moves to grab his bubble tea, just to notice that there is nothing left. He smiles at the guy in front of him to try and erase whatever weird actions he had done as he thought about the stranger. There’s a light blush covering the guy’s cheeks and he can barely make eye contact with him.

“Noona, do you want me to buy you more bubble tea?” asks Yoosung, suddenly appearing by his side. He is way too happy to monetize from his ‘noona’ to notice how distracted Saeyoung is. He nods without truly understanding what the youngest told him, but he doesn’t care. All his energy is being used on trying to focus on the guy in front of him rather than on the pretty stranger, who is back at the table sipping from her drink.

“Saeyoung, I have been a fan of yours for a long time. Your cosplays are so amazing… and you are… so beautiful… I mean, you have set the bar too high! There’s no way I can go out with other girls knowing that you are my ideal type… so… will you be responsible for my singleness?”, says the guy way too fast for Saeyoung to understand him.

It takes him a moment to realize what he has just been told and, as soon as he gets it, he can’t help but furiously blush. No matter how long he has been cosplaying, hearing things like that still makes him uncomfortable, mostly when he knows that the girl they claim to love was born out of his will to mess up with Yoosung. He never thought that a simple joke could get this far—sure, he used a Tripter bot to gain several followers, but who would have thought that he would remain popular with the bot gone?

Just as the guy he was talking to, others had come to see him… her… and they were patiently waiting for their turn while ordering food and drinks. Even though she was against the idea of holding a LOLOL event in her café, Jaehee now seemed happy with the decent amount of customers giving her money while waiting for a chance to talk with pretty Saeyoung. No matter how embarrassed he was with all the attention, he had to act cool as the customers were focused on everything he said. He remembered Yoosung’s motivation before the event started (“Hyung, I am counting on you!”), and that was enough to encourage him to reply.

“Oh my, what are you talking about? There are plenty of girls more beautiful than me out there. I am nothing in comparison,” he replies in a cheerful, slightly playful, tone. Just as Yoosung comes back with his bubble tea, he manages to hear Saeran chuckle. As his attention moves to his twin, he locks eyes with the pretty stranger and his mind goes blank. There’s a light blush spread across the girl’s cheeks and it only makes her look more gorgeous. He knows she heard him when her lips break into a slight smile. He can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking, “but I really appreciate your words! They mean a lot, so thank you for coming to see me!”

He doesn’t really get embarrassed when posing as a girl, but there are some factors making him feel insecure. He can’t help but feel Jaehee slightly judging him as he unconsciously flirts with the guys. Or Saeran smirking as he writes down things to later tease him. Or Yoosung saying ‘noona’ every time he gets a chance just to remember the guys that they are close. Or how the stranger keeps on glancing at him every 2.35 seconds with a curiosity-filled gaze, making feel trail off mid-sentence. His nervousness is a vicious cycle. The more nervous he gets, the more flirty stuff he says while thinking of the stranger, but… as long as he can look at her, he doesn’t mind.

Even if that means being teased for the rest of his life.

______________________________________

Almost two hours later, the café is empty except for the beautiful stranger who remains seated a few tables away from him. As the number of customers decreased, she stopped gazing at him and instead focused herself on the screen of her computer, headphones covering her ears, as she slightly moved her head to the rhythm of the music. There are no more gazes, no more blushes, no more hearts skipping a beat or two—Saeyoung can’t help but feel like he’s missing something, but can’t he be more silly? Missing something he never had.

They are just strangers who happen to be at the same place at the same time. Tomorrow morning, she will have forgotten about him and keep on going with her life. There’s no way they are randomly meeting again in a city as big as Seoul. She must live near the café, but his apartment is on the other side of the city, near the river. Seeing her again would be more like a miracle.

“I didn’t think a lot of people would be interested in this kind of event,” says Jaehee, finally taking a seat next to Saeran after making drinks non-stop for three hours, “but I think I sold more than average.”

“Never underestimate the power of LOLOL!” says Yoosung, as if he didn’t just monetize from other people’s fantasies in the name of his guild.

“...or a wig…,” adds Saeran, drinking from his cup of black tea.

Saeyoung can’t help but glance at the stranger, but she is too busy on her work to hear what they are saying. He feels slightly relieved, as taking down his wig right now would only make things awkward. He doesn’t mind bearing with the itchiness on his scalp as long as he can keep on looking at her, the way she pouts as her fingers stop smashing the keys, the way her brows furrow as she unconsciously licks her lips, the way her eyes shine after blinking several times…

All her actions stop as her phone rings. She quickly picks up the call and a warm feeling invades his stomach as he listens to her voice once more. The warmth quickly goes away as he hears her say “I’ll be there in an hour”, collecting her stuff as she thanks Jaehee for her service. Before she reaches the door, she stops and with her, Saeyoung’s heart. What is she doing? Is she missing something? Or… no, that’s not possible. She turns around, takes a napkin from the counter and leaves the café.

Immediately, Saeyoung smashes himself against the table.

“…are you okay?” says Saeran, although his voice holds anything but worry. At this point in his life, Saeran is used to Saeyoung’s sudden actions so he’s rarely surprised by whatever his twin does. Was he okay? Well, he just missed the opportunity to speak with the prettiest girl he has ever seen… He barely manages to give Saeran a thumbs up.

“Oh no, the girl left some stuff…” says Jaehee, slightly worried. Without thinking about it, Saeyoung stands up and the next thing he knows, he’s standing right in front of the table where the beautiful stranger sat. He ignores the suspicious looks of his friends as he looks at what she left: her transportation card and… one of the banners they made for the event, featuring Saeyoung’s most-liked Instagram post. Surprisingly, his face is surrounded by hearts and he can’t stop his cheeks from burning.

Saeran takes the paper from his hands and looks at it, then at him. “...guess she came to see you.”

“What?! But she didn’t come close to her… him!!!” exclaims Yoosung, looking at the banner with his eyes wide open.

“Maybe she was shy. I mean, it is always intimidating to talk to someone you admire,” shares Jaehee knowingly.

Saeyoung is barely listening to them. His mind is focused on the hearts surrounding his face, triggering the memories of their discreet eye contact, the blush on her face as they looked into each other’s eyes from afar… His heart starts beating like crazy, skipping more than a beat. A sudden wave of adrenaline invades his body as he realizes something.

“So… this pretty girl… actually came… to see… me?” he asks, although he already knows the answer. Listening to the confirmation of his friends is enough to give him back his confidence. He puts on his coat as he takes the transportation card and the banner from Saeran’s hands.

“Wait—where are you going? You better not do something weird to her!” exclaims Jaehee.

“What do you mean weird? She’s not going anywhere without her transportation card, so I’m giving it back to her,” he replies as he storms out of the café. Before crossing the door, he adds “It’s just a girl helping out another girl!”

And he ventures into the coldness of the night.

______________________________________

Although there are a few bus stops near Jaehee’s café, Saeyoung is lucky enough to find her at the nearest stop. She’s waiting there with one hand hidden in the pocket of her coat and the other one holding her phone. As he gets closer, he can clearly see several pictures of him on her screen. He suddenly feels hot as he realizes that she’s looking at the pictures he’s tagged at, most of them from today’s event. He feels some warm weight on his stomach, just as if a cat had fallen asleep on his tummy.

He stands right behind her without moving, carefully thinking about the best way to approach her as he doesn’t want to mess up this opportunity. Just as he gathers enough courage to talk to her, a pair of buses arrive and the beautiful stranger looks up from her phone to get in one. Before she can walk closer to her transportation, Saeyoung quickly puts his hand on her shoulder to stop her from going away. She immediately turns around in surprise, red tainting her cheeks as she locks eyes with him.

“Wait—I mean, uhm, sorry if I startled you,” he slightly laughs, trying to compensate for the awkwardness of his actions, “it’s just that you forgot this at the café.”

He gives her the transportation card and as she is about to thank him, he shows her the banner with his face surrounded by the cutest doodles he has ever seen. The pretty stranger stumbles over her words as her cheeks and ears burn red from embarrassment. Before she can justify herself, the bus closes its doors and begins its journey. Saeyoung is in shock. Did he just make her miss her bus? He begins to apologize, but the stranger laughs it off.

“Don’t worry, there’s another one coming in about… ten minutes, I guess? I just have to wait for it,” she says and Saeyoung can’t help but think that her voice sounds ten thousand better when she is talking to him, “Thank you for bringing it to me. I don’t know what I would have done without it.”

That’s a lie, of course. Saeyoung knows it pretty well. She would have to pay the driver in cash and, maybe tomorrow, buy another one at the nearest convenience store. Nothing bad would have happened if she missed the card—someone else could be using it—and that made him feel worse, after making her miss her bus. Yet here she is, smiling gently at him as if somehow she was glad of having to wait some minutes for the next bus.

“I guess I will wait for you, then. I mean, if you don’t mind,” he manages to suggest calmly, although he is nervous inside, “It is already dark and there are not many people left. I would be preoccupied leaving you here.”

He is not saying the truth, but he is not exactly lying. He is just omitting information to avoid looking like a creeper. I want to talk to you for a little bit longer, is what he actually wants to say, but there’s no way he’s actually saying it. Not without blushing extra hard. When she accepts his company, he just stands by her side, trying hard to focus on what to say and not on how fast his heart is beating. She is the first one to talk, formerly introducing each other. Saeyoung can’t help but keep on repeating her name in his mind, enjoying how each letter combines into making the most pleasing sound he has ever heard.

“I, uh, well- I, ah,” he doesn’t really know how to start talking to her, not when she is looking so endearingly at him, ”I was just wondering why… why didn't you come to take a picture with me… when you were already there…”

The beautiful girl blushes slightly, gazing at her feet.

“I didn’t expect a lot of guys to be there. I thought there would be at least another girl besides you and me, but there wasn’t. Well, except for the owner, I mean,” she admits, playing with her phone in her fingers, “I thought it would be weird to be the only girl approaching you, so I waited until the guys were left to do it, but I got really shy at the end.”

Saeyoung’s heart is beating even faster than before. He can’t believe what he is actually hearing, but even though they just met, he trusts in her words, so his confidence increases.

“Well, you can’t go home without completing your mission, right?” he says while taking her phone away from her fingers and opening the camera. He positions himself beside her and makes a half-heart with his free hand. She looks at him in awe, clearly shocked at his actions, but doesn’t follow him. “Really? You are going to leave my heart waiting? Come on, people are staring at me weirdly.”

And that is enough to make her move. Their fingers faintly touch each other, but that’s enough to send warm waves through his body. He can’t help but wonder if she’s filling it too or if he's just crazy. All his happiness disappears as soon as he sees himself on the screen. He manages to snap the picture before his smile collapses, reminding himself that currently, he’s not yucky Saeyoung, but pretty Saeyoung, and that means the beautiful girl is interested in her, not him. However, there’s something about the glow in her eyes as she thanks him for the picture that makes him decide to ignore it and continue as it is. She asks for her Instagram username before the bus arrives. She’s quick to search herself on his phone, and waves goodbye before the bus departs.

Saeyoung is left alone at the bus station with his phone in his hand, looking at the feed of the girl. Somehow, when he sees her warm smile through her pictures, he doesn’t feel alone anymore.

______________________________________

Saeyoung clicks the notification as soon as it pops into the screen. He contains himself from liking it when he sees her bright smile on the picture and actually refreshes the page waiting for someone to like it before he does it. Once the heart is coloured in red, he goes into the comments and writes the nicest thing he can think of. She’s quick to reply back.

They have been chatting nonstop for a while. They have met a few times, too, but calling it a date is way too much. They were going out not only as friends but as girl friends. Just one girl meeting another girl at the subway station to get lost on the streets of Seoul, walking several miles per day without even noticing. It was just them finding new restaurants to enjoy, going together to get their nails done—and even getting friendship bracelets that they wear all the time. It was like a dream come true… except she still thought he was she.

“Hey, are you even listening?” Saeran’s voice brings him back to the moment. “Of course you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am,” says Saeyoung, although it’s not true. Ever since he met her, he can’t help but keep his phone in his hand, ready to answer her texts, but she hasn’t been pretty active today.

“...you’re thinking about that girl, right?” he asks, although something about his tone tells him that he already knows the answer. “You shouldn’t hide anymore. You have been talking enough to tell her how you’re feeling. The real you, I mean.”

“It’s not easy. I don’t wanna mess this up,” Saeyoung confesses, gazing down. ”Before I do that… I just wanna know if she likes Saeyoung more than Saeyoung!”

“...what are you even saying?”

“I mean, how am I supposed to know if she likes yucky me more than pretty me? I look gorgeous in a dress, the competition is harsh enough!” his cheeks are burning. It is time to change the topic, “Wanna look into that store?”

“...that’s what I told you before…”

They are looking for new clothes for Saeran since Saeyoung accidentally mixed a red t-shirt into his pale clothes. Saeran is surprisingly picky with the clothing he chooses, so after almost two hours of searching into various shops in Hongdae, Saeyoung decided to take him to Apgujeong. So far they have visited three different stores and Saeran has (thankfully) picked some new clothes for him, although he is still searching for a vest.

As soon as they enter, Saeran starts touching the clothes, feeling the materials as he walks. He stops to pick up around three and, as he is about to enter the changing room, he stops. Saeyoung has been watching his twin so far, trying to calm himself down because of the lack of texts from the pretty girl, so he noticed how Saeran glanced at a shirt several times as he was choosing the clothes. Before Saeran can head back to pick it up, Saeyoung is already giving it to him. Saeran thanks him before disappearing behind the curtains.

Now that he is alone, Saeyoung starts walking around the store looking at the clothes. His style differs from Saeran, so many of the clothes are not appealing to him, yet there are some that he wouldn’t mind trying just for the sake of diversifying his style. As pretty Saeyoung, he dresses fashionable and mature; but as himself, as yucky Saeyoung, he wears whatever is clean—or less dirty, depending on whether he did his laundry or not. He can’t help but wonder what kind of guy the beautiful girl likes… or if she even likes guys. Up until now, he hasn’t really gotten information about that. Whenever he tries to find out if she would be interested in him—the real him—, she just changes the subject or answers back with another question.

He doesn’t know when he ended up in the women section, yet there he is. Standing in front of several accessories that he can’t help but think would look incredible on the beautiful girl. Soon he is busy looking at them all, trying to find the best one for her… but he can’t give her that as if it was nothing… maybe if he… bought two… one for her and one for him…

That would be nice.

He settles up for a pair of necklaces. Saeyoung is smart: he knows that if Saeran sees them, he won’t stop bothering him, so he is quick to go to the cashier to pay for them before Saeran comes out of the changing room. Yet as he gets closer to the cashier to pay, his heart stops as soon as he is greeted.

It is her.

The beautiful stranger is here, in front of him, smiling sweetly even though he is looking as terrible as he always does whenever he is not dressed up as a girl. She doesn’t seem to recognize him, but he keeps her head low as he pays for the necklaces. Oh my, he can’t give it to her now that she has seen them. It would be so obvious…

His face is burning red from embarrassment. He can’t believe that out of all the stores she could be working at, he just happened to come into the one… Then it clicks. Hasn’t she been answering lately because she is working?

“Would you like a bag for your necklaces?” her voice brings him back from his thoughts. He tries to hide his emotions by holding his breath. He says ‘no’ with his head, scared that she might recognize his voice even though he always makes sure to keep it higher than usual when he’s talking to her. There’s no way she’s recognizing him… right?

He slightly bows as soon as he pays, deciding to wait outside for Saeran as he might die from embarrassment if he stays close to her. Just as he is about to exit the shop, his phone rings. He waits until he is outside to answer the call.

“Hello?” he says, looking for the keys to his car.

“Saeyoung?” the voice on the other side makes him freeze.

He turns around and, on the other side of the window, there she is. His sun smiling back at him even though she now recognizes him as a liar. He wants to run away as she approaches him, but it is like his feet are stuck to the floor. He can’t move—and maybe he doesn’t want to. There’s something about her smile, the warm look in her eyes, that stops him from running away and hiding in his room for the rest of his life.

She’s now in front of him, but before he can explain himself… she’s hugging him tightly.

“Oh my, thank goodness you’re a guy! I felt really insecure whenever we went out because you’re so gorgeous and everyone looks at you in awe. But with your actual appearance, I can be the pretty one of the duo!”, she says brightly, surprisingly relieved.

Saeyoung is at a loss for words. Maybe, just maybe, a few tears are forming in his eyes. Why is she acting like this when he lied to her?

“...did you just call me ugly?” he says, but as much as he wants to sound offended, he can’t hold back a giggle.

“In comparison to me, yes, of course.” she releases him, and suddenly it feels cold outside.

“Can’t deny you’re beautiful,” he mumbles looking at his feet. They stay quiet for a while before Saeyoung gathers the courage to speak again. “I didn’t mean to hide my identity from you. It’s just that you were so happy with pretty Saeyoung that I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Well, I enjoy it whenever I am around you. My opinion is not based on your appearance, you know,” she says, “To be honest, I kinda already knew you were a guy, but I didn’t want to mention it as I thought you had a good reason to keep it to yourself.”

Saeyoung meets her gaze, slightly leaning his head to the side. “Then why did you just call me now?”

It is now her turn to look away, her cheeks tainted in red. “You looked as if you were about to have a panic attack. I just wanted to let you know I am here for you. After all, we’re friends.”

“I wish we weren’t… Wait, I, uh, I mean…Gaaah!” he can’t believe he just messed up. “It’s just that… I think you’re… extremely pretty and I, well, you know, maybe I like you?”

He is pathetic and he knows it. She just came up to tell him all this beautiful stuff about accepting himself as he is, and he has to mess up? It’s almost as he subconsciously wants to auto-sabotage himself.

“Just maybe? Because I like you a lot,” she says, getting closer to him.

Suddenly his hands are not empty anymore. They had held hands before, but this time it’s different. It may be the fact that she is right in front of him and not by his side, that their chests are one step away from touching it other… or maybe that her thumbs are tracing circles in his palms, sending an electric sensation through his whole body.

“Saeyoung, I really like you. No matter if you're prettier than me or not,” there’s a playful grin on her face as she says so. He gulps, nervous that she is either being honest or playing with him. “For real, I liked you ever since I saw you, but all this time we have been going out… I think I have fallen for you. Really hard. So, please, if you like me, don’t just say maybe.”

There’s hope both in her voice and in her eyes. He can’t think clear anymore, not when she is this close, telling him something he thought he would never get to hear. He wants to tell her how much he likes her, for how long he has been waiting for this moment… but he can’t.

Not when his body is moving on its own, hugging her waist to pull her closer until their faces are a few inches apart. Not when his head is leaning to the side as he closes the gap between them. Not when his eyes close and he feels the warmth of her lips on his own.

Not when love has made him speechless and the only way to show his feelings is with actions.

#mysme saeyoung #saeyoung x mc #707 #mysme luciel #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #choi luciel #mystic messenger #mysme #mysmerbb #mysme reverse big bang

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lovejustforaday · 3 years

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Album Review - Citrus by Asobi Seksu

Citrus - Asobi Seksu

Main Genres: Shoegaze, Dream Pop, Indie Pop

A decent sampling of: Twee Pop, Neo-Psychedelia, Noise Pop

In the conversation of greatest shoegaze and dream pop bands of all time, you usually hear a lot of the same names: My Bloody Valentine, Cocteau Twins, Ride, Slowdive, Beach House, or maybe even Mazzy Star. But one name that doesn’t get mentioned nearly as often as it should is Asobi Seksu.

Asobi Seksu were an American indie rock band consisting of songwriting duo Yuki Chikudate on vocals and keyboards, and James Hanna as lead guitarist, with a rotating rhythm section that changed from LP to LP. Critics never really gave them a fair chance, but to me they are the finest band to lead the wave of “nu-gaze” that took place over the mid-to-late 2000s.

While a lot of new shoegaze bands today are made up of younger millennials and zoomers who are very traditionalist in recreating the sounds of the original scene, the 2000s “nu-gaze” “““revival””” saw a lot of bands who wanted to expand the genre’s scope. “Nu-Gaze” bands usually fell into one of two cluster groups:

Cluster A was made up of bands incorporating prominent electronic elements to expand on the soundscapes of the original scene. Cluster B bands were making riff-heavy alternative rock that blended shoegaze guitar tones and walls of sound with clearer vocals and more distinct melodic structures, building more on the foundations of bands like Ride or Lush than the likes of MBV.

Asobi Seksu’s self-titled debut falls into the latter category, with a college-radio-esque record of mostly no-nonsense shoegaze and indie pop. It’s a pretty great record itself, but it wasn’t exactly career defining, and if it had ended there, I would say they were another above-average shoegaze band that I listen to mostly just cause they happen to make my favourite subgenre of music.

Something truly brilliant came after though. The band decided to embrace the more immersive dream pop + heavy shoegaze hybrid sound that defined most of the greatest bands of the original movement. But beyond that, the band retained their indie pop melodies and developed a vivacious, sanguine, high-energy formula that set them apart from a scene that had always mostly been defined by subtlety, introspection, and bittersweetness. The resulting album was Citrus.

True to its name, Citrus is a viscous smoothie concoction of saccharine and tangy flavours, expressed in the form of Yuki Chikudate’s frolicking vocal melodies and bright keyboard notes mixed with James Hanna’s roaring walls of sound. True to its cover art, the sonic colours of this record consist of vibrant shades of vermilion, tangerine, and daffodil. This LP is the sonic equivalent of the feeling you get from that first refreshing taste of ice cream on a hot summer’s day. A magnificently vivid experience all around.

A lot of shoegaze bands stick to very strict conventional rock instrumentation - drumkit, bass, and lots of guitars. Maybe an added string section on a song here or there for dramatic effect. But on Citrus, I hear not only the addition of Yuki’s keyboard leads, but also organs, xylophones, sleigh bells, and even toy pianos.

