#then THAT TROPE of her looking like she was going to take advantage and strike him before taking out the OTHER guy coming up behind HIM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soobnny · 2 years ago

Text

summer strike — hwang hyunjin.

trope. strangers to lovers. found family. comfort fic. heavily inspired by the kdrama

synopsis. having had enough of your life in the big city, you head to a small town where you meet a local librarian who feels a lot like love

word count. 23k words

warnings. drinking alcohol, curse words, mentions of loneliness

note. it’s out it’s out! this kdrama might be my favorite and means a lot to me so i just had to write something inspired by it. it’s basically the written form but condensed with a few changes so credits to the kdrama. i’d rly appreciate any feedback :)

one.

It happened without warning.

As you stand behind the glass doors of the building you work at, rain splits before your eyes. Drip by drip, and then a downpour. You suppose you should’ve checked the Weathers app before deciding to work overtime tonight.

You ponder over waiting it out, but there is no place to go but the train station before it takes its last trip. It’s urgent to get back to your empty apartment where it isn’t rainy and it isn’t windy and the world isn’t ending. So, you run towards the only direction you know in this city, even as rain pours over the streets.

Your soles feel heavy by the time you arrive, but you don’t allow yourself the moment to rest as you swerve through the crowds of people to get to the train doors before it closes. You wish to see a time when silence ghosts the usually busy station, but you don’t have the time. You never do. Always rushing. Always tired.

The watch on your wrist reads 8:21, and it’ll only be a few minutes before a wave of office workers litter the narrow space of the train. When they finally do, the first thing you discern is their terrible body odor—dried up sweat with a tinge of alcohol. It no longer surprises you, so used to the fuckery that is your life.

Instead, you plug in your earphones to drown out their voices, listening to the kind of music that drags you back to a childhood memory. It sounds like popsicles, like wind blowing through your hair as you’re being pushed from the swing, like running on concrete barefooted, like the laughter of someone you love.

Now, you live in a city of strangers.

On the next stop, an old woman walks in. No one makes a move to give up their seat—too tired, too selfish, looking anywhere but the old woman. You think of how small humanity really is as you get up and gesture for her to take your seat instead. She has gone through too many years of her life to stand stuck between the terrible stench of office workers.

She holds a sweet smile as she thanks you. You don’t remember the last time someone smiled at you like that. Silver linings.

When you finally make it home, it’s nearly 9pm. This is what working 9-6 is like in the city. You live off your co-workers taking advantage of your work ethic, your boss’s bad breath yelling into your ear, and never coming home on time.

This has happened yesterday. It will happen again tomorrow.

It’s always the same. The same routine, over and over without progress. You feel like you’ve messed up somewhere. You used to have ambitions, but now you’re just a fragment of the person you used to be. The city was supposed to lead somewhere. It was supposed to be promising. But, the same tired eyes walk down the same path everyday in a dead end.

You don’t know where you went wrong.

You lay in your bed, still soaking wet, with a painful cry waiting to erupt from your throat. You hate that there’s no longer time to create happiness. It’s too late, and minutes from now, you will be asleep.

You stare at the ceiling, as you do every night before you fall asleep, and the only sounds that accompany you are the loud honks of the cars outside and your stomach grumbling. No one calls you to dinner. No one holds you to keep you warm.

It’s so lonely here.

The feeling of a hug is something you don’t see yourself remembering so you press your back further against your bed to mimic the feeling of an embrace. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the closest thing you can get after the mistake you made of thinking you were made for the city.

Though, as you keep staring at the ceiling, you start to feel sick. You don’t think you can handle this rotting anymore. You refuse to believe this fate is by design, not when you feel like this. With tears you didn’t even notice dried up on your cheeks, you make a decision. There is nothing else you can do here, and this will be your last night in the city. So, you do something you have not done in years, you pull your backpack that’s been collecting dust and throw in as much clothes as you can.

You feel you’ve been cruel to yourself for allowing this to happen for years. The next day, you don’t wake up at the usual time. You spend the night in, and you quit your job once they call. They don’t deserve you there.

As for your belongings, you decided to only keep what could fit in your backpack. Cleaning up the house, you realized that you bought a lot of things; mugs you bought on a whim just because they were pretty, dishes that you only used once to host a house welcoming party, clothes you forgot even existed. The selection process was much more difficult than any job interview. Useless items got sold as soon as you posted them online.

You let go of your apartment and jump on the first train out, leaving behind the bustles and the buildings of the city. Seoul is too much for an unemployed person like you.

The sound of the train pollutes your ears as you step in, the voice of the intercom telling passengers to let people out first before walking into the train. And as the train moves away, you watch the city grow smaller and smaller. You don’t bother looking back.

The little town you're heading to is unfamiliar, but the path before is even more so.

There’s a heartbeat.

two.

Nobody ever visits.