Citrus fades into view with “Everything Is On”, a 17 second ambient intro that sounds something like an arcade submerged in a swimming pool. Normally, I’m not particularly drawn to the trend of albums opening with these odd micro-tracks. This one instance really works however, because it contrasts ever so nicely with the bright, jangly opening guitars of “Strawberries“, the album’s proper introduction.

Speaking of, “Strawberries” is the sound of summer in full bloom, with a splendid pseudo-call-and-response riff that bounces like a yo-yo in between several intermissions of crushed shoegaze drone that feel not unlike dunking your head in a bucket of ice water. I love hearing what sounds like a rotary organ buried deep into the mix of those intermissions. The track ends brilliantly with a major tempo and rhythm shift into a rampant breakdown of manic rock instruments and festive celebration.

“Thursday” is the single greatest song of the 2000s “nu-gaze” revival, and indeed one of the very greatest indie rock songs of all time. A brief ghostly prelude foreshadows a blurry four minute burst of love and ecstasy, with one of the most pleasing choruses I’ve ever heard where Yuki offers the kindest words of concern “it seems you’ve lost your way, you’ve let it all fall apart”. This is the feeling of waking up at the end of a depressive episode and crying tears of joy as you gaze up at the sunny sky and realize that you're happy just to be alive. By the end of "Thursday”, I am completely smitten with the very notion of life itself.

The gentle strums of “Strings” open up into a sun-soaked daydream. Like on several other tracks here, Yuki uses English and Japanese interchangeably, allowing the sounds of her syllables to convey the necessary emotional imagery to non-bilingual listeners as she practically skips and hops her way through the song in an impressive display of vocal gymnastics. The wall of sound orchestrated at the end of this track is one of my all time favourites in the history of shoegaze and noise pop, like an enormous heatwave that hits you all at once.

The glorious midpoint and climax of Citrus is the seven and a half minute wonder “Red Sea”, a vision of a world that lies beyond the horizon while surfing the waves of a vast and foamy ocean. This track reaches monumental heights that I find particularly hard to put into words. What I will say is that this is second place to “Thursday” only by a small fraction, and it contains around the three minute mark one of the most captivatingly nostalgic melodies I’ve ever heard.

“Goodbye” is the sole occasion of a mostly straightforward indie pop song on this record, and its one of the sweetest breakup songs you’ll probably ever hear. “Lions and Tigers” is a distant meadow of dream pop that makes me feel like I’m a kid and I’m hugging my friend one last time before they move to another city. “Nefi + Girly” is like a follow-up to “Strawberries”, with another playful lead guitar riff and a dreamy keyboard lead that sounds like its splattering an empty canvas of indie rock with lively paint colours.

“Exotic Animal Parade” slows the record down for a brief melancholy ballad before exploding in a dream like it never even existed. “Mizu Asobi” emerges from the aftermath to finish off the record with one last beam of radiant joy before the festivities end with a bang.

As a footnote, I would like to add that, although they never count towards my final rating of a record, the bonus tracks/b-sides/etc. from the Citrus era are some of the best deep cuts ever released. Likewise, here’s some quick thoughts on those:

The band recorded two covers of two mid-20th century classics during this album cycle, including a twinkling, wistful haze rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “All Through The Day” as well as a giddy, fleeting noise pop cover of The Crystal’s “Then He Kissed Me”. Both are excellent examples of how to expand on their respective originals, reviving vintage pop classics with gorgeous soundscapes. There’s also the stand alone single “Stay Awake”, a sweeping end-of-chapter moment with some of the most excellent indie rock dynamics I’ve ever heard.

Like most people these days, Loveless was my first shoegaze record and my formal introduction to one of indie rock’s most elusive subgenres. It was good enough at the time to make me listen to a few more shoegaze bands, but Citrus was the record that made me fall in love with the genre medium. It was Citrus that allowed me to go back and fully appreciate Loveless as the masterpiece that it is, and later fall in love with other brilliant shoegaze records like Souvlaki and Ceres & Calypso In The Deep Time.

This album was also the unofficial soundtrack to most of my time as an undergrad. It played on my bus rides into the city and during walks around campus downtown on those last few days of exams before the summer. It helped me more than any other record to get through the worst year of mental health in my life. I am endlessly fond of this beautiful work of art, and I am truly grateful for how Asobi Seksu managed to expand my horizons. This will forever be one of my favourite records. Happy 15th anniversary Citrus.

10/10

highlights: “Thursday”, “Red Sea”, “Strawberries”, “Lions and Tigers”, “Strings”, “Goodbye”, “Nefi + Girly”, “Mizu Asobi”, “New Years”, “Everything Is On”, “Exotic Animal Parade”

#Asobi Seksu #Citrus #Shoegaze #Dream Pop #Indie Pop #Indie Rock #best music #best albums #favourite albums #favourite music #2006 #Yuki Chikudate #James Hanna #album review #music review #anniversary #summer

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years

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Cutest widdle champion part 2

To say the last 24 hours of Umbraby's life had been interesting would be a understatement. Having gone from one of the most handsome and dashing Starlit angel knights in service of his god he was now now basically a toddler and was learning to deal with the enhanced powers his new form gifted him with, as well as the limits and draw backs.

He was stronger then before of course but that came with a lost of reach, His flying skills were vastly improved and he was a aerial ace now but that had come with a lose of speed and balance while on the ground, due to his new stubby legs and well the thick massive diapers his Goddess (Who insisted on being referred as mommy now, a term and arrange he was rapidly warming up to) had made clear he needed.

As a godly force he had never learned to use the potty and in such a small body well, let's just say he had gone though more then a couple of diaper changes. (he wasn't keeping count though Mommy was, but she was nice and didn't bring it up.)

The other Starlit angel's, those that reminded loyal to their diminished goddess had been confused when she had invited them to meet her new champion. Quick beat, the second in command asking if she was allowed to just abduct a helpless little boy from the mortal plain, and asking if Allimir had been made aware of this.

upon finding out the former head of the knights had been given a promotion and was in fact the cute widdle guy being cradled by the goddess and being bottle fed, all worries were addressed and some chuckles rang out among the knights, as well as comments about how adorable and cute the former captain was.

"Congratulations on your promotion friend. You deserve." Quick beat said, smiling widely and while there was hint of teasing in it, the other angel meant it, and even offered to take over feeding his friend.

well fed and a diaper change later, Lulnyq didn't want there to be any doubts that her chosen form for the new champion was a mistake and also wanted to give her cute widdle champ a chance to adept to combat in his adorable new body and so arranged a series of matches between the starlit angels as Umbraby sat in her lap, sucking his thumb with the winners of each match then getting a chance to spar with the former captain.

Umbraby naturally struggled with the first few matches but before long was dominating the fights, even the one against the now captain of the guard quick beat and sharing a hearty handshake with his friend, a awesome moment somewhat marred by the fact that Umbraby had started to soil himself again and cried for mommy.

deemed ready for his mission he was escorted by Mommy and all his 'brothers and sisters' as he saw them now, Clad in his heroic champions grab and playing with his cloak as mommy worked to prepare a portal to take him to the exact location where her three worshipers were waiting.

"i didn't have a temple in the area the tournament is being held, but the three children you'll be meeting know everything about you and were more then willing to host you. they know about your 'needs' and don't mind handling that so make sure your on your best behavior." Mommy was saying, kneeling down and putting her hands on his shoulders and trying to ignore the soft comments about her ample backside coming from the other starlit angels. "Your representing mommy..heck all of us." She added and kissed Umbraby's forehead.

Maybe it was his small size, maybe it was he'd never actually left the realm before, but Umbraby suddenly felt more like Allimir, as in less of a champion and wanted to cry and toss his arms around his goddess, his mommy and beg to stay. to offer up the role of champion to anyone else.

Mommy clearly could see what he was thinking and gave him anther kiss , this time on his cheek. "You'll be ok little champion. I stocked everything you'll need in your cloak, and you can call upon them as needed. in fact the cloak itself can shape change into a soft and warm blankie should you find yourself missing us."

Reach into the cloak herself she pulled out a soft and cute bat stuffie and offered it to her scared widdle champion who hugged it and seemed to draw courage from it.

"There's a book in there about the other god's and their champions, more about the rules, Your weapon Night Blade and of course the most important thing.." And she paused and winked before finishing. "Lots and LOTS of extra diapers." She giggled and tickled his tummy.

Allimir blushed and went to argue, but one does not merely ignore the tickles of a mommy, let alone a goddess.

with some last words of encouragement from his brothers and sisters, and a last second diaper check from mommy, Allimir/Umbraby took a big breath and stepped into the portal, not quite sure what to expect.

Dwere nibbled on her lip, checking a wall clock. The goddess had said to expect the champion half a hour ago and she couldn't be out of bed much longer as it was nearing the nightly bed check.

14 year's old and average size for her age, she had her long brunette hair loose around her shoulders and was in a light black nightgown with it being so late.

She was a priestess in training at the wayward soul's Orphanage and the only worshiper of the night goddess in the city (or for a good 400 miles around at that)

As a priestess she wanted to be there when Allimir arrived and greet him but at the same time while some of the non priests or priestesses in training were given more leeway on night time wandering (it still wasn't smiled upon) it was a very big nay nay.

"I hope he shows up soon, oh gosh, what if he doesn't show up!? Those papers i forged will be left with no child to prove an-" she started to whine and then suddenly the back of her nightie was lifted and her modest white bloomers were suddenly yanked up between her cheeks and Dwere had to clamp her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking.

"Relax will ya, he'll git here when he git's here!" Giggled the prankster of the gathered gathers, A dirty blond 4 year old who hair was cut short because she loved to play in the dirty and would get tangled with leaves and the like and this just saved time.

Vivi was her name, and unlike the girl ten years her senior she was clad in just layers of faded white cloth diapers, secured with a oversized safety pin.

She was yanked out from under the nightie by the third and final member of the group, who was chuckling softly and trying and failing to scold Vivi.

Dressed in a pair of tight olive green shorts and a faded white top, his hair was in a semi mohawk and was light grey, contrasting with his light grayish skin as a half drow.

"Vivi, I think we've had this talk before, you can't -snk- just go around yanking on peoples undies." Selen scolded, picking her up and cradling the four year old in his strong despite his slim frame arms.

Dwere turned around, fire in her eyes and Vivi say the wisdom in seeking shelter in the arms of the slightly girlish half drow.

"Gosh, I'm Sooooo sorry Dwere." Vivi said, the words and tone making you think she was but the HUGE grin on her face as the oldest of the three (Selen being 7) glared and yanked at her crack.

And wouldn't you know it, with her back to the area where the champion was suppose to show and a hand digging at her wedige, the portal opened and out came Allimir, who paused for a moment, watching Dwere and tilting his head, then rubbed the back of his head.

"Uh.. Is that how you greet people on the mortal plain?" he asked cutely, and started to turn around and grab at his behind.

"NO!"

One misunderstanding explained later, and introductions made, Allimir had lots of other questions for the trio even as he hugged his stuffie and looked around the room.

"ok..First question.what's with all the mini prison beds in the room and that large table over there?" he asked, pointing at cribs and then a changing table.

"heh, never seen a nursery before?" Vivi asked. "It's where diaper butt like you n me sleep! Those are called cribs, and that's a changing table where they can put you while changing yer diapies." Vivi said, then after a second added. "Oh you'll be bunking with me by the way, but don't think you'll ever out do me when it comes to booms!"

"Vivi! we do NOT challenge a champion of our goddess to a boom boom contest!" Dwere hissed, not for the first time wishing there was a minimal age requirement to worship the goddess.

"Though you gotta admit that would be cute to watch.. from a distance." Selen chimed in.

"I'm sure that the champion of the goddess does NOT go boom boom th-" Dwere started and then was cut off.

"Actually I'm open to any and all challenges, and I was told I was a super duper big boomer by mo- I mean my goddess and fellow Starlit angels." Allimir chimed in and smiled.

"..Can we PLEASE try and get off the topic of boom boom diapers?" Dwere asked, face palming.

"ehehehe sorry. Ok, why so many beds when it's just the three of you, and are you two diapered as well?" Allimir asked, thinking this was just the three kid's home.

"Oh sweetie, this is a orphanage. a nice and open one that that offers training in priest and priestess's and offers training for any religion. they keep a big nursery because you can never be sure HOW many babies they'll have in here. Normally most of the kids here are potty trained by 2 or three at the latest bu-" Selen was explaining when Vivi cut him off

"But who wants to give up AWESOME diapies n' being able to just go whenever fer icky undies and having to sit on a smelly potty?" Vivi giggled.

"..what's a potty?" Allimir asked. " I just learned about getting rid of body waste like, 24 hours ago.."

"And now you being in diapers makes sooo much sense." Dwere said, then wrinkled her nose as a smell started to fill the nursery. "Speaking of.. ok which one of you?"

"heh, if it was ME ya would know it." Vivi said and winked, turning around and wiggling her butt and slapping it.

Allimir meanwhile was hiding his face in his plushie and whining softly.

"I'll handle changing him, you better get moving double time Dwere, it's almost bed check." Selen said, nodding at a clock and goiving over to the changing table, then frowning as he looked in the compartment for diapers.

"oh uh.. yeahhh they hafa wash more diapies because I kinda you know.." Vivi said said sheepishly.

"We CAN NOT leave a champion in stinky diapers!" Dwere whined, panicking and getting ready to offer her Nightie for the cause when Allimir chimed in.

"it's s'ok, I got this." he said, setting his Bat plushie down and then reaching into his cloak as the three mortal watched, eyes going big as saucers and he pulled out a spare diaper. "Mommy looks after me!" he beamed happily.

with the with the champion changed and Vivi seeing she had some serious competition in the nursery, the champ and the brat were put in her crib and quickly conked out, Allimir sucking on his thumb and hugging his stuffie while Vivi hugged a silver fox plushie, though instead of sucking on her own thumb she was sucking on Allimir's.

Dwere made it back to her own room just in time and had to explain why she was so out of breath and getting a lecture on proper behavior for young girls, but otherwise was left alone with cheeks burning red.

Selen was spotted in the halls and started to get a semi lecture on wandering the halls before saying he heard some of the little ones crying and wanted to help out and changed the diapers. Thankful to not have to do the dirty deed themselves, the caretakers who'd caught him let him go with a pat on the head and telling him what a good boy he was.

All was calm and good, at least until the next morning.

Vivi couldn't be sure exactly what time it was, having not bothered to learn how to read anything as of yet, but she was woken up by the panicked screams and whimpers of terror of Allimir and sat up in their crib, rubbing a eye and basking in the morning sunlight.

Despite the crib rail still being up, she was alone in the crib, and as she listened, she could make out the cry's of terror from UNDER the crib and pulled herself up, JUST too short to get out of the crib on her own.

"Allimir? Buddy? what's wrong?" She called out, trying to get her face between the bars so she could look down, though the bar's were JUST too close together.

"S-Something awful and strange is happening! it's some sort of energy attack or something!" Allimir Cried out.

"Huh? I don't see anything.." Vivi said, turning her head towards the window.

All she saw was a bright and sunny day out.

"But..but..it's so bright out there!! What's going on!?!" Allimir whined and whimpered, choking back a sob of terror and doing something else, as the smell reached Vivi.

Ironically it was as the funk reached her it clicked what was going on.

"Heh..hehehehehehehe Allimir that's called daylight. didn't you have that back home?" She giggled, thinking of how silly it was. "Daylight can't hurt you..well as long as your not out in it too long." Vivi added, thinking of the time she had played outside all day and gotten wicked sun burn.

The sniffles slowed down and Allimir slowly came into view, coming out from under the bed and locking his tear filled eyes with Vivi's amused ones.

"Y-You promise?" he asked, hovering in the air, making his diaper droop more then it normally would of as he hiccuped and ran a arm across his eyes.

"Swear by the goddess." Vivi said and gave him a warm smile, then added "but you better get your stinky butt back in here, if a caretaker find your hovering that's gonna be all SORTS of questions."

Allimir nodded slowly and floated back into the crib, though he made a grossed out face as he plopped down on his muddy back side, Just in time as the door opened and in came one of the adults.

"Oh great..anther stinker.. as if there weren't enough of them in here." The balding older man said, rolling his eyes.

"heh, G'morning ta you took Kalect!" Vivi giggled, then turned to Allimir. "That's Kalect and he's the one who gets the pleasure of wiping our BUTTS!"

Hearing the utter delight in Vivi's voice and seeing the older human frown, Allimir couldn't help but break into a fit of toddlerish giggles.

One series of diaper changes later and Allimir was trying to get used to the outfit he'd been dressed in, Mortal clothing was just so weird!

his own clothes had been taken away to be washed,save for the cloak which he had turned into a blankie and the caretaker let him keep with him at least.

but bow he was in a pair of grayish white socks, a white diaper shirt and a pair of shortalls over them, and was trying to adjust to the mortal diapers that just didn't feel right on his sensitive booty and had him wiggling like he had ant's in his pants. (he hadn't told to take out extra diapers when he'd gotten his change the night before and a look from Vivi told him that offering one now might not be a good idea)

"How are you not bugged by how rough this material is!?" Allimir whined for the forth time as Vivi in just her diapers (they had given up long ago on trying to dress her for the most part) snugged.

"I never knew anything else. but hey, your a CHAMP right?" She said, putting a arm around him and pulling him in. "You gotta get used to a little discomfort."

"Ngggh.. I suppose that tr.." Allimir trailed off, as his nostrils flared and then he covered his nose and gagged."whats that awful stench!?! I thought a poopie diaper was bad!" he cried out.

"Heh, this is where all the stupid big kids go tinkle and boom boom. it's called a bathroom." Vivi explained then added. "and NOW you see why I just go in mah diapie."

"Really, I thought that's just because you like tormenting other people." Selen said, coming out and smirking, and getting a raspberry blown at him but no denial from Vivi.

"How's my favorite little pamper packers?" he asked, Bending a knee and drawing both of the diaper butts in for a big hug.

"Eh, We're ok..Right Allimir?" Vivi said the asked, she had agreed to keep his little fit to herself to help him save face.

"Uhh yeah! Totally! no crying fits or hiding under the crib here!" Allimir said, blushing and giving a shaky grin, and making Selen raise a eyebrow.

"where's Dwere?" Vivi asked, trying to change the topic.

"oh she got roped into helping make the morning portage to teach her purity or something like that." Selen said and shrugged. "Anyways, ready for your first taste of mortal food little guy?"

"Yeah!" Allimir said, giggling and holding up his arms to be carried.

To be continued

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keig-hoe-takami · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

‘Ichirou, wait for me!’ Mina yelled to her furry eared friend who seemed to have completely forgotten she existed.

‘huh- oh! Sorry Mina I’m just super brain dead at the moment,’ she muttered, grey eyes looking down at her black school shoes,

‘Thinking about the entrance exam?’ Mina questioned, the UA entrance exam was tomorrow and despite wishing with all her heart that the two of them would make it to the elite hero school, Ichirou knew how hard it could be. Still, a girl could dream.

‘How’d you know,’ she replied somewhat sarcastically as the girls headed out of the front doors,

‘Don’t worry about it ‘rou- we just have to do our best! Besides, your quirk is crazy awesome, any hero academy would be happy to have you.’

‘Says you- your quirk is so cool,’ the girl lifted her hands, making pew pew sounds to mimic the alien queen’s quirk as the girl beside her giggled.

Two strong hands suddenly began to ruffle the two poor girls hair, Ichirou’s ears folding in irritation,

‘Hey if it isn’t pinky and puppy!’ The black haired boys arms dropped to their shoulders as he squeezed himself in between the best friends.

‘Hey Kiri, you ready for tomorrow?’ Ichirou asked, fixing her charcoal grey ears

‘You know I am, you feeling those biceps?’ He exclaimed,

‘We sure are.’ Mina rolled her eyes at the boys show of confidence, not that the girls didn’t enjoy the slightly insane things Kirishima came out with during the displays of manliness he saved just for them.

‘Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow okay?’ Ichirou said, breaking from the group to catch her bus,

‘Bright and early.’ Mina replied, throwing up a peace sign,

‘Later puppy!’ called Kiri as she turned down the neighbouring street.

The walk to the bus was refreshing, finally able to think without hearing Mr Ito drone on about quadratics. As long as the practical test was close combat, she’d be fine. Her quirk didn’t do very well at long distance, despite her heightened senses making it easy for her to sense things coming, her claws were only useful during one on one fighting. Her increased strength and speed also lending to the fighting style. As she reached the bus her swaying tail wrapped itself around her leg politely, as it often did in crowded places.The bus ride was long, Ichirou lived pretty far out of the city and unlucky for her, her mum was often too busy to pick her up. But still, the alone time was appreciated, she thought back to Mina’s words, her friend had been right, mutant quirks were often accepted at a pretty high rate, just lower than those with power up quirks, so even if she didn’t get into UA, the chances of achieving her dream and becoming a hero were still high.

‘Holy shit, we’re actually here!’ The red head exclaimed as the three friends crossed the gates to UA hero academy. Ichirou was nervous, rightfully so, but she also knew that there was no point in worrying- she just had to battle through the nerves and do her best!

‘I’m getting anxious- what if we haven’t revised enough?’ Mina fretted, despite her sunshiny demeanour, the pink girl often worried about academic skills- relying on Ichirou to help her with homework every other week.

‘Don’t panic Mina- we’ve been working so hard all year- its going to be fine.’ Ichirou tried to reassure her, squeezing her hand and sending a confident smile her way.

‘Yeah exactly, and even if we don’t do great in the written test- there’s still the practical exam! The perfect place to show off your manliness!’ Kirishima chimed in,

‘I don’t have any manliness Kiri!!’ the stressed girl cried in exasperation,

‘Pinky come on, you’ve got more manliness than me- you’re awesome!’ the boy wrapped an arm around his friends shoulder, pulling Ichirou with her. The three fell into each other, breaking out into giggles before realising exactly where they were, the steps to the entrance. This was it. They were going to make it!

The written exam ended up being easier than expected for Ichirou, but the same couldn’t be said for Kiri and Mina- the two wannabe hero’s had struggled and were hoping to do better in the practical part of the exam. Ichirou was pulled from her thoughts by the enthusiastic yelling of Present Mic, pro hero and teacher at UA as he explained the battle ground that would contain the practical segment of the exam.

The exam seemed like it would be pretty easy for Ichirou, being short range fighting, and the girl began to think that she might just actually get into the Hero Academy. The unlucky thing for Ichirou, was the fact that she wouldn’t be with Kiri and Mina for the exam, apparently being with people you already knew was an unfair advantage, so the girl would have no one to lean on.

Ichirou looked around her group for the exam, everyone looked pretty strong and kind of unapproachable, which was understandable considering the stakes. She was pretty sure she looked scary too, surveying the crowd and trying to figure out her opponents weaknesses. Her eyes met those of a boy with ashy blond hair who had been stood confidently near the front of the pack, his muscles flexing as he crossed his arms and scowled at her. Ichirou felt her face heat up as she quickly looked away. Now was not the time.

‘And the exam begins!’ Present Mic’s voice sounded round the arena as the ten minute countdown began.

Letting in a deep breath, Ichirou felt the change come over her, enhancing her senses as she feels the people around her start to move forward. She set of at a run, faster than her average speed thanks to her elevated wolf form, her puffed up tail swaying behind her as she picked up the pace. If she was going to get into UA, she was going to have to tap into her wolf senses more than ever before.

Her vermillion eyes spotted a villain at the end of the deserted street she’d been running down, sometimes it was best to get away from the pack. Directing all her attention towards the approaching bot, Ichirou extended the dark claws at the ends of her fingertips, aiming carefully for the perfect weak spot She found it, claws grabbing at the metal body of the machine and pulling the surface away to reveal the wires that she quickly cut through, claiming her first three points. The sweating girl was almost to busy rejoicing to sense the 2 point robot sneaking up behind her. Almost. At the very last minute, she turned, stretching her leg out with all her might and breaking off the head of the robot. Understanding now that there was no time to enjoy her quick victory, the girl hurried off in the direction of her other contestants, taking out robots on the way and slowly increasing her score.

As she reached the Main Street of the urban battleground, a loud booming noice filled her sensitive ears (an irritating downside to her quirk) leaving them ringing. She looked around for the creator of the horrible sound, almost giving up until she saw the blond boy from earlier surrounded by bots. Another explosion sounded from the vicinity and by the looks of things, they were thanks to the boys quirk. Great. Still, he looked like he needed help so the wolffish girl ran over, grabbing at the head of one of the robots that was advancing on his back, kicking at its body and effectively splitting it in two. She turned to another bot that looked worryingly close to the overwhelmed boy.

‘Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!’ The boy shouted aggressively as he aimed another ear bleeding explosion toward the oncoming bots.

‘I’m helping you out!’ Ichirou was shocked at his tone, but still sent him a smile as she scratched at her bots wires.

‘You’re stealing my bots, you extra!’ the boy directed more of his attention towards the girl as the onslaught of bots became easier to deal with,

‘Seriously? You think you could have finished this without me?’ She took a deep breath as her final bot fell.

‘Of course I could have, did you see my fucking quirk?’ All his attention coming to face the irritated girl beside him,

‘Yeah I saw your fucking quirk, heard it too.’ Ichirou replied, his red eyes finally meeting her own, she looked him up and down. Fuck. He’d looked hot before they’d started but now, with his hands smoking and sweat soaking his vest, he looked- well, shit, he looked even hotter.

‘Whatever, runt.’ The blond boy replied, turning down the street and leaving her behind,

‘I’m not a dog!’ She shouted after him, a blush forming on her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her brain, to find someone that brash and irritating hot? With no time to think, she set off in the opposite direction of the aggressive boy.

The ten minutes seemed to last a lifetime as Ichirou racked up points, sticking with a larger group of wanna be hero’s to protect them and herself. All was going well and good until suddenly a loud crash was heard from around the corner and a building began to tumble into the road. The cause of the huge destruction rounded the corner. The robot towered over the students, an unexpected obstacle that they hadn’t been warned about by Present Mic.

‘What the hell is that thing!’ A girl with strange tentacle like objects coming from her ears said what everyone was thinking.

‘Just run guys!!’ A tall, bulky boy cried out, already turning on his heals. Ichirou would have turned with him, deciding that her quirk, or anyone’s for that matter, would be useless against the machine, but before she could, her sensitive ears picked up on a whimpering from underneath the rumble. And without even realising that she’d started running, she was sprinting toward the sound to see what she could do. Fucking hero complex. She neared the rubble that the cries were coming from, there was at least two voices both seeming to be male. The threat of the robot still loomed above her, but Ichirou could only hope that she would make it in time.

‘Ouch- you’re crushing my arm!’ the higher voice cried, they were close,

‘Hey! Are you guys okay?’ Ichirou kneaded down, trying to find the boys but it was too dark,

‘What do you think?’ the high voice from earlier questioned in exasperation,

‘Dude, chill.’ A calmer voice rang out, ‘Do you think you could help us out?’

‘I cant really see much but I’m going to try move some stuff first.’ The huge robot was searching the area, Ichirou knew she couldn’t bring attention to herself, but she also knew one wrong move would result in the two boys being even more crushed. This was going to be tricky.

‘I think I could give you a hand with that- hold on’ For just a few seconds, light filled the tunnel the boys seemed to be stuck in, thankfully it was enough for Ichirou to gain her bearings.

‘Cool, give me one second.’ The girl reached for a large piece of metal that would hopefully clear an exit for them to climb out.

‘Thanks a lot, couldn’t have made it out without you.’ the boy who had managed to light up said appreciatively,

‘Yeah…’ the other, smaller boy with balls for hair said slowly, drool practically running down his chin as he definitely wasn’t looking at Ichirou’s face.

‘It was no problem, are you alright now? I just want to go see if I ca-’

‘TIMES UP!’ Present Mics voice rang around the arena, cutting the girl off.

‘Huh, guess we better head to the entrance.’ The blond boy looked worried, the rubble incident had lost all three of them precious time.

‘Yeah, I’m Ichirou Sato, by the way.’ She replied smiling at the boy next to her,

‘I’m Denki, Denki Kaminari. Nice tail.’ Denki replied as the three made their way slowly towards the larger group.

‘I like your tail too,’ said the purple headed boy, though somewhat creepier than Denki had been.

‘Thank you, your quirks really cool Denki, but um- I haven’t seen yours yet.’ Ichirou gestured toward the strange boy, giving him a tight smile.

‘Yes, I just-‘ there was a pause as the boy pulled one of the purple balls from his head, ‘I just do this.’

‘Oh, that’s pretty neat.’ Ichirou said raising her eyebrows at the slightly strange quirk.

‘Yeah that’s real cool buddy.’ The two shared a look, knowing that with a quirk like that, it would be surprising if the poor guy managed to get into UA.

“Chirou!’ Mina cried, running towards her tired friend and throwing her arms around her, ‘How do you think you did?’ the question was much more serious, Mina pulled back to stare into Ichirou’s eyes,

‘I think I did pretty well, my group was really good though, how did you guys do?’ She replied, now noticing a somewhat bummed out Kirishima standing behind Mina and scuffing his feet,

‘I worked as hard as I could, but Kiri here,’ the pink girl turned to poke him in the chest, ‘seems to think he did bad.’

‘What, why Kiri?’ the two girls turned their attention to their beat up looking friend,

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, turning on his heal ‘come on lets head home.’

‘Oh hell no, tell us what’s wrong.’ Mina was adamant to understand why Kiri was so annoyed at himself. He got like this at times when he didn’t think he’d done his best, all closed off and anxious to change the subject. Ichirou had been friends with him long enough to know that he needed to talk, but didn’t want anyone thinking he wasn’t manly.

‘Kiri, you can talk to us, you know that.’ Ichirou said, linking their arms together as Mina did the same on the other side, ‘If you don’t want to its perfectly fine, but we are right here.’

‘I know where you are, puppy. I just, I don’t know, I just think there was some guys in my group doing better than me, I mean there was this guy literally bulldozing through stuff, all I can do is block!’ Kiri replied, sighing in exasperation smiling and squeezing the two girls arms tight as they headed out of the gates,

‘Don’t worry about what other people can do, Kiri, your quirk is so awesome-’ Ichirou reassured him,

‘Its got pro hero potential.’ Mina chimed in, reiterating the words that Mr Ito so very often used to describe Kirishima,

‘Yeah exactly, you’re gonna be the manliest hero there ever was.’ The other girl finished, smiling up at the blushing boy,

‘Thanks guys, it- it really means a lot.’ There was a lull as the three friends now wondered what it would be like if they all managed to reach the next step of their dreams

‘Do you guys just wanna crash at my place?’ Mina asked, looking other at the two hopefully,

‘Hell yeah!’ Ichirou replied, ‘But I don’t know how much fun I’ll be- I’m so tired.’

‘Me too, don’t worry, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.’ Mina reassured her,

‘It was so awesome, it felt like I was a real hero.’ Kiri chimed in,

‘Yeah same! I felt so cool!’ Mina agreed,

‘Everything was so insane- did you get a huge robot?’

‘Uh-huh it was massive, I thought it was just supposed to be zero points!’

Ichirou smiled as her two friends shared their stories but her brain was just too tired to chime in, god she hoped the three of them made it.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x oc #bakugou #bakugou matsuri #bnha #mha oc #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #kirishima #kirishima fanfic #mha eijirou #eijiro kirishima #mina ashido #mha mina #mina fanfic #mha denki #denki kaminari #denki fanfic #bnha fluff

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darling-of-dark · 4 years

Text

Rock, Relationships, and Roses

Hey y’all I just wanted to thank you so much for reading this fic it’s only my second fic ever so please be kind! Also this is a crack fic and attempt attempt at my dry humor and I didn’t edit it because I was so excited to post it so I hope u enjoy!

~Chapter one~

“Ms.archoron, are you paying any attention at all?”

Feyre's head flew up as Mr. Cran dropped a text book next to her head, “sorry, i had-” “My class is not for sleeping ,its for learning now back to the revolutionary war…”

Feyre once again drowned out the sound of mr. cran as she stared at the clock 6 more hours till the show she thought it had been months of envious waiting to see if nesta had got the job for being the photographer for the city paper. Last night they had gotten the call and three free backstage passes for the show.

As soon as the bell rang, Eeyre was out of the class and running down the hall out the doors and to the bus stop. When feyre got home nesta was in the living room sleeping on the couch drool running down out of her mouth

“Up up up up we're going to be late! And if we're late we won't have time to talk to them”

With a loud grown nesta had gotten off the couch. Nesta had heard of the job through clare who interns for the velaris times and she only recognised the name from the giant poster in Feyre’s bedroom wingspan apparently they were a big rock group, witch was not nestas cup of tea she preferred classical music and melodies but definitely not screamo, feyre played it so loud it hurt her ears and almost got them evicted from the dingy downtown two bedroom apartment that there father had left them with three years ago, that and 50,000 dollars in debt. Sense then nesta had been working three jobs so Elain and feyre could go to school full time.

“Look what i picked up on my detore to school this morning” feyre said as she pulled out a necklace from the side pocket

“Where the hell did you get that, oh gods feyre what have i told you about stealing?” nesta said as she looked on the price

“this costs more than our heating bill”

“Oh come on nes if its chain it's free rain, plus the alarm was so easy to get off its like they were asking for it to be stolen” when nesta gave her the “look” she shoved it in nestas hand

“It is for you by the way , don't worry I took the earrings and the bracelet is for Elain” Feyre said, pushing her hair back to reveal the matching earring. Nesta could admit it was a beautiful gold chain with a seated red swarovski crystal

“Uh know to wear to the best night of our lives to night!”

“Well thank you yuh damn klepto”

~~~

“What the hell” rhys said as he was awoken by a crash from the dressing room next door, he got off the couch and banged on the door

“Shut the fuck up i was trying to sleep”

“Uh sorry we’ll try to keep it down a little more” Cassian said as Rhys rolled his eyes when he heard a girl laughing from the other side of the door. rhys walked back over to his room and sat back on the couch , he knew he wasn't going to sleep there was no point in even trying insomnia was a pain in the ass and definitely not a friend of his , it kept him awake at night he tried every vitamin and medication but it only ever lasted a few days and left him with night terrors that woke everyone on the tour bus.it was no use 1 to 2 hours was a average night for him. The band had been touring for one year and was almost done , of course until the next tour it was a never ending hell that had been happening for the past 5 years since their debut album.

“Excuse me mr.moon sir?” rhys heard from the outside of the door

“Yes?”

“ sound check is in 15”

“Yeah yeah whatever” rhys said in an aggravated tone. It was three hours till the show and already there were people lined down the streets of velaris to see them perform and if rhys was being honest it was the only thing keeping him going , at first it was a dream all the money, partying and girls but now it wasn't enough he was sick and tired of it all.

~~~

“ come on we have to be there early” feyre said just as elaine was finishing up her makeup

“Okay ,okay I'm coming” elain said walking down the hall “how do I look?” Elain knew grayson was going to be there he bought tickets 10 months ago for him and Elain but his friend ended up wanting to go with him instead and she was so happy to surprise him since he couldn't get uhhuh ticket

“So hot I love it, ” Feyre said. Elain was dressed in a black tee from the band tee that had a cut at the cleavage and dark jeans with boots, defity far from her usual pink and flower apparel all the time.

Nesta stepped out of her room with a black cardigan white tank crop top and leggings with a camera bag slung over her shoulder

“That's what you're wearing to a rock concert? You look like a pta mom on the go” feyre said as she walked toward the door

“ oh shut up its for work, you to are the ones going for fun”

“Your never going to get a boyfriend looking like that”

“Yeah definitely no boys for me tonight”

When the city bus dropped them off they still had to walk three block because of the blocked roads and then to find there way to the back door that was hounded by mass amounts of fan girls they had to pry there why throh to get to the door when they got in nesta started snapping pictures of everything from people to the equipment she had major competition for the best photos. Feyre was losing her mind Elain would've put money on it that she had never seen feyre this happy. Elain couldn't have cared less that she was backstage; she really wanted to find Grayson so she wandered off to the floor seats to do just that well Feyre was looking around and Nesta was taking as many photos as possible.

Nesta found her way over to the snack table and picked up a chocolate covered strawberry and took a bite

“Well it seems i went looking for a snack and found a whole meal” nesta jumped as she heard this she quickly turned around and was met with a smirking 6’4 man

“Im sorry what ?”

“I definitely haven't seen you around before are you an intern?”

“No i'm with the news paper velaris times” nesta said as she picked up the camera in her hand

“Well, miss newspaper lady, do you have a name ?”

“Nesta , and do you snack table boy?” the man looked slightly confused but said

“Cass , it's a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to accompany me to my bed tonight nesta ?”nesta raised her eyebrows in confusion

“ Wow, how charming does that usually work for you? Asking a random girl to sleeping with you”

“Yes actually”

“To bad it doesn't work on me”

“How about dinner after the show?”

“Dinner? The show ends at 1 am”

“ how about dinner tomorrow night?”

“ I can’t and I don’t want to go to dinner with someone who just wants to get into my pants”