In the city, you learned early on that it was a dog eat dog world. Your kindness can only go so far until it becomes the perfect tool to take advantage of you. They liked to call it survival of the fittest, the Darwinian evolutionary theory. It’s something that’s taught early in high school, often forgotten the year after, yet it’s a theory you continue to use long after everyone else has moved on to other things in life. You’d always found it interesting how it flawlessly captured Seoul’s mechanism of natural selection—the one most adaptable to change is the one that survives.

Nobody knocks on your door to greet you there. Nobody wishes you well. For as long as you can remember, you’d always had to fight, always aboard a ship on rough waters that you’d almost forgotten how a quiet shore sounds like.

You suppose this is why there was no warning when a knock sounds on your door. You hadn’t expected anyone at your door.

The morning was spent carving out a new life for yourself in Angok, running away from the sounds of the city and exploring the place you’d soon call home. There aren’t many establishments here, most of them run by families who have been here far longer than you ever have. You take note of the small convenience store just where you live in case you were feeling too lazy to run to the farmer’s market just by the town center. Small things first, afraid to hear the bustle of buildings follow their way to where you are.

By 2 in the afternoon, you had retreated back to the small apartment you’d rented out. Outside, the wind was getting stronger, making the waves collide harshly with the shore. You think you’d have stayed out longer if the gust of wind hadn’t flapped your clothes around violently. Two in the afternoon, with nothing left to do, when the door knocks.

Knock, knock.

Your heart rate speeds up at the sound. Could the city have followed you all the way here?

With heavy feet, you fight against the voice in your head to greet whoever is at your door. By best case, they’d probably mistaken your quaint apartment for someone else’s.

You twist the doorknob carefully, door creaking when it opens and you’re met with the sight of someone with the most peaceful face and the most perfect set of teeth. His eyes are welcoming as he waves at you in greeting, hair messily swept back with a few strands falling on his forehead almost as if they were designed to be.

“Hi!” You squeak out, eyes nervously wandering back and forth between the man and what you could only assume was his parked truck just by the front of your apartment. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“Oh! My apologies. Is this not where (Name) lives?” Your heartbeat picks up its pace again, and your hand around the doorknob starts to feel a little clammy for the fear of his intentions.

“It is actually. Um, how do you know my name?” You try to mask the fear in your tone, but the man easily picks up on it. And if it wasn’t for the situation, you think you would’ve laughed when he comically takes long strides to back up a little bit. He looks silly with his widened eyes and parted lips.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve sounded really creepy. I’m Chan! I live just around here, and my mom just rented you this house? The previous owner ran away with all the furniture, so I brought some so it doesn’t feel so empty.”

Chan flashes you a bright smile, angling himself a little so his truck is in full view.

It solicits a sigh of relief out of you, gripping hand on the doorknob dropping as you feel a little safer. You’d been ready to shut the door. Almost defensive. Almost letting his words fall into mumbles.

“I apologize again. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone is soft, genuine even as he scratches the back of his head and bows a little. It’s a strange sight the man with the kind smile. Strange that it only occurs to you now how long you’d gone without seeing a smile so soft in a long time. After all your years in the city, you had almost forgotten the sight of genuineness being directed at you.

“It’s alright. I’m just… a little…” The words fall on your mouth. Frankly speaking, you don’t know how to explain your own behavior. Nervous? Afraid? Defensive? You don’t really know. You feel like a stranger in your own body.

Chan is quick to dismiss it when it seems that you don’t have the intention to finish your sentence. There is no pressure to come up with an excuse here. “Come in. The wind must’ve been harsh on you.”

Pulling the door back a little wider, you invite Chan into your empty apartment, and after asking you twice if it was okay, he finally obliges. As he makes his way inside, he takes the furniture he had brought with him—back and forth, and back and forth from the truck until everything was inside.

He doesn’t even let you lift a finger.

“Sit anywhere.” You make your way to your kitchen to grab him a glass of water, emptying the bottle you had just bought down to its last few drops. You try to take as long as you can in the kitchen in nerve of the small talk that was bound to happen when meeting strangers. Though, your walls start to look at you reproachfully, and you realize you’d been gone far too long to be called disrespectful.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” You hand him the glass, sitting adjacent to him. He simply shakes his head, thanking you instead as he takes the glass from you with both his hands, careful not to touch you in case it makes you uncomfortable.

“I hope this is enough.” Chan motions over towards the pieces of furniture he had brought with him—a couch, a few chairs, and a table for now. “I have some more, but it didn’t really fit in my truck.”

You allow yourself to smile at him, though your eyes fail to meet his for more than five seconds. You don’t know what to say, and something akin to an itch starts to eat at your brain the way a caterpillar does with leaves, one bite then another, pressuring you to say something to satiate the silence.

Chan saves your brain from being chewed away.

“I hope you don’t have a hard time settling in.” He finishes the water you’d offered him before he continues, “I live just 2 apartments away if you need anything. I’ll see you around?”