“ your loss then sweetheart” nesta watched cass walked away toward the dressing rooms and wondered what the hell just happened

~~~

It was five minutes before show time when Rhys could hear the crowd chanting over and over again “we want wingspan, we want wingspan, we want wingspan” it was a never ending chant.

As rhys walked out on the black stage he grabbed his bass guitar and walked toward the mic as cassian walked toward his drum set and az to his guitar, the music started and strobe lights started moving, it was always the same rhys thought until his eyes landed on a girl in the front of the mosh pit, seeing all the people jumping around till his eyes were stuck on a guy who pushed over a girl and she fell straight to the ground hitting her head on the concrete floor passing out .

#nessian #fiction #writers #acotar #feysand #feyreandrhysand #nesta archeron #nesta and cassian #elain x azriel #elain archeron #feyre archeron #cassian #rhysand #azriel #elriel

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sarasmallmanwrites · 4 years

Text

A-Level Playing Field

Nobody wanted my opinion on this, but it’s hard growing up poor.

1988. It’s that damp kind of evening outside, clouded by condensation on the single glazed windows, and the smoke from my Nan’s Benson and Hedges. We’ve just had tea – this is North, of course – and everything is accompanied by slices of springy bread heavily lacquered in ‘soft spread’. The gold foiled butter is, usually, saved for my grandad, who works at a fibreglass factory. It’s a very long way away (actually 3.7 miles) and he leaves on his bike every evening with three rounds of tinned ham sandwiches in his bag. Tonight, my mum is out until half nine, working in the care home in the next town, picking me up at ten-ish, depending on how fast she walks. My mum is 27. Five years out of a loveless marriage, living in a council house, she has no qualifications but is working for her City and Guilds and her English ‘O-Level’, GCSEs haven’t hit our vocabulary yet, and won’t until my second cousin Mark does his two years later.

Tonight is Thursday. Nan goes out on a Thursday, which means she will leave the house at half seven in a haze of Vitapoint, Elnett and Lily of the Valley, to play Bingo at the local club. I am being looked after by Alan, my mum’s younger brother, living at home, working in the Mill that overlooks the town below like a stern Victorian overseer. He’s always grumpy, stuck in a town that has no opportunities, and no visible exit. The eighties have been cruel to young, working-class men. The vehement cry of ‘get the fuck out’ hasn’t reached our town but will do in eight years time, on a wave of Britpop, New Labour, cigarettes, and alcohol.

My uncle looks to the television for nightly escape. Thursday is Blackadder, it’s Not The Nine O’Clock News, it’s Comic Strip, it’s A Bit of Fry and Laurie, it’s Red Dwarf, it’s shipwrecked and comatose, and me engrossed on the couch, not sipping mango juice, but milky tea (the North!), as my uncle laughs his head off in between cigarettes. My mum returns, smelling like TCP and the outside, with salty, vinegary chips, and we eat them as we walk the newly tarmacked paths under the orange street lights. I ask her what a goldfish shoal is. She tells me to shush.

I decided that weekend that I wanted to be funny. I mean I could make people laugh when I did my Cilla Black impression, so surely that was a start, and thank to Carry On films I was brilliant at ‘Infamy, Infamy!’, I knew this because my grandad (the cleverest man I knew) had told me so. Even though I was only in Junior One, I knew that you had to be taught how to be funny, that there was definitely some kind of class that you would have to take to learn it, because I had never really been a natural at anything; apart from whistling, which I did with gusto in shrill, high- pitched tones wherever I could.

I read a lot, especially the paper – particularly the Daily Mirror, which probably explains why I am always heavily weighted to the left, and not just because of my ineptitude in heels – and found out that Hugh Laurie, who is obviously the funniest man I have ever encountered, went to Cambridge and was in something called ‘The Footlights’. Then was it, I decided. I was going to go to Cambridge and join ‘The Footlights’ and be funny like Victoria Wood and Dawn French. I imagine ‘The Footlights’ to be a rag-tag theatrical group living on their wits, humour, and more importantly, Pot Noodles. I tell my Grandad that I want to go to Cambridge. He tells me not to be daft.

Now, when I think about it, wanting to go to Cambridge was not a preposterous idea for any child at the age of seven; you are at the start of your education journey. There is plenty of time to get better at things, to practice, to be coached, to improve yourself; but for a working-class girl, who would eventually be the first member of her family to go to university, I might as well have said that I wanted to fly to Mars on fairy wings. But, children who attend private schools are told from the age of four that Oxford or Cambridge are the end goals for their education, with any of the higher-performing Russell Group universities being something that they could settle for, at a push. I didn’t even know what a Russell Group University was until about three years ago, and why would I? For me, in my small artsy primary school with forty children across four year groups, a dismissive attitude towards formal English education, and a liberal fancy for devoting the whole of the summer term to the end of year show, this was not something that was even thought about. Oxford and Cambridge were places printed on the back of books, they weren’t places that you went to university. In fact, most of my primary school teachers hadn’t even been to university but received their qualifications at the local teacher training college; the only exception is a brown jumpered gentleman with a penchant for using cupboards as a disciplinary technique.

We’ll skip forward a few years later, and high school is a vigorous mixing bowl of talents, it takes until at least year nine before anyone even notices who I am amongst the squall of kids churning about in KS3. Dinner is pink sausage meat wrapped in a translucent puff pastry duvet, a treat even on the hottest days when the fat sticks to your lips; and the terms pass in a haze of cheap cider (the kind that tastes like sick), the floral pout of Cherry Lypsyl, and Chris Evans on the Radio One Breakfast Show; who is hastily snoozed every morning before I smell the lukewarm coffee my mum has left by my bed before she goes to work. At this point my mum is a newly qualified nurse at the hospice two towns over, her fingers raw from hand sanitiser, but with rolls of antiseptic scented micropore tape that I use for a cacophony of projects. She is on nights right now, spooning gravelly granules of instant coffee into a mug, blurry from sleep, I am cobbling together a mask out of old Cornflake packets, stuck together with nursing supplies and painted with nail varnish that went past its best around the same time as the Thompson Twins. It is 1995, and the country feels like it is on the cusp of something. I don’t know what, but I’m looking forward to the Year 2000 because I will be fully grown. Well, nineteen.

But what about Oxbridge? Well, for starters, if you attend a state school you have to be so immediately impressive to your teachers that they discuss you in the staffroom. It’s not enough to be good at one particular thing, you have to excel across the board. You have to be so amazingly shiny, that even the most jaded teacher in the school cannot fail to be dazzled by your brightness. For state school kids, Oxbridge is not something that they suggest to the average 10 A*-C kids, it’s not something that they even dangle in front of 10 A*-B kids who are pretty good. At state school, you have to be exceptional for your teachers to even consider you as a candidate, and then you have to achieve enough A*s in your GCSEs that you might as well open a Planetarium. Even then, all they can really do is say ‘I think you could go to Oxford or Cambridge, you know’, or flag you up to the local authority careers service as ‘potential Oxbridge’. There is no Oxford Fast Track programme in state schools, even for exceptional kids.

In a recent social media fracas, one lady proclaimed that if you gave kids a level playing field then poor kids would always triumph because they were more resilient - all those Crispy Pancakes, surely? But for children from a working-class background, we’re not even on the playing field yet; we have to borrow trainers with non-marking soles, scrape around for a quid for the bus. By the time we get to the playing field, we have already been running around for half the day trying to get there, we miss the warm-up because we were late and, honestly, by this point, we’re just knackered because we’ve had to work so much harder just to get there in the first place.

The warm-up is a given to those whose parents have been able to pay for their education – they even get complimentary orange slices for afterwards, just for extra pep and vigour. There are Oxbridge prep classes, extracurricular activities slanted towards the Oxbridge admissions interviews, and chances to take unpaid internships during the summer using family connections. It’s not just that though... it’s little things like knowing it’s pronounced ‘Barkshire’, not Berkshire, it’s when you use a napkin, it’s spending a week skiing at Courchevel. It’s olives.

In 1998, I don’t know any of these things and, even if I did, my accent with its flat vowels and its Lancashire intonation would give me away in a heartbeat, because I sound like I’ve fallen off a pit pony on my way back t’mill. Things change quickly though. My mum has a baby. A screaming, mewling little boy born during The Simpsons on a Friday evening in October. Now there is absolutely no money for luxuries, and when our TV gets nicked, we end up using the small portable from upstairs. My Nan lends me money here and there to get to college, but it only covers the bus fare, and the small endowment that I receive - supposedly to cover driving lessons - gets swallowed up with everyday things that seventeen-year olds shouldn’t have to pay for. I’m working for 4 hours a week in Woolies too, £3.10 p/h to stand around the toy department in a slippery polyester blouse the colour of synthetic mint ice cream, before skulking off to the bookshop to spend that money on things for college. Nothing fancy but, by this point, I am well on my way to being a ‘Funny Girl’, studying a raft of ‘arty-farty’ A-Levels and English thrown in for good measure. The Cambridge Footlights hardly crosses my mind anymore, because Oxford and Cambridge are reserved for the kids doing the hard sciences, maths, law, politics, things that you need a calculator for. You don’t get into Oxford with A-Levels in Theatre Studies, Media, and Performing Arts, despite what they tell you about diversity.

Oxford or Cambridge do not offer a typical British university experience, and how can teachers who have never passed through the rigorous and exhausting Oxbridge admissions procedure be expected to offer any kind of advantage to their gifted and talented students? If you are a working-class parent relying on underfunded, underpaid and overworked FE lecturers to help coach your child through this, then you are immediately on the backfoot compared to a child whose parents can afford private tutors, admissions booklets, and interview coaches. This is no reflection on sixth form teachers in FE establishments across the country, who do all they can to nurture the kids with Oxbridge potential, but when some classes haven’t received new textbooks for two years, where students are encouraged to photocopy their own materials to save costs, you can see where the class difference begins to draw attention to itself without the need for neon yellow highlighters.

My UCAS book arrived in September; an impressive, thinly papered tome with a glossy black and white cover, University Colleges and Admission Services stamped across it in orange. It smells like a cross between the Argos catalogue and a phone book, which I feel is rather apt given that it contains the codes of institutions and courses that will break me out of this godforsaken town: a cypher that I etch out on the application form in black biro.

London

Southampton

Buckinghamshire

Preston

Liverpool

Manchester.

I don’t want to go to any of the bottom three, of course, far too close to where I came from to be relevant. My second cousin Mark’s stint at Sheffield Hallam seemed to be an excuse for his mum to visit his ‘digs’ once a month with catering sized tins of Nescafe, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t quite looking forward to edging the lid off with a knife and stabbing through that ridged foil. My mum writes a cheque out in her secondary modern handwriting, crossing her fingers that they won’t cash it until after payday.

The discrepancies between low-income working-class families and those with a better income also show here too - this can be something as simple as slow internet connection, not having a working laptop and doing work on smartphones, access to transport, costs for travel to visit universities. Things like this are not included when factoring in costs for students from low income. How can you visit all the different university campuses, with all the travel costs and maybe even overnight accommodation, when your parents can barely afford to keep the lights on? There was only one institution that I wanted to go to. London Institute, a glamourous collection of art colleges that included the London College of Fashion, Central St Martins, and, more importantly for me, The London College of Printing. The competition was fierce, but I was shortlisted for an interview in the capital with a former editor of the Daily Mirror. My house was showered in happy expletives that day. Even in 1999, tickets from Wigan to London were over £50 for a pre-booked return. My mum cashed in all of her Clubcard points for the ticket. But, just for me, because she hadn’t bought enough milk to cover the cost of two tickets. However, I must have impressed Tony Delano in that office in Clerkenwell, because he gave me an amazingly lowball offer meaning that my A-level results became a terribly graded self-fulfilling prophecy.

Oxford is different from usual universities in that there are colleges, thirty-nine in total. You might have seen them on University Challenge – Balliol, Trinity, Emmanuel, Brasenose – or from reading the Wikipedia pages of any of our last three Prime Ministers, including the incumbent Boris Johnson, who graduated with a 2:1 in 1987. That’s the other thing – you don’t study something at Oxford, you read it – you don’t start your studies, you matriculate, for which you need a robe. Now, I have been told by helpful and obstinate alumni via social media that Matriculation Robes are £25, ex-hire. However, I have also been told by a current Oxford student that the robe cost is £50 minimum, and no-one would dare wear a secondhand robe as ‘everyone would know’. It’s immediately singling yourself out as a Weasley in a room filled with Malfoys.

The accommodation costs are comparable to London prices; however, this does not cover the Christmas break, which means everything needs to be packed up and stored. Not only do you pay for the storage, but you pay for the boxes too. Much to my disappointment, no-one nips out for a Pot Noodle either, students are expected to dine ‘in hall’ (again, more cost!) where you can choose between an informal and a formal sitting – where your gown is required. I imagine for a working-class kid attending Oxford or Cambridge is very much like cosplaying on a Harry Potter set, but without the magic of a bottomless purse. There are balls too at the end of each term, formal affairs with ticket prices over £50. Again, said the former alumni, you don’t have to go! It’s not obligatory!

But let me tell you a harsh reality. Nothing ostracises a poor kid more than not being able to join in because they can’t afford it. Nothing. And we might have great friends who would all chip in and pay for our ticket, or lend us the money, but there is something very working-class about not wanting people to know that we can’t afford it. Surely we should not be asking these young adults who have studied and worked against all odds, to have a second class university experience because they know their parents won’t be able to help. You can’t even get a job to supplement your income either; the majority of colleges stipulate this, and as someone who had to work two term-time jobs at a much less prestigious university to live (even with the glorious student overdrafts of pre-austerity Britain), this really hit home at how much I would have struggled financially if I had gone to either of these institutions.

Recently my daughter applied for university. We get in the car and visit a university each week, driving miles up and down and across the country. We fight over choices and analyse each course based on employability, and whether or not she would like it. The process is completed in clicks and feels much more clinical than twenty years earlier, but rather than heading into unchartered waters, I have a map. It might be old and tattered, but I have a much better idea of where we are going now. My daughter believes that the meritocracy is a lie, and she tells me this in sharp, pointed tones as we receive her A-level results on a rainy Thursday morning. She goes to University in September and spends the autumn sending me videos of the Minster, or tutorials on how to swear in Japanese. She is only the second person in our family to continue on to higher education. I don’t just mean in her generation. I mean in total. We are the exception, not the rule.

One of the first questions someone at Oxford was asked by a fellow student last year was ‘private or state’, she replied ‘private’ and was met with a smile. There was no need to ask who the state school entrant was, as she queried the partridge and asparagus served for dinner – ‘this chicken is tough. Is that grass?’- and arrived for the formal sitting with her gown covering a denim skirt and shimmery top underneath. Private school teaches these things, no desperate faux pas for Isobel or Jeremy, whereas state schools do not have the resources or the knowledge to run classes on etiquette for the small number of their students that make it through the intense application procedures. This is not saying that low-income children should be discouraged – not at all – instead, it is saying that there is something inherently wrong with the system. At private school, you are disappointed if you don’t get into Oxbridge, whereas the state school child who gets in is an extraordinary anomaly talked about for years in hushed tones of reverence by the faculty.

And this is the issue with saying that children are on a level playing field, that everyone is measured on their own merit; because it is not true. For children on very low incomes, the odds are unfairly stacked against them, and the issues such as 2020’s disastrous A-Level results just add more bricks to an already near-insurmountable wall.

#opinion #exams #growinguppoor #lowincome #councilestate #councilestatekids #alevels #nineties #Oxbridge

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

title: until we meet again

pairing: demus (deceit/remus)

summary: a zombie apocalypse isn’t the place to be catching feels. unfortunately, dc is doing exactly that with a mysterious man that he met in an alley.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: remus, deceit, sympathetic deceit, zombie apocalypse, mentions of cuts and bruises, swearing, heated making out sessions, implied nudity, weapons, threats, almost attempted murder, mentions of broken glass, mentions of casual sex, mentions of hickeys, innuendos, fainting (once), mentions of STDs, death mentions, crying, sadness, anxiety, sort of breakups? it really isn’t one but idk, sexual attraction, possibly something else

***this fic obviously has a lot of triggers in it, so if you have any questions or concerns, or if you need a summary of parts with specific triggers, please send me an ask! your safety is my number one priority here, and i would hate for anybody to be engaging in unsafe reading practices!***

a/n: so this is... new for me. i’ve never written this ship or this kind of au, nor have i had deceit be the main character (in a serious manner, at least), and i’ve never attempted remus seriously, either. i hope i didn’t fuck up the descriptions of sexual attraction and making out because idk what i’m doing as a sex repulsed asexual! rip me i guess lol. also shoutout to @adultmorelikeadolt for listening to me ramble about this and proof reading it <3 they’re the real mvp here, so check their stuff out, too!!! also, this got way longer than i thought... whoops?

a/n 2: this is heavily based off of death valley by fall out boy! you can listen to it here

Commission Info

consider buying me a coffee

---

DC breathed a heavy sigh of relief as soon as the beat-up VW bus screeched to a stop inside of the checkpoint station. It had been far too long since the last one, and each mile that ticked off on the odometer made him increasingly anxious. The dense forests of Maine were the perfect hiding spots for zombies or bandits, which Virgil so fantastically liked to point out every time that it got dark. Yet they trudged deeper and deeper into the state, driving towards the safety of Canada.

But finally, they had made it.

Roman threw the bus into park and hopped out of the driver’s seat, and the others piled out of the back right after. The checkpoint station was huge--easily one of the largest in the country--but its size made sense given that it was one of two in the entirety of New England. DC gazed around the part of the checkpoint that he could see, and he was in awe at how normal it looked. Other than the giant fences and sentries, it looked like an average New England town. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have believed that there had never been a zombie outbreak in the first place.

Neat, uniform streets of houses stretched before him with shops-turned-supply-stations interspersed between them. Children were outside playing, and adults were going about their days with only a slightly heightened level of concern. Unlike all of the other stations they’d passed through on their way from Miami, it was clean and calm, and a person didn’t have to worry about being pickpocketed or stabbed on their way back from getting their rations.

The guards advanced on them, and Patton talked to the officers as they searched the bus for illegal contraband. Once the bus was clear, they were ushered into the nearest building--a small, gray brick cube that looked more like a sad excuse for a shed than anything--and were tested for the virus. With the exception of Logan fainting, the group was completely cleared to continue into the checkpoint without issue. A guide was designated to them for their month-long stay both to help them become familiar with the checkpoint and to dissuade any of the residents from becoming hostile towards the newcomers.

They drove fifteen minutes into the checkpoint to the visitor park, which was where they were allowed to park the bus. Although their guide, whose name was Remy, offered them a tour, they politely declined. They had been on the road for nearly six days, only stopping to rest or refuel, which might have been circumnavigated had it not been for the Pittsburgh checkpoint being on lockdown.

Long story short, they were tired and really just needed to sleep.

Well, everyone else needed to sleep. DC was too keyed up from the trip to feel anything other than restless, so as soon as he was sure the others were asleep and that the sun had set, he snuck out of the bus and took to the darkest alleys of the checkpoint. He moved with expert silence through the night. His feet took him far from the bus to a more desolate area. Similarly to a normal city, the checkpoint had a dilapidated section of buildings that the more unfortunate people lived, which seemed proportional to the size of the area.

It was eerily silent amidst the ruined structures. Aside from the occasional rat skittering across an alley, it was completely, utterly quiet.

Footsteps echoed just behind DC. Those footsteps were not his own.

Lightning fast, DC had his stalker pinned against the crumbling brick wall. He expected a fight back, but the man was merely grinning at him in glee. Electric green eyes stared at him with an unnerving amount of energy.

“The last time someone pinned me against a wall, both parties ended up without clothes on,” the man giggled, leaning his head as far forward as DC’s hold would allow. His mustache twisted along with each movement of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind if this interaction ended the same way.”

DC decided to ignore that comment. “Why were you following me?”

“‘Cause you’re new! We never get visitors.”

That seemed fair. People tended to stay at their original checkpoints.

“And I think you’re hot.”

“Oh, and that makes stalking me so much better. I’m not disgusted by you right now.”

The man’s odd smile grew. “People usually are, so I’m not surprised.”

DC didn’t even know how to reply. He opened and closed his mouth, scouring his brain for a comeback, when a rogue hand tugged on his belt loop. Before he could even process what was happening, their positions had been reversed.

Oh, shit.

“You’re so pretty when you’re pretending to be tough!” The man was surprisingly strong, and his hands held DC firmly in place regardless of how much he struggled. “I wonder what it would be like when you’re angry. Just fully animalistic.”

“Fuck you,” DC spat.

“Promise?”

Logan probably would have been worried about how aggressively DC rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Who says we can’t make dreams a reality?” the man whispered in a voice that sent a chill running through DC’s blood. Was this man seriously flirting with him? Was he seriously flirting back?

“I don’t give myself up so easy to dirty street dwellers.”

The man smirked, and a dark glitter flashed in his eyes. “I put the ‘d’ in dirt, baby. I can show you if you’d like.”

DC was suddenly glad that the scars covering the left half of his face were gnarly enough to distract from any blushing.

“Come on,” the man crooned. “Come with me, and I can show you a good time.”

“No. No, I can’t.” DC rushed, and to his surprise, he was immediately let go.

“Okay.” The man took a step back, allowing DC an escape route.

“Okay?”

The man gestured down the alley, still smiling. “You are free to go. I can’t keep you here.”

“Oh,” DC said. “Okay.”

As DC walked away, the man called, “Good bye!” He pretended that he didn’t hear.

---

For some godforsaken reason, DC found himself sitting on a dumpster in the alley the next day. Being out at night didn’t affect him much as he tended to prefer sleeping during the day, and he had yet to be caught by either guards or the rest of his group. Still, he hadn’t exactly been expecting to want to return to the place where he had met the strange man.

But he had, so there he was, sitting on a dumpster lid and staring up at the sky.

“BOO!” a voice suddenly shouted behind DC, and he barely managed to catch himself before he could be sent tumbling to the pavement. The same giggling from the night before echoed through the alley as the man skipped around the dumpster, stopping right in front of DC. “Hiya!”

“Hello.”

“I can’t believe you came back! People don’t usually want to be in this area of the checkpoint.”

“Well,” DC said, shrugging. “I’ve been told that I’m very usual.”

The man laughed, setting his elbow on the edge of the dumpster to place his chin in his palm. “You’re so funny!”

“Thanks.” DC tried to imagine what the man had found so funny, but his train of thought was cut short when the man moved again. He crossed his arms on the dumpster edge and rested his chin on DC’s crossed legs, looking up through his thick lashes. It took every ounce of restraint not to make a strangled noise at the very, very intimate position.

“So... Why did you come back?”

There was a second that DC considered lying, but he knew deep down that this man would be able to tell. “You.”

“Oh,” the man said breathily as if all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Kiss me?”

The tone of the man’s voice (the man--DC didn’t even know his name) turned dark, and he said, “God, yes.”

They moved quickly, and the second that DC’s boots hit the pavement, he was pressed back against the dumpster with a searing kiss. He hadn’t felt such an intense fire under his skin since before the apocalypse--since before he’d sworn off feelings altogether. A sharp flash of teeth ran across his lip before biting down so hard that DC was surprised his skin didn’t break. In retaliation, he thread his fingers in the other man’s hair and tugged, which elicited a surprised moan out of his companion.

If DC’s skin had been on fire before, he was burning now, and he took advantage of the distraction to deepen the kiss further. Too soon, the other man pulled away, grinning dangerously with shining green eyes. His cheeks held a heavy flush that matched the red swell of his lips.

“Do you want to take this somewhere more appropriate?” he asked in a husky voice that nearly made DC’s knees give out.

“Please.”

---

DC continued to sneak out to meet up with the strange man. It was fun and extremely enjoyable, so why wouldn’t he go back? He had to spend the month in the checkpoint anyway; it made sense to find something to do (literally) in his free time. Once his time was up, he would leave, and everything would go back to normal.

He could forget any of these meetings ever happened.

He would.

Because they were merely for sex. Nothing else.

They didn’t mean anything.

DC turned his head to look at the man next to him. They still didn’t know each others’ names. They were two strangers who happened to cross paths in a dingy alley. Nothing more than the product of long lines of choices. A high that they just couldn’t get enough of.

The man’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was even and deep. In the moonlight that shined through the broken window, the gray streak in his hair glimmered like a silver lake. The soft part of his lips was starkly juxtaposed with the harsh bruises and scrapes on his skin. If it were any other time, DC would have described him as stunning.

Wait.

...

No.

No. No, He wasn’t thinking like that. Sure, the man was attractive, but that was it. He was a good fuck--a good time during the god damn zombie apocalypse. DC wasn’t some fucking teenage YA protagonist yearning for the pretty bad boy. It wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with this crass, borderline violent stranger.

Holy shit, DC had fallen in love, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. He yawned and propped himself onto his elbow, grinning his usual Cheshire smile. DC’s heart pounded heavily in his chest.

“Ready for another round?” the man teased as he traced the hickeys on DC’s neck.

“I-I’ve gotta go!” DC scrambled off of the stained mattress, throwing on his clothes with urgency.

“What?”

“I just--I have to go.”

The man couldn’t even get another word in before the door to his room slammed closed.

---

The following three days were spent moping, napping, and pointedly not leaving the bus. Mostly napping. Definitely not moping.

He didn’t want to think about the pretty man from the alley. No part of his mind wanted to be reminded of soft lips and green eyes and burning passion. It was so damn tiring to confront the horrible reality of DC being in love.

Because this was the apocalypse.

And he was going to leave in a couple of weeks.

The apocalypse was neither the time nor place to grow attached to a man who skulked around in alleys like the rat bastard that he was.

But god, he had fallen hard. DC would close his eyes and see a silver streak and tan, calloused hands and shiny scars. Memories of sharp teeth on sensitive skin mingled with the sensation of hot flashes in his blood, quickening his heart rate as he wished to go back and be held and loved. What deity had he angered in a past life to deserve the burden of emotions? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the bus on the second day instead of going to the alley? How was he supposed to move on?

A sad, strangled noise escaped his throat as he contemplated his existence.

The back door of the bus swung open, and DC stilled, pretending to be asleep. He was luckily turned away from the door, so his tear-streaked face wasn’t visible to whomever opened the door. They clambered in and shut the door with a heavy thunk. They sat, of course, right behind DC’s back.

“Dee, I know you’re awake,” Virgil said. “I could hear you sobbing from outside.”

“I know what you’re talking about, Virgil. I was crying.”

Virgil huffed out a short laugh. “Wow, double lies. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Don’t go away.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

DC turned to glare at Virgil. There was no reason to hide his obvious crying when Virgil had already called him out on it. “I hate you.”

Virgil smiled sympathetically. “I know, Dee, but you’ve been in this slump for days now. Even Logan is starting to notice that you’re upset. What’s wrong?”

“I just...” he trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “I met someone.”

“We all have met people in the checkpoint, dude. We don’t know anybody here--oh. Oh, you met someone.” Virgil’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him like a truck. “You fell for them.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I ran away.”

“You what?!” Virgil screeched.

“Please, continue acting so incredibly melodramatic. It suits you,” DC grumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned away.

Virgil scoffed. “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are! I might as well have a god damn rock for a friend.”

“Your words are so kind.”

“I’m sorry that you threw away your own fucking happiness because you’re afraid of love! You had it, DC. You found someone, and you want to just throw it away!”

DC pulled himself up, throwing a harsh look at Virgil. “We have less than two weeks left in this checkpoint. When that time is up, we will leave, and I will never see him again. Continuing to see him will only bring me more distress, not to mention that I have no idea if he even feels anything for me aside from sexual attraction.”

“Dude, can you shut the fuck up for a second? Seriously, for the past few weeks, you were happier than I’d seen you since well before the apocalypse.” Virgil let out a heavy sigh. “At least apologize. I know you like to keep up your morally-gray schtick, but he deserves to hear why you ran away.”

There were a few seconds of angry silence before DC spat, “I love when you’re right!”

Virgil merely smiled and pat his shoulder, climbing out of the van.

The sun wouldn’t be setting for a few hours, so DC had plenty of time to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to say.

---

It felt like major déjà-vu for DC to be sitting on the same dumpster, hoping that the man would show up. Sure, he could have just traveled to the man’s odd little apartment, but it was far more difficult to make a quick escape from a building than it was an alley. Thus, DC had settled to take his chances of sitting on the dumpster should his partner (fuck buddy? significant other???) be furious.

Anger was a pretty valid response given the circumstances.

It had been a couple of hours since he’d arrived, and it was a bit chilly. He shivered, pulling his old leather jacket closer around him. His eyes squeezed shut as if he could will away the cold air. Canada’s weather was going to be an absolute bitch if Maine was bordering on unbearable for DC.

“Oh,” a familiar voice exclaimed from in front of the dumpster, and DC’s eyes snapped open. The man had his hands on his hips in a childlike pose, but the glimmer in his eyes bordered on murderous. “Y’know, I was starting to think I’d have to hunt you down myself, but you just waltzed back in like the idiot you are!” He shifted slightly, and the moonlight caught the metal of the knife in his hand.

“Don’t wait!” DC cried when the man lifted his arm in preparation to strike. “I didn’t want to apologize. Please, you don’t have to hear me out!”

“I do? I didn’t realize that I was under the jurisdiction of lying bastards!” The man laughed, but it was dark and lacking any humor.

“I love you,” DC blurted before he could stop himself. He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror.

I love you. The words hung in the air like a child’s mobile. They couldn’t be retracted; they couldn’t be taken back. Each syllable stuck in reality. I love you.

“Oh,” the man said, staring at DC in shock. “You aren’t lying.”

“Yes,” he lied. “I am. I wasn’t scared of my feelings. My friends and I won’t leave in a week and a half, and after that...”

The man let the knife drop to the pavement with a heavy clatter, moving to take DC’s hands. “We’re going to die. It’s just a matter of time before it happens, but what we do with that time is up to us.” He paused, and a wicked smirk twisted his lips. “Who you do is also a choice to make.”

DC choked out a laugh because it was so familiar to hear a stupid innuendo coming from this man’s lips. Love coursed through his veins for all of the stupidest reasons, but it felt so good. Virgil had been right--he was happy. He was purely, simply happy. For once, the apocalypse was on the back of his mind, and he was enjoying existence.

“I won’t have to leave,” he murmured despite himself. “It will last.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. Let’s make every second of this next week and a half count, okay?”

Maybe Virgil had been right about DC being an idiot, too, because he nodded and said, “Okay.”

---

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the Maine checkpoint station.

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the only person that he’d ever truly loved.

They were laying together on the man’s mildly disgusting mattress. The man--yes, he was still known as the man because they decided anonymous identities would be best--was lightly tracing his fingers down the bare skin of DC’s back, which would have been soothing if they hadn’t been acutely aware of the clock running out.

“You should come with us,” DC whispered. He’d been mulling the idea around in his mind for a while, but he hadn’t known how to bring it up.

“What?”

“Come with us,” he repeated fervently, sitting up. “The rest of the group wouldn’t mind one more person, and we could easily take you across the border.”

“No.”

It was DC’s turn to say, “What?”

“No,” the man sighed as he sat up as well. “I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Look around!” He gestured at the debris-filled room. Glass and rock littered most of the floor, and the rest was covered in clothes and containers of food. “I have no worth. I despise using the characteristics of ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ but it isn’t fair to such kind people to have to take on someone like me.”

“They’d be happy to let you tag along--”

“I know, but I have to make it on my own.” His green eyes sparked with determination. “I’ll make it on my own.”

“Will you promise? I don’t care if it’s meaningless, but... it’ll make it easier to leave if I have reassurance that you’ll find me.” DC let his fingers intertwine with the other man’s in an attempt to forget about the pit in his stomach.

“I promise.”

---

One Year Later

Things had finally started settling down for the group. Nearly all of them had been able to secure some sort of job, and they had a roof over their heads that wasn’t attached to a vintage bus. Things were good. DC was happy, healthy, and safe.

A bit lonely, but he still had his friends.

He knew deep down that the man he’d met in Maine wouldn’t make it to Canada. DC had left him with a map marked with where the group was going to end up, but without a mode of transportation, the whispered promises to find each other would stay in the crumbling ruins of an apartment complex. That was okay, even if his heart still held on to the green-eyed stranger like there was a chance of being together.

When he’d eventually told the others of his fling, they’d all been supportive in their own ways. Patton gave him a long hug and whispered gentle reassurances into his ears, and Roman had told him that anything was possible until proven impossible. Logan scolded him about being reckless, claiming that he would have been pissed that DC had survived the apocalypse for so long just to be taken down by potential STDs. Even though Virgil had already known, he still offered a shoulder to cry on. DC would never admit it, but he appreciated how loved he felt.

He shook his head to clear his mind. It was nearly two in the morning; he should’ve been trying to sleep instead of dwelling on the past. Logan always liked to preach about circadian rhythm and all that jazz.

Whatever. DC cut his losses and went to the tiny kitchen, throwing a pot of water on the stove to boil. He took out his mug and a packet of chamomile tea that Patton had stocked for his insomnia as he waited. At least he was trying to coax his body into sleep. Virgil usually just listened to news stations on the radio until the sun rose. Old, paranoid habits died hard, he supposed.

A knock at the door pulled DC out of his thoughts. They never received any visitors, and they definitely were never this late at night. Cautiously, he grabbed the heavy flashlight from its spot next to the hall closet. He prepared to swing at whoever was outside and peered out of the peephole.

Bright green eyes stared back at him, and the flashlight clattered to the ground, barely missing his foot. He flung the door open because there was no way that he was seeing things right, but standing less than a meter away was the man from Maine. DC couldn’t believe his eyes. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey,” the man said as though they had never been apart.

“Holy shit.”

The man giggled, playfully setting his fists on his hips. “I traveled nearly three hundred miles to see you, and this is the greeting I get?”

DC wasn’t able to respond as Roman’s tired voice appeared behind him. “Dee, wha’s goin’ on?”

“Dee? Oh, that’s a cute nickname!” The man turned to Roman and said, “Hi! I’m his boyfriend.”

That sobered DC up fast. “He’s the one from Maine.” My boyfriend.

“Oh! Holy shit!” Roman’s eyes went wide with realization.

“Roman, this is...?”

“Remus,” the man supplied.

“Roman, this is Remus.” The name felt like gold on his tongue. “Remus, this is my friend, Roman.”

Roman held out his hand, which Remus shook. “I can’t believe you made it. How’d you even find us?”

“I secretly embedded a tracker in Dee’s skin before he left!” Roman looked horrified, and Remus cackled at the response. “Just kidding! He told me that you were going to Moncton, and I just asked around about a VW bus for a while until I found you.”

“Right...” It seemed that Roman had become thoroughly uncomfortable by Remus’ sense of humor. “I’m gonna go back to bed.” He paused, making direct eye contact with his friend. “And DC? Don’t be loud or whatever.”

“We won’t,” he assured at the same time that Remus said, “No promises!”

As soon as the door to Roman’s room was shut, DC threw himself into Remus’ arms. “You actually did it.”

“I did,” he said. “I promised.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it!” DC cried, feeling hot tears brim in his eyes.

“I didn’t either, Dee. I really didn’t.”

“I love you.”

Remus’ fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you, too.”

And maybe DC cried, but that was okay. He had someone to wipe the tears away, now.

now with a part 2 minific

#sanders sides fic #demus #ts deceit #ts remus #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #m writes things #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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worldwidebt7 · 6 years

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“Han River, Seoul”

[MEETING YOU SERIES]

》Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

》Genre(s): [Fluff] [Reality] [Slow-Burn] [OneShot]

》Words: 13,338

》Rating: T

》 Warnings: Minimal Cursing

》A/N: Ah, my debut fic! I attempted writing fics before, but it never turned out quite right, so I hope that this will be received well~ It… turned out much longer than I originally anticipated… I’d like to say that it’ll be the longest in the [MEETING YOU] series, but I can’t promise anything. I always get carried away! I wanted to start with Joonie because… well, honestly it saddens me at the lack of Namjoon writings… Plus this was based off of a dream I had, and also written for a friend~ There’s lots of meaning for me in this story, so please read it well!

[SUMMARY] Sometimes the world creates the strangest coincidences— on a day where hoods are pulled up and eyes are cast down, your gaze meets a familiar stranger’s. In that fleeting moment, you thought perhaps you were dreaming; it had been no different from any other day…

For the first time since arriving in Seoul, you woke up without the blaring of your alarm. You preferred this— the natural awakening of your body rather than the jarring coercion of loud ringing frightening your senses to alertness. Today, the sun did not shine cheerfully through your window, nor did the birds chirp their happy songs through the air. No, today there was the gentle patter of rain against the glass at the foot of your bed, more than likely what had woken you up from your slumber.

You loved the rain normally— it was calming and it made the rest of the world smell sweet if only for a moment. But as you sat up, pushing your comforter from your body, you are painfully aware that you do not have a vehicle, and therefore must walk to work in the chilling rain. With a sigh, you tenderly step onto your bitter floor, jumping a bit at the feeling of it against your warm feet. You only pause for a moment though before you’re up and preparing for your day.

You had gotten your license to teach English overseas six months ago and we’re happy to accept a job in the heart of South Korea in Seoul. It had been your top choice after all, you most certainly weren’t going to turn it down. You had been living here for a little under a month now and w still in the process of adapting to life here.

At first, it was difficult— between jet lag and homesickness it had been rough getting settled. But when you began your job two weeks ago it had gotten a bit easier. You were able to connect with some of your coworkers, a few of them being from America or Canada. You were still not all that proficient at speaking Korean, so talking to your Korean coworkers was a struggle; plus you were still relatively new, so you figured they weren’t quite sure what to do with you yet.

So, you mostly kept to yourself, regarding your coworkers with respect when you passed them in the halls and promising ‘next time’ when you were invited out for drinks after work. You knew you should probably accept, make friends and all that, but you were still getting used to your new routine and couldn’t quite seem to shake the exhaustion that slipped over you at the end of every day.

Today seemed like an exception though, as you cheerily tugged your pants on, mouthing the words to “COFFEE” by BTS as it played in the background through your stereo system. You have always been a fan. Since 2014? Maybe even since their debut, you couldn’t be sure. You’ve loved them for as long as your memory would allow, and they were a large reason as to why you wanted to teach English in Seoul— not because you expected to meet them necessarily; but because they had introduced you to such a beautiful language and culture that you would have otherwise written off.

The Korean language was truly beautiful, you couldn’t deny. And their culture was so similar yet so different for that of the U.S. that it had intrigued you the moment you became exposed. You wanted to be a part of it— the culture. You wanted to know the language that so enraptured you. It was a struggle, yes, but you were willing to put forth the effort for the culture you had become so ensnared with. The sacrifice was easy.

Your playlist continued with features such as Zico, GOT7, and BIGBANG gracing your ears, but you had an aching for Bangtan this day, and you found yourself skipping any other artist to listen to their genius, moving to their beats and symphonies like it was your oxygen. You couldn’t explain it, the effect their music had on you. But it made you feel... at peace. Like no matter what else happened around you, this world you had created between BTS and yourself would always be there, waiting for you should things in reality get too much to bear. You loved it, this sanctuary.

You slipped on the matching blazer to your ensemble and hastily made your way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast— a simple berry smoothie with some toast. Simple it may be, but you were thankful to have just that. Money had been tight since moving to Seoul and, as much as you knew it would happen ahead of time, it was impacting the groceries you were able to buy. Rice, frozen fruits, and veggies were your accumulative diet for the last month. You couldn’t complain though— you were in Seoul. There wasn’t much more you could ask for if you were being honest.

After drinking your smoothie and scarfing down your piece of buttered toast you popped in your headphones to begin your commute to the school you worked at, not daring to step foot outside on your long trek without music. On a rainy day such as this, you chose your mellow playlist— consisting of songs such as “House of Cards” by BTS, “Body” by Mino, and “I” by Taeyeon. You had just recently added the entire “mono” playlist by RM, and it was the perfect music for a day such as this. You found yourself putting “forever rain” on repeat as you made your way down the path next to the Han River.

It wasn’t a bad way to get to work, you mused— seeing as you could’ve been forced to take a crowded bus through the city to get to your destination. Walking next to the river was cleansing as you made your way to the strenuous environment of your job. You were able to prepare your mind and soul before walking into what you knew was a class of young adults that really were not interested in you whatsoever.

The rain was light enough that you didn’t feel the need to bring an umbrella, but you still pulled the hood of your jacket over your head to try to salvage what little you did to your hair. You still kept your head up, peering at the uninhabited paths before you. Perhaps it was American confidence that kept your head high— you’ve noticed that it was customary to keep one’s gaze to the ground when walking in public here in Korea. There were some habits you just couldn’t shake.

The sound of the rain was just enough to drown out the sounds of the city, leaving you with only your music and the static noise of the rainfall. As wet as you were, you were at peace, happily making your way down the path next to the river, glancing at said body of water every once in a while, to soak in the sight of it swollen and angry against its banks.

After one particularly long stare you shifted your gaze back to the path before you, catching movement from your peripheral. Another figure stalked casually in front of you, hands in his pockets and sweatshirt hood pulled over a baseball cap. You could faintly see dark hair sticking out from beneath the cap, but there were no other distinguishing features visible from your viewpoint, as he also had a mask covering the bottom half of his face.

He was tall, you noticed— a full head taller than you at the very least, and a bit taller than you expected the average Korean man to be. He had a certain presence about him, as if he were born to stand out as he desperately tried to disappear into his surroundings. It was strange, you thought; why you would be so focused on a man dressed so plainly.

As you got closer you began to notice the shape of his face, round but narrow at the same time— clearly someone thin with a larger frame. His damp sweatpants clung to the swell of his thighs, displaying that he was fit and toned with lean muscle mass. You quickly pulled your eyes back to his covered face, not wanting to linger too long on his built lower half.

Now only feet away, you could see past the bill of his hat where the bridge of his nose laid, still mostly covered by the face mask he wore, but still more features than you were previously able to view, and you suddenly found yourself wishing to make eye contact with him, if only to nod in awareness at his presence instead of simply awkwardly passing each other as if you were former friends who were no longer on speaking terms. With this in mind, you continued to keep your gaze locked on the skin visible between his hat and his mask, hoping he’ll pick his head up in time for you to acknowledge him.

As if hearing your thoughts, before the last moment of passing you he looked up, eyes locking with yours and you stared meaningfully at his eyes. There was something... oddly familiar about them. Something you couldn’t quite place. Was he a student of yours? A coworker? You know you’ve seen those eyes somewhere before... but where? You scanned the rest of his face in urgency, trying to find the clue that pieced the puzzle together in your memory. And at the slight raise of his eyebrows you found it— you did know those eyes. You had seen them many times, but never in person, never right before you.

Your heart rate picked up in realization, and you’re sure your face showed it too as you watched his eyes widen a fraction more. He knew that you realized who he was, and he seemed... uncomfortable with that idea. Luckily for him, you weren’t one to gush or make a scene— even when it came to one of the biggest celebrities in the world. And as you tried to calm your raging heart, you nodded towards him, acknowledging his presence, and giving a silent promise to not reveal his identity, even though there were no other eyes to witness him strolling about.

The two of you never broke eye contact, and with only a moment of delay to ponder your gesture, he too was nodding back, a silent thank you for keeping his identity clandestine.

This moment between you two lasted mere seconds, but an eternity etched into your memory. It was almost like a dream— who, really, could say that they came into contact with one of their favorite artists of all time and had an intimate, wordless conversation with them? It was too good to be true. You had to have been mistaken. It couldn’t have been him... but you knew those eyes... those legs... that walk... that aura. Everything about him was exactly how you’d expected it to be when you imagined what it would be like to see him in person as you watched him on a screen. And the look of slight panic on his slightly exposed face when you assumed it was him was almost more than enough confirmation... No, no... you couldn’t assume. But... what if it really had been him...

Had you really just walked by Kim Namjoon?

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

You arrived at work with a mystified look on your face, walking to your desk with seemingly no purpose. Your coworkers watched you curiously, as it was the first time you had arrived with an unfocused glaze in your eyes. You tried to make a point to be focused on your tasks immediately as you walked through the doors of the school building, but today you couldn’t think much about school. You had a certain member of Bangtan on the brain.

Your coworker, and probably the person you considered your closest friend in Korea, Erin, approached you with caution. “Y/N...” she began, “...you, uh, you feelin’ alright?” She questioned with true concern. You blinked and looked up at her, broken out of your own world.

“Huh?” Was your only reply. She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“You good? You didn’t even say hi when you walked in...” she stuck her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing towards the door. Your eyes flickered to the doorway before resting on her gaze once more. You blinked a few more times before replying,

“Oh, uh, yeah...” you stated unconvincingly, awkwardly looking back at the bag you brought with you as you began pulling out binders and notebooks. “I thought I saw...” you paused again, rethinking your next statement. The reason Erin and you had become such good friends was because you had seen her Hoseok phone case and asked her about her love for BTS. You bonded immediately through the group and she became the easiest person for you to talk to, however she was quite passionate about the Kpop scene. If you told her you thought you saw Namjoon.... “Never mind. It’s nothing; I’m just being an air-head today.” You laughed, tossing your bag beneath your desk.

She continued to stare at you for a moment before shrugging and plopping down at her desk next to you. “Alright... but if you need to talk to someone, you can always come to me, you know that right?” She picked up a mug from her desk and took a sip of what you could only assume to be coffee. You smiled at her— she had a very forward personality, but she had s kind soul, and for that you were thankful. Without her, you would probably never have found a semblance of ‘home.’

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The rest of your work week had gone by without incident, but you found yourself constantly dwelling on the “what if’s” of your encounter a few days before. Now it was Friday, and as you walked to work, as you had every other day this week, you wondered if you would run into the mysterious figure in the baseball cap and face mask. You hoped to get a better look at him this time if by chance you did, but you knew that there were slim odds of encountering him a second time if he were who you thought him to be. If it had been, with his busy schedule, it was probably a rare moment in time where he hadn’t been required to go to the studio. Still, you hoped for it— to be the only one who walked past him knowing his identity, keeping that secret safe within the confines of your heart— you couldn’t have written a better fan-fiction yourself. Just the thought of it made your heart flutter.

Ah... but... perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you were completely sure it was him in the first place, and you couldn’t forget that you hadn’t actually spoken to him— as much as your silent conversation had left an impact on you, he had probably forgotten all about you at this point.

You tried to shake the ridiculous swell of hope rising in your chest, walking forward with purpose as you reviewed the lesson plan you had created for the day in your head.

There were many other people present on the path next to the Han River this morning; the sun had finally broken and dried the puddles of the rain storm from the other day. Joggers, cyclists, and other commuters passed you now and then, never making eye contact with you as he had that day. Perhaps it had been an oddity, since it had only been the two of you on the path that day. Or, perhaps, it really had been a dream. It had happened so fast, you only remembered the moment of your eyes meeting with precise accuracy, as you would when waking from a dream. The rest had become a blur in your mind, no matter how hard you concentrated on the details.

You found yourself lost in thought as you unknowingly caught up with a figure that had been walking in front of you. It wasn’t until you were nearly right on top of him that you realized there was another presence there. You jolted out of your trance just in time to about flat-tiring the poor man, but not with enough grace that you didn’t manage to trip over your own feet.

“Shit—” you cursed under your breath, reaching out to grasp something to center you once more. Unfortunately for the individual in front of you, he was the only thing around to brace yourself on, and your small hand fisted into the back of his sweatshirt, tugging it down a bit. You could feel him freeze immediately, and for a moment, only for a moment, you were thankful he didn’t keep walking. And then you were nearly too embarrassed to speak. You released him once you had your bearings and began stuttering like a fool.

“S-s-sorry! Ah! No— uh—" your brain scrambled to remember the Korean word for ‘I’m Sorry’ as he turned to look at you. Just as you were able to peer at his face you blurted out what you hoped to be the right phrase. “미안해...요...” you trailed off as you saw that familiar stranger’s eyes, looking at you, wider than before, and your voice caught in your throat in panic. Only one thought coursed through your otherwise blank mind: ‘Oh dear God…’

You’d done it this time— your absent-mindedness had just caused you to embarrass yourself on an unimaginable scale; you had just grabbed the back of, who you believed to be, Kim Namjoon. Fear freezing you at the imminent doom you currently faced, your heart felt as if it were going to burst within your chest and your stomach twisted uncomfortably. Why fate would be so cruel to you was beyond your understanding and you suddenly had an overwhelming need to flee as his gaze burned down on you, not in anger, but in a similar look of awe. Legs tense and shaking, you manage, somehow, to take a step back away from the figure, somewhere in your mind realizing that remaining any longer in this awkward state would subsequently cause a scene and you didn’t want to draw attention to the idol who simply only wanted to blend in at this moment.

You straightened yourself, trying to look relaxed (and surely failing), before giving a slight bow, murmuring another ‘sorry,’ before taking a step around him to continue on your way. His gazed followed you as you passed him slowly, eyes trained on your heated, red face— a furious blush that you were certain had moved over your ears and down your neck. You dared a peek up to make eye contact with him again, nodding as you had the other day. He blinked as if the small gesture had broken a spell before nodding back, then quickly turning on his heel and pulling his cap further over his face, walking in the opposite direction he had been going before you had nearly run into him.

It was a chilly day, yet you found yourself sweating profusely, and even as you left the path that paralleled the Han River to cross the street leading into the city, you couldn’t calm your raging heard that hammered almost painfully behind your ribs. You could hear the blood rushing through your ears— had that really just happened? And why were you reacting like this when you weren’t even completely sure that it was the RM that you saw twice now? As much as your brain tried to reason with you, your heart betrayed all logic; somewhere in your soul you were painfully aware of those eyes. Eyes that you knew well, despite never bearing witness to them in real life.

Being a fan of BTS, it seemed, was never a casual affair. Their intense presence on the internet made them impossible to avoid, and, soon into your rise as an ARMY, every time you logged onto any sort of social media you were (pleasantly) bombarded with their faces. As an international fan originally, you were used to only being graced by them through screens— a sad reality that all international fans were forced to live at some point in time. But you were glad to appreciate them in whatever method you were provided, even if it meant never seeing them in person.

As a result, you had become overly familiar with their faces, but as it was the general downfall for most of the fandom, you weren’t exceedingly embarrassed. You had never expected to meet them anyway, so there had never been any harm intended. You had no delusions about someday falling in love and dating the world-wide idols, and, as nice as it was to daydream of an impossible scenario such as that, you did not pine after them with romantic affections— they were your idol group to love and support with respect. Plain and simple.

Still, the sudden meeting of the leader of your beloved group had your heart racing in a way that you could not have prepared for, and you wondered if somewhere along the lines your love for them had become deeper than you could have ever imagined. You cursed at your over-emotional tendencies as you forced your feet to move faster towards your destination.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Erin was yet again staring at you with interest. You had walked into work frazzled-looking; your cheeks painted in pink, breath coming out in small gasps, and a distant look in your eyes that screamed distress, but in what way your friend could not tell. The rest of your coworkers were oblivious to our state until you slumped down against your desk, hands on your head and foot tapping relentlessly as your eyes remained unfocused. Unable to continue watching you, Erin rolled over to you in her office chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, what’s up?” She said, leaning her elbow against the arm of the chair and perching her chin in her hand. “This is the second time this week you’ve wandered in looking freaked out, what’s going on? It’s like you saw a ghost.” You internally laughed at the comment— it felt like you had seen a ghost. There was no rational explanation for either meeting you had with the man currently consuming your thoughts. You sighed and leaned back in your seat, hands falling to your lap.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” Not that you were particularly willing to let slip that you had run into Kim Namjoon twice yet; you felt like you should keep his secret walks along the Han River to yourself for the time being. You still weren’t one-hundred percent sure it was him for one, and on the other hand if it really was him, you would feel responsible if he were to get swarmed by fans while he was trying to relax should you tell anyone.

At your response, Erin merely shrugged and began scooching back over to her own desk. “If you say so. But if it starts getting worse, tell me, alright? You’re starting to freak me out…” She mumbled, beginning to type on her computer once more. You gave another heavy sigh, before turning your computer on as well to begin working. As you began reviewing your lesson plan for the day, you felt the corners of your lips begin to turn up.

As stressed out about your encounter this morning as you were, you were also irrepressibly ecstatic. And this underlying happiness had your heart beating in a different, more pleasant way. How many fans could say that they’ve met their idol casually on the streets not once, but twice? What’s more, you felt incredibly fortunate to have been aware that it was, in fact, an intimate moment in his life. A moment where he was no longer RM of BTS, but just Kim Namjoon, walking alongside the Han River in Seoul with his thoughts. How often does he get the opportunity to do that, you wondered? He was always in the public eye— always the leader, the speaker, the face of the most well-known Korean boy group in the world. How many rare few moments in his musical career has he gotten to be “Kim Namjoon,” and you had witnessed two of them. You felt entirely blessed for those moments.

You realized that you had a sort of obligation to keep those moments to yourself now. Who were you to ruin the time Namjoon had to just be Namjoon? You glanced at Erin thoughtfully. She’d be pissed for sure if she ever found out you kept this from her, and you would be punished for it in one form or another (she’d most likely begin by screaming animatedly at you and hitting your arm repeatedly to get her point across before making you buy her dinner). You shrugged defeatedly, accepting this fate should she ever find out. You wanted these secret moments to stay secrets for a while longer.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

You had spent the entire day on Saturday writing lesson plans for the upcoming school week cooped up in your apartment. Erin had tried to convince you to go out and get drinks with her and your other coworkers, but you still weren’t feeling particularly social yet and resigned to staying in that night and mindlessly watching some drama with a takeout dinner. Thankfully you had been able to figure out how to set up English captions on your television, even if they weren’t entirely the most accurate. Not that you were truly paying attention— You really only wanted background noise to your constant daydreaming of the peculiar instances where you found yourself face-to-face with someone you only ever dreamed of seeing in person. You went to bed that night feeling excited for the upcoming week, hoping that you would have another opportunity to see the masked man with the intense, familiar eyes.

Your Sunday morning was the same as all the others that you had spent in Korea. Coffee before nibbling on a slightly fancier breakfast of yogurt, fruit, and granola, then some light exercise in the comfort of your own living room. Gyms in Korea were outrageously expensive for your tight budget, so even if you would have liked to go, you simply could not afford it. After stretching you got dressed and prepared yourself for a quick trip to the grocery store to buy essentials that you had run out of over the course of the week, which meant another walk along the Han River. You had never been so excited to buy groceries in your life.

You grabbed your empty backpack and keys and skipped out the door, more pep in your step than you’ve had in months. You knew being hopeful would probably leave you disappointed in the end, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to see him again, even if you would only simply nod in his direction as you had the first encounter the two of you had. Rationally, you tried to calm yourself,

‘Don’t get too excited; you may not see him ever again,’ you reasoned, ‘there’s no excuse to get upset if you don’t see him.’ Still, you knew you’d be disappointed.

The trip to the store was without incident as you walked along the river glancing about at the faces that surrounded you, looking for those familiar eyes among them. They hadn’t been there of course, as you guessed, and you lost a bit of your vigor on your way home. You had bought simple things like vegetables, apples, coffee, ramyeon, and a small jar of peanut butter, all of which you put in your backpack save the apples. It was getting close to lunch time and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it back to your apartment.

Thus far on your way home, you haven’t had much better luck finding those eyes. Thankfully, your hunger was a small distraction from the disappointment swelling in your chest. You knew better than to expect things, but who wouldn’t become hopeful when a wistful encounter turned into something seemingly more than just chance? You sighed and opened the plastic bag holding your apples, digging through it to find a piece of fruit that seemed appealing to you at that moment. As you pulled one out, your clumsiness got the better of you as you nearly dropped it.

“Shit—” You say as you fumble with your damned lunch, barely saving it before it becomes a bruised mess on the ground. You grumbled under your breath as you lift it to your mouth to take a large bite, and as you do so, you happen to flick your eyes over to a figure sitting on a bench on the side of the road. And you’re met with those eyes again. You pause mid-bite to openly stare, realizing he had just seen you struggling with a piece of fruit. He stared back at you with recognition clear in his eyes and a hint of… amusement? You look away, taking in the large mouthful of apple with a bit of struggle and chew quickly before swallowing. Once you’re no longer impaired with apple in your face, you look over again, pink faced and awkward as you adjust the plastic bag in your hands. He has yet to take his eyes off of you and you feel as if your body is on fire.

This time, you offer him a small smile along with your typical nod, which is all you expect in return. The response you get, however, takes you by surprise. You had already started walking again when he quickly ripped his gaze from yours to look at the surroundings and you were just about to look away as well, figuring he was done with you. But at the last moment, he locked eyes with you again and slyly slipped the mask down his face, stopping your heart for more than a beat. He was more breathtaking in person than you could’ve ever imagined, and the small smile that graced his plush lips in response to the one you sent him was almost too much to handle, his dimples becoming visible from the action. The fangirl within you squealed in delight as it was finally confirmed that you had, in fact, been running into the RM, but you did your best to stay composed on the outside. You couldn’t, however, stop the gleam in your eyes and your smile spreading brightly across your face even more.

The corners of his lips twitched up a bit more at your expression and he gave you a nod as well before pulling the mask back up to cover his face once more, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing from the bench. You almost froze in your spot at the movement, but when he turned to walk in the opposite direction as you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your pace had slowed a bit in the shock of it all, and you could feel your face burning from the smile that was carved into it.

It was him— and he had willingly given you his identity in the open. And that smile! You never knew smiles could be like that! And it was a smile you never thought you’d get to see. You couldn’t stop the excitement running through your veins at the recollection of his face— his dimples, his pink lips turned up into a smile, the perfect bridge of his nose… you repeated it over and over again in your mind, inscribing it into your memory forever. It was the most innocent, yet intimate moment you had ever experienced. It almost felt like he trusted you in some tiny way, and you felt blessed by this small thought.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Your Monday had flown by in a blur of excitement, the events of the previous day keeping you on cloud nine for a full thirty-six hours. Erin was disturbed to say the least— you had looked like you were on the verge of a breakdown just the previous Friday, and now on Monday you seem to be a completely new you, filled with energy and spunk that the other woman had yet to see from you. She eyes you suspiciously the entire day, asking you what had made you so chipper on such a gloomy day such as Monday.

You wanted to tell her, you really did, but a larger part of you wanted it to stay unknown. This was a moment that you had shared with Namjoon, a moment that no one else needed to be privy to. And you were perfectly content with that, the memory becoming like your own happy pill to give you energy when you felt you were lacking.

It was the end of your workday now, and Erin still refused to let up on your blissful state, saying it was unnaturally cheerful.

“Seriously Y/N,” she pressed, “what the hell happened? Your mood swings are seriously freaking me out!” The two of you were back at your desks in the teachers’ office space, shutting down your computers and packing your things. You looked over at her and rolled your eyes, chuckling at her dramatics.

“It’s really nothing, Erin.” You told her, repeating what you had been telling her the entire day. She was a persistent one, that was for sure. But you were stubborn enough to withstand it. She let out a groan and threw her head back, crossing her arms and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had just about tuned her out when she let out a loud gasp, making you jump. You turned to her to see her staring at you with wide eyes. “What?!” you asked in exasperation.

“You met someone!” She exclaimed, and you froze. Quickly, you realized she meant someone as in a ‘romantic interest’ and not the leader of world-wide idol group BTS, so you let out a sigh that turned into a relieved laugh.

“No, Erin, I didn’t meet anyone.” You shook your head and slung your backpack over your shoulder. She eyed you with a crinkle in her nose, seemingly not believing you.

“Well somethings going on with you…” she muttered, gathering her things as well. “I’ll figure it out eventually.” You laughed again as the two of you made your way out of the building. You parted ways when you turned to the sidewalk that would take you to the pathway parallel to the Han river. You said goodbye, Erin promising to figure out your secret as you wandered off with a wide smile on your face. She seemed adamant, but there was no way she could guess what actually happened. You fell asleep that night as happy as when you woke up.

The next morning, you woke to the familiar sound of rain against your window. Gradually coming out of the grogginess of sleep, you slowly smiled, remembering what had happened the last time it rained. The grey skies seemed more welcoming than they ever had before, and the rain seemed to call you out from beneath your blankets as you sprung out of bed. You threw on your favorite playlist and began to get ready for the day, singing and dancing about your apartment, not even pausing when you needed to brush your teeth. You were a ball of wonder that could not be contained, and, honestly, you couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy before in your life. And it was all because of a small smile, from a familiar stranger.

You made your way out of your apartment, still bopping to the music playing through your headphones as you made your way outside. If it wasn’t for the face that you were on your way to work and needed to keep up a professional appearance you wouldn’t have even put your hood up this time, finding it a perfectly pleasant idea to feel the rain on your face. You stepped onto the path leading you to work down the Han River and you found yourself alone on the path as you had the previous week when it was raining. Seeing this, you had little reserve when it came to humming and skipping along to the songs that played, randomly singing out the lines that you knew in English and Korean alike.

So lost in your own world, you didn’t notice that someone had come up beside you, keeping pace with your chipper steps. When you did notice though, you nearly jumped out of your skin, releasing a squeal and flailing your arms a bit in surprise. Your head whipped around and you stared wide-eyed at the man next to you, knowing immediately who it was from attire alone. You halted in your tracks, still in awe at what was happening, and after a few steps, he slowed and looked back at you, clearly amused at your antics. He continued walking, but raised an eyebrow at you, as if asking you if you were going to continue on as well. You quickly follow, wordlessly following him until you were in-step with him again. You both broke your gazes, him looking forward while you took to looking at your feet. It was silent for a moment, and you turned down the volume on your headphones so you could hear his footsteps falling next to you.

Again, your heart picked up a wild pace, violently aware of his close proximity and the fact that he was voluntarily walking beside you. You tried to walk naturally, but you found yourself having difficulty remembering how to breathe properly, let alone how you normally walk. What was happening right now? Were the two of you really walking side by side like… like friends? Your brain began getting fuzzy, but your trance was quickly broken by the sound of his deep voice—

“You recognized me right away, didn’t you?” –speaking perfect English nonetheless. You suppressed the urge to choke in response to hearing him speak, and simply snapped your head around to look at him with eyes the size to saucers. Your breath hitched as you tried to formulate a response when he spoke again, “Thanks for not… uh…” he waved his hands around a bit as if trying to describe an action as he thought of a particular word. Realization lit up his eyes as he continued. “…freaking out.” He finished, looking down at your shocked face. You saw the cloth of the face mask shift a bit and you assumed that he was smiling. You swallowed your nerves best you could to try and answer him because— dear God— Kim Namjoon was trying to have a conversation with you and you’ll be damned if the best you could do was stare at him like a deer in headlights!

“Uh, y-yeah, I mean, n-no problem.” You squeaked out with some success while managing to slide a smile onto your lips. Was it just you, or was the rain suddenly boiling hot? Like really, really hot? He gave you a small nod before releasing you from his gaze and you let out a shaky breath as you looked at the path in front of you again, trying to get your heart to beat regularly again. He gave you no opportunity to recover, however.

“So…” He started again, hesitating a bit. You looked back up at him; he wanted to talk with you more? “…you know me…” He said, as if it wasn’t an obvious fact already at this point. “…can I…” He hesitated again, looking at you briefly before shyly turning away. “…know… you…?” Holy shit— what kind of magical alternate universe was this? You blinked at him, catching onto the timid tone of his voice, as if he was uncertain of his wording or the question itself or possibly both. Either way, your face immediately flushed red. Kim Namjoon was… bashful? You couldn’t comprehend how absolutely endearing that was and it took you a little longer than you would have liked to formulate a response. You felt the energy around him tense in nervousness and you realized that you had just been staring at him silently. You responded in panic—

“I’m Y/N!” You said quickly, and you watched his shoulders relax a bit at the sound of your voice. You swallowed again, not knowing what else to say, but determined to make him feel at ease with you. And that’s when the word-vomit began; “I-I’m sorry for being so awkward. It’s just that I’m— and you’re— and— y-yeah…” You wanted to smack yourself in the face for not being able to form a proper sentence. “I j-just… never thought that… uh…” You were suddenly nauseous as you felt the embarrassment rise into your throat. ‘Shit.’ Your mouth was abruptly dry and you babbling making you cringe visibly. “I-I just w-want you to b-be comfortable…” You said in a voice barely above a whisper. You glanced back up at him to see him looking at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Comfortable?” He repeated— not in a ‘what does this word mean’ kind of way, but in a ‘what do you mean’ kind of tone. You bit your lip in contemplation, still not fully believing that you were having an actual conversation with Kim-motherfluffing-Namjoon.

“I-I didn’t— don’t— want you to feel like you can’t come back here,” you gestured to the river with you hand, “just because I know who you are…” You chewed on your lower lip some more, feeling his gaze on you still. “J-just because you’re… well… you’re human too… so, you don’t have to worry about me.” You finally get out in spite of your scrambled thoughts. None of what you have said to him has been a proper sentence, and you’re not even speaking Korean— you’re speaking English, your native language, which you’ve been speaking your entire life. How is this single man able to erase your brain by simply walking next to you? “I won’t tell anyone you walk here.” Finally, a complete sentence. You let out a breath and smile at him.

He blinks at you before he looks forward once more, also letting out a breathy sound that resembles a relieved laugh, the cloth of his mask crinkling again as if he were smiling. He fidgets with the bill of his cap as he cutely watches his feet and you feel your heart swell at the sight. You can’t stop your smile from growing into a wider, more relaxed state as you let out a light giggle. You knew he could be cute, but for him to be abashed like this in front of you… was he trying to get you to fall in love with him?

Before you knew it, you were where you needed to veer off towards the city, and you regarded the sidewalk with utter disappointment. You looked over at him, still surprised that he had walked with you all the way here. Lightly clearing your throat to get his attention, you pointed at the sidewalk as the two of you approached it.

“Ah… t-this is me— I-I mean this is the way I need to go.” You internally groaned at yourself; why couldn’t you stop stuttering? You watched as he eyed the adjacent sidewalk in front of you and then returned his gaze back to you, only to nod a bit, stuffing his hands into his pockets. You nodded back with an unsure smile, trying to find a way to will yourself away from the beautiful man that just walked with you all the way through the part of your commute next to the Han River. Your resolve to go to work was wilting quickly. “I-I…” You shifted to face him completely, getting a good look at his frame for the first time since he walked up beside you. You smiled warmly, “I’m really happy that I got to talk to you.” And you genuinely were. This small conversation that you had with him was more than you could’ve ever asked for. He let you see a bit of himself that is saved for his life outside the cameras and the lights and the cheering fans. And for him to give you that… it was a feeling indescribable. You gave him the slightest bow to show your appreciation, one last smile, and then turned around to begin the rest of your commute to work.

But with your back turned, you had been unable to see him nervously shifting on his feet and rolling his shoulders. He messed with the cap under the hood of his wet sweatshirt again, clearing his throat before quickly speaking.

“Uh—!” He started, loud enough to catch your attention as you whipped around at the sound. He stood a few feet away, looking rather uncomfortable with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing his neck in a nervous fashion. He looked at the ground for a few seconds, “Can we… can I…” he cleared his throat again, then finally looking at you, those familiar eyes boring straight into your heart. “…can we… walk… together again…?” He sounded so uncertain, so nervous, so small, that your heart nearly burst. Did he realize what he was doing to you? From the looks of it, he clearly didn’t; he seemed just as anxious as you were. Your face picked up color again as you blinked, coming out of the trance he put you in. And you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face.

“Yes! Ah—” You shifted a bit in embarrassment from your outburst, glancing down at your feet before looking at him with a softer, yet no less bright, smile. “I-I’d like that.” A silence fell between you, but it was far from uncomfortable as you watched his eyes crinkle up and his mask crease from a wide smile that you knew was gracing his full lips. Again, your heart fluttered and your smile turned into a full grin that you ultimately failed to contain. You were even more unwilling to go to work now, but you knew if you didn’t then you’d end up standing in front of this perfect man grinning like a complete fool. So, against everything screaming for you to stay with him, you gave him a friendly wave, which he curtly returned, before turning and nearly bouncing away in happiness.

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When the next two days passed and your new— friend?, acquaintance?— was nowhere to be found, ‘disappointed’ was nowhere near a big enough word to describe how you felt. Not that you were expecting to see him every day, but your hopes had soared to a new altitude and was now impossible to keep in check. Kim Namjoon, the Kim Namjoon, wanted to walk with you. Although you were still uncertain as to what that included— would you also be talking? Getting to know each other? Or did he really just mean walking next to each other when you made your way to work? One thing that worked in your favor with not seeing him the last couple days was that you now had an opportunity to mentally prepare yourself for whatever these future meetings between the two of you would offer. You played scenarios in your head, acted them out in the mirror, and practiced ‘normal’ things to say to him.

You didn’t want to treat him like a celebrity— that first time the two of you spoke had caught you completely off-guard and you were a little dissatisfied in yourself. You didn’t want to play yourself as a fan talking to their idol, you wanted to be able to talk to him as just a regular person that you met along the Han River. Yes, a regular, beautiful man that made your heart want to leap from your breast. Totally normal.

And suddenly it was Friday again, and your morning routine was mundane as usual. You ate your plain breakfast, dressed in your plain work-clothes, and walked out of your plain apartment to see the usual plain road you take next to the river every day. And there, sitting on a plain bench was a not-so-plain man, dressed in jeans, a high-neck sweater, and an un-zipped hoodie while donning his usual face-mask and baseball cap. You inwardly swooned, seeing him sitting there staring out at the water.

You slowly approached, but were unsure as to what was expected of you. Do you walk right up to him? Or do you acknowledge him as you pass and let him catch up? Oh God, you didn’t prepare for this part of it! Why was something so simple so complicated in your head?! As you were caught up in your thoughts, your eyes locked on to the figure on the bench, he by chance glanced up, catching your gaze in the deep of his eyes, which were much less a stranger’s now.

At your advance, he stood from his seat on the bench to wait for you. Your face flushed in response and you sent him a smile, feeling more and more nervous the closer you got. He really was something else; he wasn’t dressed in an eye-catching fashion, or standing in an attention-grabbing way, but the space around his form had a pull about it, as if everything around him gravitated towards his being, including you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, even as you strode up beside him and paused, smiling shyly. He smiled beneath his mask as well,

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sending electricity through you and throwing your heart into overdrive. You gave a small giggle— and God you couldn’t believe you giggled in front of this man— as you shifted slightly trying to regain your composure.

“Hey,” you said back in a quieter, lighter tone. You were suddenly wrought with nerves as you tried to think of literally anything else to say to him. What happened to all of those lines you practiced in the mirror of your bathroom? Gone— your mind was a complete blank. “Ah— s-shall we…?” You wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear. However, he just nodded and gestured outwards with one of his hands, indicating that you should lead the way. You smiled gratefully and took a step forward, Namjoon following suit. For a moment the two of you walked in silence. You would have started the conversation if you were sure he wanted to talk. Or if you could fish through enough of the static in your brain to find a comment comprehensible enough to actually speak. If you had been sitting, your foot would have been going into fidget-overdrive. It was then that the man beside you cleared his throat and slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Um, so…” He didn’t look down at you this time, but as you peeked up at him you noticed a pink tint on the visible skin of his cheeks. “You’re American?” he asked, even though you guessed he probably already knew that you were. He must’ve asked simply… because he wanted to talk to you. Your heart stuttered and you let out a breathy laugh,

“Yeah,” Finally, a response where your voice didn’t shake. “I’m from New York.” You weren’t sure what else to say, seeing as the last time you tried to fill the silence between the two of you, you had ended up babbling incoherent nonsense, and you weren’t particularly looking to repeat the same humiliating performance. So, you put on a tight smile and shot quick glances up at him, hoping he’ll catch your hint. He bobbed his head a bit in a nod, registering your response.

“I really like New York.” He replied, then silence again. You both began to fidget at your own awkwardness and it was then that you heard a deep sigh followed by yet another grunt of his throat clearing. “Sorry…” He said, reaching up with his left hand to rub his shoulder slightly. “I wanted… to talk to you, but…” He let out a breathy chuckle. “…this is awkward, isn’t it?” He shifted his eyes to you for a split second before gazing back at the road. You didn’t know if you should feel bad, or elated that he felt the same way you did. You didn’t want it to be awkward, it’s just that you yourself was awkward and it seemed to manifest every time you tried to make a good impression. So, in light of the awkward atmosphere, you decided to play off of it, hoping some humor at your own expense would lighten the mood.

“Not as awkward as me almost falling on top of you the other day.” You cringed lightly at the memory, but let out a soft laugh and grinned through it. You began to relax when you heard him mirror your laugh and saw his face mask crinkle again. You let out a sigh of relief that turned into another laugh, finally feeling as if you’ve said something right.

“I was so… shocked,” He said, and you could hear the smile he still held on his face. “I thought a fan had grabbed me.” He shook his head as if to illustrate how unnerved he had been at the time. You smiled and bit your lip,

“Technically, a fan did grab you,” You shrugged playfully, slightly raising one of your eyebrows when you looked up at him. His deep laugh hit your ears again, more pronounced this time, and you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart skip at the sound. You couldn’t help musing on how beautiful it was.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you could see a playful glint in his eyes when he peered down at you, and you were glad to see that he was relaxing too. “But since it’s you… it’s okay.” If your face hadn’t been pink before from the sound of his laugh, it was brighter than a cherry-red Ferrari at the utterance of those words. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs and you found yourself short of breath. Oh sweet Jesus— was he doing this on purpose? He was an idol, it was his job to know how to rile up the fans, but something about the way he stared at his feet daring only to glance at you for no more than a split second at a time made you believe that he was indeed being sincere. And you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. You exhaled a silent breath to sedate your heart’s nervous thumping before speaking again.

“I really am sorry about that…” As if you hadn’t already made it obvious from the profuse apologies that had left your lips at the time of the incident. You were of mostly clear mind now, so you could better express your remorse for having accidentally yanked on the back of his sweatshirt that day. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” You fiddled with the bottom of your shirt, trying desperately not to re-imagine that time. He laughed again, and you found yourself wishing that your days could be filled with that sound.

“It’s okay,” the smile under his mask was obvious now, and a light blush dusted at his face. “You were… your Korean was… cute.” He muttered, shrugging as if trying to act like the statement was nonchalant, but the almost unnoticeable twitching of his fingers in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he nervously picked at the inside fabric told you he understood how those words could be interpreted. And it set your body ablaze. You could feel the fire rushing through your veins as your palms began to sweat and your body tensed, trying not to show your reaction to his sudden comment.

“I-I’m not very good at Korean yet…” stammering as usual, your earlier confidence streak came to an abrupt end when the word ‘cute’ slipped through the lips of the man walking casually beside you. He looked down at you, and you’re again made aware of just how much taller he is of you.

“It’s good I know English, then, huh?” He teased, and God your heart should have stopped. How you were still breathing was beyond you and— wait, you were breathing right? As if to check your lungs, you discretely but a hand near your diaphragm, relieved to feel it shift beneath your fingers shallowly. Quickly nodding in response, you smiled at him before realizing you were at your destination to depart from the road along the Han River. Your destination where you were forced to part from Kim Namjoon. He noticed as well and slowed his pace as the two of you neared your veer-off point. You hesitantly looked at your feet and came to a stop in front of him, turning to face him in order to part. “Ah, this is where you leave…” He muttered, glancing around a bit as you nod at him. He pauses a moment before reaching up and sliding his mask off his face and under his chin, letting the elastic bands behind his ears do their job. Your voice caught in your throat at the sight of his face bared to you once more and you tried to soak in the sight of it once more. Surely someone so beautiful couldn’t be standing in front of you, smiling down at you as if you had known each other all along?

Your eyes snapped to his mouth when his tongue flitted over his lips to moisten them. Sweet Mary Mother of God, he wasn’t thinking about kissing you, was he? Why were you thinking about kissing him? He’s an idol for the love of God, there’s no way he’d kiss you! You felt panic rise in your chest, but it was immediately squelched by his soothing baritone voice. You weren’t much too surprised to find a twinge of disappointment when a kiss didn’t come, but your daydreams expected too much from reality. “I’ll… see you again?” He asked, as if he were nervous that you wouldn’t want to spend time with him once more. Your eyes lit up at the question and you sent him the brightest smile you could muster.

“Yes!” the cheer in your voice almost made you cringe, but you were pleased to see his face brighten at your answer. Ah… could he be cuter? Such an expression on such a manly face was more than you could handle and you felt your brain turn into euphoric mush at the sight. He embarrassedly looked down at his feet, trying to rein in his smile before slipping the mask back up his face to rest on the bridge of his nose. He looked back at you, his eyes still shining. You were doing no better trying to control your appearance as you laughed lightly, waving at him as you took a few steps towards the path. He pulled his hand out of his pocket to return the wave and it was then that you slowly turned around to continue your walk to work, where you knew you were going to be more than a little bit distracted.

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Over the next week and a half, you saw your new, secret idol friend often on your way to work. It wasn’t every day, not that you had expected it to be, but the days where you did see him were better than the last. You would step onto the path at around 6:15am every morning and immediately look to the bench that you had found him waiting on after he had asked to walk with you. Some days it was vacant and other days there were strangers relaxing in the brisk morning air. But on the days you loved most there was a familiar figure, wearing familiar clothes, with a familiar baseball cap and face mask covering his stunning features. He would look up at you when he noticed your approach and stand, patiently waiting for you to reach his side before falling into stride with you.

He always waited for you on that bench— it had quickly become your marker on whether or not you would be graced by his presence that day. And you always hoped to see his lean figure lounging back looking out at the river or hunched forward tinkering on his phone as he awaited your appearance. It didn’t take you long to recognize the bench as the one he had been loitering on the day he saw your small skirmish with the apple, and had even brought it up in one of your conversations:

“I remember this bench,” you had said to him thoughtfully during one of your morning walks. “You got to see me nearly fist fight an apple.” You shook your head laughing, even though you were embarrassed by the ordeal still. He laughed too, remember the shocked look you had on your face as said apple hung out of your mouth.

“I remember.” A deep breath escaped his lungs. “Actually—” he started, fidgeting a bit and looked over at him with a puzzled expression. “…I was waiting for you… that day too…” He lightly cleared his throat out of awkward discomfort and his cheeks were painted over in pink. Needless to say, yours were too.

You had also mentioned to him one time that you also walked this same path Sundays when you were going to purchase your groceries for the week, and he put forth the notion that he would meet you on Sundays as well. You told him that he didn’t have to once learning that some weeks it was the only day off he was granted, but he simply shrugged, explaining that it was relaxing to be with you. You pretended to hesitantly accept his offer then, excitement growing within you as the two of you set a time and you couldn’t help but think that it sounded much like planning a date. You met on the next three Sundays at the same time.

To say that you were not just walking, but living on cloud nine was an understatement. No daydreams or fantasies could have prepared you for the events of your life in Seoul. Erin still badgered you about your constant chipper mood, demanding to know who it was that was making you so happy— you had even gone out with her and your coworkers a few times in the last couple of weeks. Only on Friday nights though; Sunday mornings were reserved and you didn’t want to have to be nursing a hangover during one of your walks with Namjoon. One night your friend had managed to get you intoxicated enough that you almost spilled your secret, but your heart was thankfully stronger than your brain that night and you had simply held out a drunken finger to her lips and shushed her, shaking your head and saying in slurred words “It’s a secret.”

That indefinitely set her off for the next week, and she constantly hounded you, trying to guess who it was. But the truth was far more unbelievable than anything the imagination could come up with, so you always simply laughed and managed to hold off her curiosity until the end of the day. It wasn’t until recently that you realized that you had already been in Korea for three months; two of which were filled with memories of walking alongside the Han River with the BTS idol.

Over the course of your meetings, you had become accustomed to the sound of his voice, his stride when he walked, and small mannerisms that made Namjoon, Namjoon, and after your initially star-struck mind had cleared enough to notice these things, you never truly felt like you were talking to an idol. He was just a man that you were slowly getting to know, and slowly falling in love with.

The moment you felt the twinge in your heart become a full-blown ache, you knew you were in trouble. Early-on in your meetings, you had made yourself promise that there would be no romantic feelings attached. You should have known better than to make empty promises to yourself. How could you not fall in love with him? Especially once you had the opportunity to learn about him yourself on a personal level— it had been inevitable.

You had to constantly remind yourself to quell your feelings for him each morning before you knew whether or not you’d be seeing him that day. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable with obvious affections towards him. Whatever fragile friendship the two of you had created the last two months would surely be over if he caught any indication that you were interested in him as more than a friend.

There were times though that you saw a small glimmer on his face that made you wish that he felt the same towards you. Wished, hoped, that he could possibly regard you in the same way. Alas, you knew better. Any rational human being would know that Kim Namjoon is an exceptional man with exceptional talents and who deserved an exceptional woman. You, much to your chagrin, were not exceptional. You knew that you were not a good fit for the beautiful idol, no matter how much you longed to be. And even in the small moments where you see the little gleams within the dark depths of his eyes when they looked at you, your brain was quick to remind you of this fact and the disappointment set into your gut immediately.

You never let these emotions deter you from enjoying your time with Namjoon, however. Every moment with him was pure bliss and you never once found yourself dwelling over your disappointment when in his company. He was an easy fellow to talk to, to laugh with. He was witty, funny, and awkward in the most endearing ways a person could be. His personality meshed alarmingly well with yours; almost like the two of you had been destined to be friends. And you were content with that.

Today was Sunday again, and at 7:30am you made your way to the bench where you know he’d be waiting. You hummed happily, wondering what the two of you would be talking about today on your slightly longer trip to the market. You had allotted about twenty minutes of your morning before leaving your apartment to do your routine emotion-check to make sure you had the ability to mask them well enough to keep them from the man you saw sitting comfortably on the wooden bench overlooking the river. You smiled as you picked up your pace to a light jog before stopping in front of him where he was still seated. ‘Odd,’ you thought, ‘he’s usually standing before I can get to him.’ You tried not to let it bother you too much, but you had a habit of over-thinking things. You tried to push your concerns to the back of your mind, telling yourself that everyone has their off-days. Luckily it wasn’t too long after you planted yourself in front of him that he looked up at you with smiling eyes, mask crinkling in a similar fashion, and stood up.

“Ready?” He asked, to which you smiled and nodded. As the two of you turned to begin your stroll, you took a quick once-over at his attire for the day, noticing that it wasn’t his usual laid-back lounge clothes. He was in a long black sweater that reached about mid-calf and beneath it he wore a simple white tee that was tucked neatly into black ripped jeans. A statement belt adorned his hips and clearly expensive grey Timberlands gave his look a clean feel to it. His usual baseball cap was replaced by a black snapback with ‘YOUTH’ written across the bottom of the bill, leaving the only thing you recognized was the white mask covering the better part of his face. He looked good— very good. You almost pouted when you tore your gaze away from him. Still, dressed like that, was he going somewhere?

“How was your morning?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him, trying to register the question he just asked you. Your mouth moved before your brain could come up with anything cleverer—

“Good, the usual,” You almost groaned at the simple response. It’s been two months, why were you regressing in your communication skills with him? But as you glanced back over at him, you took in his outfit again. “You’re dressed nice today,” you spoke, blushing a bit at your own compliment. “Are you going somewhere?” You blink at him with curiosity when he pauses longer than usual. He looks hesitant to answer, but gives a light sigh when he seems to realize that he can’t avoid having the conversation.

“Yeah, actually,” He started, his shoulders slumping a bit as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I… ah…” he tilted his head to the side and his brows furrowed a bit. He still hasn’t looked back at you. “…I wanted to tell you sooner, but…” Another sigh. “…we’re… I’m leaving. To America for a tour.” He finally glanced at you, the look in his eyes slightly solemn as he tried to express his melancholy about the situation. You felt your heart drop into your stomach like a rock at the thought of him leaving, and you knew that your face mirrored your distress. You tried to recover quickly by sending him a small smile.

“That’s good though, right?” You tried to cheer him up by pointing out the pros of the circumstances. “You’ll get to see your fans in America— they love you.” You almost wanted to add in ‘me too,’ but decided strongly against it. “Plus, you can do things that you can only do in the U.S.” He nodded in agreement, but he still seemed conflicted. You hummed a little, trying to come up with another positive point, but another question nagged its way to the front of your mind. “Um… how long are you going to be there?” And now you were hesitant with what you said, mirroring his uncomfortable guise and looking at the ground.

“Ah… a month…” Another rock hit your gut. Four weeks without your walking buddy? Four weeks without the person who made your heart beat erratically with adoration? Four weeks without Kim Namjoon? You tried your best to hide your distress, but knew you were failing at it when he withdrew his hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

“Oh…” was all you could say. You tried to breath normally, but panic was setting into your bones and you tried to calm yourself by releasing a shaky breath. “W-when do you leave?” You almost didn’t want to hear the answer.

“This afternoon…” He gazed at you apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” You were upset, how could you not be after finding out that he was leaving for a month in mere hours? Though to be fair, the two of you hadn’t known each other for very long. It wasn’t like he necessarily owed you an explanation, and you understood that. It was his courteous nature that made him tell you in the first place, and that same nature that lead him to feel apologetic for only telling you now. You kept your gaze to the ground, almost afraid that you’d start to tear up should you see his face. When did you become so emotionally involved with this man?

“It’s okay,” your voice was quiet, but resolved. It was okay, really— it wasn’t like he had much choice having to leave, and it probably wouldn’t have been easier for you had he told you earlier if you were being honest. You peeked up at the road in front of you, seeing where the path took you upwards on a flight of stairs towards the direction of the grocery store. This is where you left him. But this time it wasn’t for a day or two. No, today, this is where you would leave him for the next thirty days. Or more, even. Who knew when the next time the two of you would be able to see each other? Or if you’d ever see each other again?

Thinking about it was doing you no good, but you knew that the time to say goodbye was here. You chewed on your bottom lip as you worked up enough nerve to turn to him and he mirrored you, hands still in his pockets for the time being. You both stood in silence for what seemed like ages, neither one of you wanting to sat those dreaded words. As each second ticked by, you could feel yourself becoming more and more emotional and you knew you would burst into tears in front of him if you didn’t walk away soon. You looked at the ground again as you pushed pebbles around with the tip of your shoe.

“I guess…” you started, hoping that your voice wouldn’t crack or get stuck in your throat. “…have fun in the states…” You smiled at your shoes, wishing that you had the courage to send that smile to him. Wishing you had the courage to tell him that you didn’t want him to go. Wishing you had the courage to tell him those taboo feelings that squeezed at your heart this very moment. But all of those things would make his leaving harder, and with one last small surge of bravery, you took a step around him, muttering, “…I’ll see you around…” even though you knew you wouldn’t. Goodbye was just too hard to utter.

As you ascended the concrete stairs leading away from the Han River and Kim Namjoon, you didn’t see that after only mere steps, said idol stopped walking and turned back around to face the direction you were walking. You didn’t see the nervous shuffle of his feet, or the way he lifted his snapback briefly to run a hand through his dark hair in frustration. And if it weren’t for the hurried footsteps following you up the stairs, you certainly wouldn’t have seen him climbing after you.

“Y/N—” He said in a flustered tone. You whipped around to look at him, shocked to hear him so close to you. He was taller than you, but being a few steps behind you left him at eye-level, and you were able to easily peer into his brown orbs, widened slightly in panic. You were both frozen for a moment, mutually a bit shocked at his actions. After the silence dragged on for a second too long you spoke up,

“Y-yeah?” was all you managed. You heard him inhale deeply before he reached up and yanked the mask off his face to have it rest beneath his chin. He had a hint of worry in his eyes, but the over-all expression he showcased to you was serious, confident; the way you imagined he would look on stage. He had been so goofy and bashful most of the time with you until this moment, this was a new expression. And it sent heat to your core immediately.

“I…” he swallowed, “I want to see you again… keep seeing you… after I get back…” Another wave of shock numbed your body— this… did he really say that? You opened your mouth as if to reply, but you quickly shut it when you realized that no sound was produced. He continued, “Can I… meet you there again?” ‘There’— you knew he meant the bench. His bench. You continued to stare.

“Y-you…” your stuttering has seemed to come back in full force much to your disdain. “…yes…” You managed to squeak out softly. Yes, you wanted that. You wanted that more than anything. You wanted to ask him about his tour, how it went, if he had any difficulties, if he had fun. You wanted to keep learning about him, laughing with him. You wanted to keep falling in love with him, even if he never returned your feelings. “Yes; I want to see you again, too.” Your voice was firmer this time, fractionally mirroring the look on his face.

Relief washed over the concern in his eyes at hearing the response he had hoped to hear and you had been glad to give it to him. A small smile spread across your lips as the corner of his turned upwards. And you thought that you could contently stare at his smile forever, but in a split second, you were seeing stars instead.

You hadn’t seen it coming— it was too abrupt, too unexpected, and you were caught completely off guard. He had taken one quick step forward, leaning towards you in the process and catching each of your hands in his before pressing his plush lips to your cheek. Your mind reeled at the sudden and new development, and all you could focus on was the warm tingle that spread from his soft lips to your skin.

He, Kim Namjoon, was kissing you— granted, it wasn’t a kiss that could be shared between you, but it was one that he was giving, which was just as precious an act. The combination of the kiss and the way his hands gently held yours seemed to say ‘thank you’, ‘I’ll come back for you’, and ‘you are precious’. Your heart was just about to leap from your chest when he detached from your cheek; but he never let go of your hands. He stared into your eyes, abashed at his own forwardness, but his gaze was intense nonetheless. You couldn’t feel it, but you knew that your face was sporting a strawberry-esque color and a shocked expression. Your lips twitched into a smile. This was, to a degree, an affirmation of the impossible— this extraordinary man, a man of many talents, of many names, but, ultimately still, one Kim Namjoon, harbored affections towards you. To what extent, you couldn’t be sure, but this was more than you could had ever imagined possible. And you didn’t need a confession of undying love; an act as simple as this was bigger than words.

“I’ll do that properly next time…” He said, his voice deeper and smoother than it had been a moment ago and it sent chills through your body, the implication of ‘properly’ going over your head in your shocked state. “I have to go,” He said, giving your hands a light squeeze. “I’ll see you soon.” You gave little squeeze in return before he stepped back and his hands slipped from yours. He smiled at you; a pure, genuine smile, with warmth flooding his eyes before he tugged the mask back up his face and turned around to descend down the stairs. He looked back at you only once when he got to the bottom and gave you a small nod, much like the ones the two of you had exchanged in the beginning of this rather odd relationship. You smiled brightly at the gesture and nodded back, after which he gazed at you only a moment longer before turning and walking away.

You watched him leave, studying his retreating figure and recording it in your memory. You never thought it would have ended up like this, your life in Korea. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought a situation like this possible; not for you. Yet, here you were, watching Kim Namjoon walk away after placing the most meaningful kiss to your cheek and promising a future reunion. ‘Next time…’ you thought to yourself. Ah, what would ‘next time’ hold here at Han River, Seoul?

[END]

534 notes · View notes

tetrakys · 5 years

Text

Memories lost, Memories found - Armin

This ended up being way longer than expected, and I am not sure I am ever going to write about Armin again, it’s painful and this took everything I had from me.

First, read the Intro here.

I looked around the square trying to get my bearings. This had probably been a stupid idea. After the longest and most uncomfortable bus trip ever, I didn’t even know Armin’s precise address. That night at the Snake Room Alexy had blurted out just the name of the town and neighbourhood. I looked at my phone biting my lower lip pensively… I had only two options, call Alexy and ask for his brother’s full address or give up and go back home.

I wasn’t sure Alexy was willing to talk though, after what had happened between him and Rosa I didn’t know where we stood. However, I was willing to beg. I knew exactly what was waiting for me back home, uncertainty and drama. I had been almost on the verge to offer my heart and body to someone just a couple of days ago, and now… now I wondered if there was anything left to offer at all. I had already given both to someone else a long time ago.

I was just about to look up Alexy’s number when something caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks in front of a gaming shop, a sign hanging on the door:

‘Last One Standing tournament TONIGHT!’

Armin loved this game. I remembered the hours spent playing together in his room, we both had a serious competitive streak. We could spend the whole day just playing and eating take out. Sometimes… well, many times, the passion we put in the game turned into something else and we ended up getting distracted for a while. Had there ever been happier days than those when all I needed was my laptop, a slice of cold pizza and him?

I pushed the door and walked into the shop. A brief conversation with the sales assistant confirmed that the competition was about to start but I was just in time to join the if I wished to. Mostly, he was probably surprised, usually there weren’t many hardcore girl players. At least not many respects to the sheer number of male players anyway. I payed my entrance fee and headed to the basement.

Of course the competition was in a basement, or rather the ‘gaming den’ as he had called it. The place was very dark, and each gaming-station, there were about fifty of them, had everything any geek could hope for: state of the art gaming gear, energy drinks, snacks… also everything was positioned in a way to guarantee each player their own privacy for maximal concentration.

I only had a few minutes to set me up and log in. I froze when I got to the choose-your-nickname section, memories rushing over me.

—–o—–

“Why do you always choose the same nickname?” Armin asked me, turning around in his desk chair.

“You are not very original yourself” I pointed out from his bed, “yours is always one of the Ninja Turtle’s names.”

“At least I have four to choose from depending on my mood, and it totally makes sense, the TMNTs are my spirit animals” he replied “you can’t deny how much we have in common” he grinned pointing at the half empty pizza box and his small collection of nunchakus and sai on the walls.

“I do see a resemblance…” I said with a fake pensive tone of voice. He threw a pillow at me that I easily dodged.

“I am serious though, you always use either Tetraktys or a misspelled version of it, what does it even mean?”

“The Tetraktys was a sacred metaphysical symbol for Pythagoras and his disciples” I explained, “You can see it as a geometrical representation of the number 10 as the fourth triangular number. It has many meanings and embraces in itself the harmony of the cosmos and the divine. It was seen as the image of perfection and, well, of course, it reminds me to aim to perfection in everything I do.” I grinned “the misspelling part is my way of pointing out that something imperfect can be perfect in its own way.”

He just looked at me for a few moments, then joined me on the bed. Hovering over me, his hands at each side of my head, eyes staring into mine “You do are perfect, you even educate me on ancient philosophy.”

I cupped his face with my hands “Happy to oblige” my lips drawing closer and closer to his.

—–o—–

I shook my head to wake up from my daze, I didn’t have time to walk down memory lane. I wasn’t sure Armin was even in this room, but if he was I didn’t want to be too obvious. I wrote Tenn in the nickname space and chose my character. I picked Syberia, she was my favourite, very fast and perfect for long range shooting. The upside was that she usually wasn’t great for close quarters combats, but I knew her as the back of my hand and, in time, I had created my own fighting strategy.

Last One Standing was a game of strategy more than brute force. It consisted of three levels each one different but just as complicated as the others.

I waited for the first level to load. This part was about environment survival: the game loaded some kind of scenario for all players to face, it could be a jungle, an alien invasion, or something similar. Everyone had an hour to get to the safe zone, all players out of it at the end of the timer’s countdown were eliminated.

I stared at the screen, my heart beating fast, the list of players rolling in front of my eyes.

Tenn entered the area

Asterfox entered the area

Shaman entered the area

…

Other thirty or so names followed, then finally

Michelangelo entered the area

I knew it! It was him, it had to be him.

And now? It wasn’t like I had a proper plan, I had (possibly) found him which had been my goal all along, should I just get up and go talk to him? To say what? I wasn’t sure I would accomplish anything other than ruin his night.

I was still trying to figure out what to do, when the first level scenario loaded, and a very distinct memory came back to mind.

—–o—–

“Welcome to Zombie city, Candy” he said gesturing towards the screen, a few days after he had introduced me to the game for the first time.

“Yikes zombies! Disgusting things, I am going to kill them all!” I replied eagerly.

“You will do no such thing” his voice serious “the level starts with just a few of them here and there, but the longer it takes you to reach the safe zone, the more of them appear. At some point it’s going to get impossible to move forward unless you have incredible fire power, and even then, only reckless players or thrill seekers are going to choose that option. No, the smartest way to get to the safe zone is this.” He pointed to a specific route on the map that read ‘sewers’.

“You are kidding, right?” I replied dumbfounded.

“You don’t believe me?”

I shook my head. We teased each other half of the time, it wouldn’t be the first time he pulled something like this just to get a good laugh.

“Go on then, run through the city, collect weapons, try whatever you want and see how it goes.”

“You can be on it! It’s on!”

It was a disaster, I died in the first five minutes. The second time was even worse. Eventually, at some point, after many maaaaany attempts, I managed to get to the safe zone. But he was right, it wasn’t worth it, the fire power alone and the time it took was just too much.

“Fine!” I cried out, throwing the gamepad on the bed out of spite. “You were right, happy?”

“Immensely” he grinned with mischief “I do love the fact you spent most part of the night relentlessly trying until you made it though. I find it really sexy” he added with a glint in his eyes.

“How sexy?” I replied raising a highbrow, turning slowly towards him.

“Very.”

—–o—–

I knew what to do.

As soon as the countdown started I headed straight for the sewers entrance. I could tell from the little red dots on the map that about seven other people had had the same idea. Once I got there I knew I had been right all along. The player called Michelangelo was there too, he had chosen Markus, a big tank who was great for hand to hand combat, but slightly slower than average without a boost. It was Armin’s favourite character and, if it wasn’t proof enough, he was wearing a blue beanie. The beanie was Armin’s good luck charm.

I stared at the screen like I was trying to drill a hole through it. We were together in the same room, but more than that we were in our element, playing together. I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought, we had to run, sewers were safer but not completely zombie-free.

My character was the fastest one in the group, so I was immediately in front of the pack. I was so focused on just running and surviving the first level that I didn’t notice the recess in the wall until the in-game chat lit up.

Michelangelo wrote: Watch out on your left!

I sidestepped the zombie at the very last moment, one millisecond later and it would have been on me. Given Syberia’s stats it would have been a real pain to get it off in such small quarters.

Tenn wrote: Thanks, it almost got me.

SpiderWeb wrote: Dude, shut up. Less competition in the final level.

Michelangelo wrote: Level 2 is team-up dumbass, any strong team needs a Syberia.

I knew how he felt about team stats, but I also knew that he was just a nice person. I was happy to see some things hadn’t changed.

SpiderWeb started replying obscenities, but dividing his attentions between two tasks was complicated. I chuckled between myself when I saw him being tackled by two zombies soon afterwards.

The next fifteen minutes became a frenzy of just running and dodging. I was a little rusty and risked getting caught a few other times. I hadn’t played in a while, now that I thought about it… I hadn’t played since our breakup. There wasn’t a specific reason why, I had loved the game in the past, but more than anything I had loved playing with him. At the end of the day it didn’t seem to make much sense to play without him. It just hurt.

After another couple of minutes, I managed to fall back into a familiar rhythm, I felt confident enough to start keeping an eye on Armin’s game. Markus wasn’t very fast without a boost, and there had been none to collect in the sewers to this point, so he couldn’t hope to dodge all the zombies like my character did, however he was very good at hand to hand combat. Also, Armin was a real pro at that, he could do miracles with just a pocket knife. I saw him pinning a zombie to the wall and stabbing it in the temple and, ten seconds later, kicking another one in the guts and stomping on its head.

Hot.

Soon after I reached the last turn, but stopped right before entering the safe zone. Level 2 was a co-op game, people who completed level 1 close to the same time ended up in the same group and had to survive it together. Groups were usually of around five or six players, so I had to be careful if I wanted to be sure to end up in the same group as Armin.

I had been chilling in front of the finish line for a couple of minutes when I saw him running towards it. When he crossed it, we did it together. A few seconds later my private chat lit up.

Michelangelo wrote: were you waiting for me?

Tenn wrote: I saw you playing back there, I wanted to make sure to team up with good players for the next round.

Michelangelo wrote: I’m flattered, I hope we end up in the same team, you’re not too bad yourself. Also, I’m partial to Syberia.

My heart skipped a beat, was it because the character reminded him of me?

—–o—–

“Come on Candy, are you ready? We don’t have the whole day.”

“Get in here if you are bored” I replied from the other side of the door, taking one last look at my reflection in the mirror. Tight brown leather trousers, dark green tank top that left part of my midriff exposed and knee-high military boots. I tied my long hair in a ponytail before setting aside the fake shotgun to open the changing room door and letting him in.

“Wow!” Armin looked me up and down with a glint in his eyes “you are every nerd’s wet dream. I’m not sure I should let you walk around Comicon dressed like this.”

“Please” I replied with a dismissive snort “there isn’t a single jealous bone in your body.” I turned back to the mirror and leaned forward to apply some lipstick. I should have probably been the one on the lookout, in that full military attire (bar the beanie) he made for a really dashing Markus.

He locked the door before coming to stand at my back, putting his hands on my hips.

“You’re the sexiest Syberia I have ever seen” he whispered in my ear “all those geeks on the other side of this wall can only dream abut touching you.” His hard chest pressed against my back, our eyes locked in the mirror. “But that’s the only thing they can do… dream.” Running his tongue from the bottom of my neck up to my ear, he caught my lob in his teeth.

“Armin…” I moaned “what are you doing… we don’t have time for this.”

His right hand came up to my breast, while his left one made its way down the hem of my pants.

“No one else can touch you Candy” he whispered, brushing against my sensitive spot, dragging a groan from deep in my throat. “Let me hear you say it.”

“No one can touch me” I shivered in his embrace, his fingers keeping their circling motion.

“Only me.”

“Only you.”

—–o—–

Michelangelo wrote: I mean… It’s always useful to have a good sniper in your team.

Tenn wrote: Yes. Plus, Syberia is hot. Every nerd’s wet dream, right?

A part of me wanted to bait him, confuse him, make him wonder. I hadn’t talked to him in four years and now that we were finally here… I was kinda pissed. Fuck… was this my great plan? Catfish him?

Level 2 loaded, my plan had worked, Armin and I were on the same team. All players had been divided in small teams with randomly assigned names (we were The Eagles), and each had a mission that was either to protect a suitcase from another team or steal it from them. This time we were the protectors.

I smirked, I knew Armin would not be happy, he much preferred being on the offense side. I, on the other hand, was in my element and knew exactly what to do.

“Okay guys” un unknown voice spoke to my ear making me jump in my chair “let’s talk about this.”

Fuck… fuck fuck fuck!!! I had completely forgotten that this part of the game allowed for the players to communicate through their microphones. What was I going to do now? He was going to recognise me right away; four years wasn’t that long of a time to forget someone’s voice.

“Tenn should cover the area from the top of the building.” My heart skipped a beat, it was him! His voice… I would recognise it between thousands. “SpiderWeb should stay back and take out any enemy that manages to infiltrate the outpost. I am going to draw attention to myself at the entrance while GhostVoid and Silver take them out.”

I recognised the nicknames of some of the players who had been in the sewers with us. Damn… the idiot from before was here too.

“Who made you captain of the team, asshole?” SpiderWeb replied as expected.

“If you have a better idea I am all ears” Armin replied calmly.

“Yes I do, I don’t see why I should stay back and leave all the fun to you.”

“Michelangelo is right” a guy, Silver, replied. His character was Lilith, a little girl with pigtails and a huge axe. She was absolutely devastating but easily damageable, she needed a tank to take her hits and Markus was perfect. “Your character, Teslan, is a ninja assassin, he moves in the shadows and specialises in sneak attacks, he should stay inside and protect the target.”

“Teslan is also good for open attacks, let GhostVoid be at the back!”

“But it makes no sense!” GhostVoid cried “I’m a nuker!”

They fought about this for a while, in the end SpiderWeb begrudgingly accepted to wait inside.

“You haven’t said a word Tenn” Armin pointed out “are you okay with this strategy?”

Here it was, the moment of truth. I deepened my voice and replied. This was going to be a disaster.

“Syberia is a sniper so that’s fine with me.”

A few seconds went by.

“Wooooow are you a chick?!” Silver exclaimed.

“Great. A girl on the team. We are fucked.” SpiderWeb said in a monotone.

“Shut up idiot!” GhostVoid replied “I swear to God if we weren’t on the same team you would be dead by now.”

They kept bantering for a few more minutes while getting into position. The game started a few minutes later. I stood on the edge of our base rooftop, rifle in my hand, waiting for the attack.

“I’m sorry about SpiderWeb” Armin’s voice said to my ears on a private communication channel “he’s a real prick.”

“None taken, I’m used to idiots underestimating me because of my gender when I play” I smirked “It usually comes to bite them right in the ass.”

He laughed, the laugh I remembered so well and hit me in the heart. “I bet it does.”

Another pause. Everyone stood still and silent while we waited for the enemy’s arrival.

“You sound familiar Tenn… where are you from?”

I closed my eyes defeated… he was onto me, I knew it! When I opened them back I instantly noticed something that only I could, thanks to my higher vantage point.

“Guys at your back!”

An enemy’s Teslan was sneaking behind my teammates to infiltrate our base. He was just about to strike Armin’s back with a fatal blow when I shot him right in the eyes and killed him instantly. Soon after all hell broke loose. The whole enemy’s team rushed to meet us on the open field.

“Thank you Tenn, a second later and I would have been a goner” Armin said in our private channel while shielding Silver and fighting the opposite team’s tank at the same time. I checked his game with admiration, he really was a force to be reckoned with. When we were together seeing him play had always turned me on a little. I kept shooting enemies whenever I had a chance, but in the crazy melee it was impossible to get another deadly shot. I managed, however, to make a few hits that saved GhostVoid and Silver in more than one occasion.

“You are great” Armin said after I hit the guy he was battling with, dropping his life span “I’m really happy I have you on my team.”

“Thanks…”

“You didn’t reply to my previous question, are you from around here?” he asked.

“Something like that…” I replied evasively.

“What’s your name?”

“So many questions… are you hitting on me?”

“What if I were… I do like hot girl gamers” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.

“How do you even know I am hot?” I asked trying to hide my nervousness.

“Your game is too good.”

“This… doesn’t make sense at all.”

In that moment I spotted SpiderWeb jumping in the fight.

“Dude, what the fuck!” GhostVoid cried “who is protecting the target now?!”

“Fuck that” SpiderWeb replied “it was boring as hell just watching you all play”

“Guys… there is a missing player in the other team” I said and quickly scanned the map “fuck there is someone in our base… they had another Teslan!”

I left there my long-shot rifle and rushed into the building armed only with a gun. I was the closest one to the target. From the headphones I could hear the voices of my team members arguing and accusing SpiderWeb who was running back trying to make it into the base. I tuned everyone out while running the remaining two flights of stairs.

The moment I got into the target area a ghastly scene presented in front of my eyes, the enemy’s second Teslan had just grabbed our suitcase and was running out of the room. If he made it out of the building we were done for.

I run after him to the hall of the building, I was never going to make it, so I stopped and took aim. Right when he was about to make it through the threshold I hit him in the back of his head, killing him instantly. A second later SpiderWeb entered the area and I shot him in the chest, killing him as well.

“Fuck!” he cried “you killed me!”

“Sorry” I replied with zero conviction “I got confused between Teslans.”

“The hell you did, bitch! You did it on purpose!”

“Mind your words, you useless prick. Another breath and I am going to have you kicked out of this place forever.” Armin replied seemingly calm but with a very cold tone. “We have won, no thanks to you, just shut up and be grateful.”

I looked at the stats and saw that he was right, while I was dealing with the target the team had managed to take out all the remaining enemies. We had won. I sighed of relief and slumped in my chair, closing my eyes.

Now the final level… all against all… no complicated rules here, the game was called Last One Standing for a reason. Looking at the screen I saw that the other battles had also ended, there were three winning teams and, since all players of a winning team moved to the final stage, there were fifteen people left in the game. Which was starting again in five minutes.

“Nice shot” Armin’s voice said, coming from my headphones.

“Thank you, but I was also lucky, the guy was almost out of the base.”

“I am talking about the one that offed SpiderWeb, but the other one was great too” I could picture the smirk on his face.

“Well… he wasn’t wrong, I can really be a bitch sometimes.”

“He deserved it, and I like this ruthless mean streak of yours. Is that how you act in real life too?” he asked.

“Tsk tsk… why do you keep asking me so many questions?”

“I’m interested.” He was serious, no hint of laughter in his voice.

“You shouldn’t be” I murmured guiltily “I’m a mess.”

“I like a challenge” he said self-confident.

“Why don’t we make this more interesting?” he said after a pause “whoever wins this can ask the other one a question.”

“Why should I agree to this?” I asked with a snort.

“Think about it. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

I thought about it for a moment. There were so many things I wanted to know. What was his life now, if he ever thought about me… if he had moved on.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

In that moment the game restarted and I run to take cover. “Deal” I said, before disappearing from the starting area. I run around for a little while deciding what to do.

There were 15 players, the best and safest option was to hide for a while and let them murder each other until there were just a few of them left. The setting was a post-apocalyptic city and, in a street, I found an abandoned building that looked promising. There was no map in this level and I couldn’t see where the everyone was, the only indication of the state of the game was the players count on the side of the screen and the announcement that appeared anytime a player was taken out and by whom.

I got in the building and ended up face to face with a someone right away. So much for the idea of the place being empty I thought. He must have been even more surprised than I was because, gun already in my hand, I managed to shoot him killing him immediately. The count went down by one and the message ‘Asterfox was killed by Tenn’ appeared on the right side of the screen.

I paused for a second, checking if anyone else was in the area and, when no one came out to kill me, I went upstairs and, laying on the rooftop, bracing my rifle, I waited while looking at the street below me. I had no intention of drawing attention to myself, so I was going to shoot only if I was sure I had a perfect chance for an instant-kill.

With that strategy I managed to take out another couple of players. After fifteen minutes there were only six left. Soon after the message ‘SpiderWeb was killed by Michelangelo’ appeared on the screen. I smirked, five to go.

“Where are you Tenn?” said Armin’s voice to my ear, our private channel still open.

“Like I am going to tell you” I snorted.

“Nah, that’s good. I like the chase” laughter in his voice, “some things are worth fighting for.”

I drew my breath feeling like I had been suckerpunched.

—–o—–

I was on the bed, laying on my side and hugging my knees to my chest. I was so tired… my eyes were red and swollen, having been crying for the past hour. Since our phone call.

“I am tired Armin” I had said “I don’t feel close to you anymore.”

Last time I had seen him had been three months before, when he had managed to visit me for a weekend.

“You are the one who left Candy. I am trying here, I really am. You are the one who is always busy either with school or new friends” he sounded defeated, we both were. This wasn’t the first time we were having that discussion. “Maybe some things are not meant to be and not worth fighting for.”

After those words I knew it was going to be the last.

—–o—–

“What do you mean?” I asked him, my voice barely shaking.

“That I learned the hard way when it’s time to give up.”

Hot rage washed over me. In that moment I saw him running below my outpost and went for the kill. I really hadn’t thought it through because the position was completely off and I missed him by a long shot. That, however, had been enough to alert him of my position.

“Gotcha!” I saw him running towards my building. I had to leave the roof immediately.

I had just made it down the stairs when he barged into the building and, a moment later, we were both standing there, our guns pointed to each other.

“Well…” he said chuckling “isn’t this a classic case of Mexican standoff. Really funny.”

“Funny?” I barked “nothing funny about it.”

“Oh yes, very funny indeed, because whatever happens to this point on, I have already won.”

“W-what?”

“Yes, if I shoot and kill you, I can ask you whatever I want. If you kill me, you can ask me whatever you want, effectively achieving my goal of having a conversation face to face with you. So winning in the end doesn’t really matter anymore. I would love to be the one running the show though, so I am going to try to win this anyway.”

“Would you throw away the whole competition?” I replied with poison in my voice, “the moment you shoot me I am out of here, and you still have other three people to take before winning the game.”

“I don’t care. As I said, some things are worth fighting for.”

Picking up a stranger girl in a game yes, but me? Not me.

“Well, maybe there’s nothing worth for me here” I pointed my gun at my own temple. “Goodbye Armin” I said, and shoot.

The moment my screen went black I was gathering my things and running out of the shop as fast as I could.

I heard a “Shit!” at my back but didn’t bother turning around. I knew I had surprised him, no one had killed the other, I didn’t owe him any fucking conversation whatsoever.

I got drenched as soon as I stepped out of the shop, it was raining, almost storming. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, I just knew I had to make as much space between me and the man who had given up on me. The man who I loved and who hadn’t found me worth of his time since a long while ago.

“Candy, stop!”

And like a magic spell, I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. We were at the opposite ends of a narrow alley, it was so dark and the rain so heavy that I could barely see two feet in front of me. But I could hear his steps while approaching me. A few moments later, I raised my head and saw him standing in front of me.

Armin was exactly like I remembered him, except well… wetter. Taller and broader than one would expect anyone spending most of his days sitting in front of a pc. His black thick hair was a little longer than before, and were now plastered down to his face by the rain, and his eyes… in the dark I couldn’t see their colour, but I could never forget that deep blue I had lost myself in so many times.

We just stared at each other for a moment.

“Why are you here, Candy?” he said breathless.

“Neither of us won, I don’t have to tell you anything” I replied trying to turn around and leave, but he grabbed my arm and pushed me closer to him.

“Why did you come here?” he repeated “Don’t run away again goddammit.”

“I didn’t run away in the first place, you were the one who gave up on us”, I started to cry, luckily the rain was masking my tears.

“We both did. You had your new life and I was standing in your way. I was in a bad place because of my family and my crazy hacking. I wasn’t strong enough… but I am now.”

I stood there in the rain, with no idea of what to do or what to say.

“Why are you here?”

“Because… I had to know.”

“Know what?”

“How I felt about you.”

“And…?”

“It doesn’t matter” I forced myself to reply, “it’s been four years, you never came back for me.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I just did!” I cried.

“So, you are here to get back together.”

I tried to reply in protest, but his mouth came onto mine with strength, he started kissing me with a passion and ardour I hadn’t felt in so many years. He pushed me against a wall and caged me between his strong arms. His chest pressing against mine.

“I knew it was you from the moment I heard your voice” he said in between kisses “I suspected it even before, the way you play… I could recognise you anywhere, behind any mask.”

He kept kissing me and I realised I hadn’t done anything to stop him.

“When I play that game… part of me does it to feel closer to you. I see you behind every Syberia, I remember all the times we played together, all times we were together…”

He grabbed me by the back of my thighs and raised me so that my eyes were now aligned to his, and my legs around his waist.

“You left but the memory of you never did. I love you Candy, I never stopped and never will.”

Now I was the one kissing him with all I got. I put my hands under his shirt, I had to feel his warmth, to feel him.

“I love you too.”

“There’s no going back from this Candy, you’re mine” he said serious.

“I’ve always been…” then added “And you are mine.”

“Forever” he replied, staring me right in the eye.

My hands on his cheeks I stared back at him, “Forever.”

Then I kissed him again, for what would be the first of many, many times.

-----------

Edit: After a prompt request I ended up writing a NSFW sequel for this, you can find it here

#my candy love #amour sucré #dolce flirt #corazon de melon #amor doce #sweet crush #mcl armin #mcl #mclul #my writing #armin

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