You nod your head, following him out of the door, and you can only hope you hadn’t scared him away already. You manage to meet his eyes one last time as you move to shut the door, polite smile on your face as he turns back one last time.

“Ah, before I forget… I noticed you had a lot of books with you. There’s a library just a few blocks away in case you were interested.”

“Oh. Thank you. I’ll be sure to check it out.” With one last bow, you gingerly close the door behind you as he finally drives off.

Chan. He feels comfortable despite only knowing him for a few minutes, almost like a caring older brother you never had. You hope to know him more.

As you turn back around, you look at your apartment a little more closely this time, inspecting how the pieces of furniture look, decorating what once was an empty space. It looks more like a home now. You should’ve thanked the man more, you fear you didn’t say it enough.

You brush the thought off and spend the rest of the day cleaning.

three.

It takes you almost a week to go to the library Chan had suggested.

You had promised yourself to finish the book you brought with you first, before committing to new stories and new horizons. Though, it proved difficult as you have always been the type to take more than you can bargain for—purchasing books after books only to leave them behind on a dusty shelf.

But, new places call for new habits, and you vowed to leave that inclination behind.

When you step outside, a wispy curtain of clouds cover the skies. It’s a lovely weather to be outside in, with the summer breeze floating about. Not too cold. Not too sticky.

The air in the city has always been tangled with some form of pollution. Dirty and suffocating. It’s nice to have a change in pace. Being kind to nature, you find, has you reaping the benefits of basking in its beauty. They don’t litter her land with buildings here.

On the way to the public library, you pass by the market where a multitude of people line up, selling more than you can name—fruits and vegetables, homegrown plants, fish, textiles of clothing, brooms, almost everything.

The old and young gather alike, children running around to help their parents, office workers taking a break from their job to buy street food from the vendors. It’s colorful and vibrant, almost fiesta-like that only the people of Angok can radiate.

“(Name)?” A familiar voice has you ripping your eyes from an array of freshly baked cookies, turning towards the origin of the sound to find Chan waving at you.

“Chan, hi!” You reply shyly, yet a little less reserved than when you had first met him.

He looks the way he did a few days ago when he showed up on your door, though more sweaty as he puts down the final box of fruits they had loaded up on his truck. He’s dressed in a loose tank top, you assume to be more efficient in his job, and the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead are more visible the closer he gets to where you’re standing.

Chan definitely stands out with his height, and the way he smiles so easily.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, hands wiping at the side of the shorts he’s wearing.

“I’m actually going to the library… the one you talked about. Though, I’m not quite sure I’m headed the right way?” You try to mask your embarrassment with a short laugh, and his eyes brighten at the way you had taken his suggestion.

His stature lights up in the same manner, clasping both his hands together and replying, “Ah, if you can wait a minute, I can walk you there. I have to deliver a box of oranges there, anyway.”

“Really? I’d really appreciate that actually. Thank you.” You smile politely, and he gestures for you to follow him back to his truck where a man is waiting for him.

The stranger is carrying way more than he should be, about to jokingly boast about his strength to Chan when he takes an abrupt step. An earthquake rumbles in the way a box falls from his shoulders, hitting the pavement and bursting open—almost in slow motion as apples and oranges roll out.

“Shit!” He exclaims with his whole chest, and he immediately bows in apology at the elders around him who look disapprovingly at his choice of language.

“Ah, Jisung.” Chan mumbles, jogging forward to grab the fallen fruits that are still rolling on the pavement. A few onlookers help, much to the embarrassed boy’s dismay, and you quickly bend down to grab at the ones nearest to you.

“Sorry.” His tone is abashed, loading fruits back in the box and setting it aside. Chan simply pats him on the back in fondness.

“Wait, who’s this?” It’s only now he notices you, standing behind Chan with a few fruits in your arms which you hand to him. “Wait, wait, wait. I know, wait give a second.” He continues.

You can hear a faint chuckle from Chan.

“You’re (Name)! Right? You recently moved here?” The sheepish grin on his face is quickly replaced with a look of interest tangled with excitement, forgetting about his ordeal with the fruits in favor of greeting you.

You wonder if news travels as fast as his expression changes in this little town.

“Woah, easy Ji. You’re gonna scare her.” Jisung takes a step back, suddenly aware of how much personal space he’s taking away from you.

“I’m Jisung, Chan’s super handsome and cool friend.” His enthusiasm makes up for his clumsiness, waving at you before suddenly grabbing a plastic container from a big blue cellophane sitting by the side of the box he had dropped. “Here, my mom’s taking up an interest in baking lately. She’s not very good, but please have it as a welcoming gift from me.”

You take the container from his hands, bowing in thanks before meeting his crinkled eyes. Does this boy ever stop smiling?

“Thank you, really. I’d introduce myself but, it seems… you already know my name.”

His unwavering kindness takes you by surprise, just like everyone else in this village. And you’re about to thank him again when he excuses himself to help who you assume to be his mother, who is grumpily carrying a new batch of her baked concoctions.

“So, the library?” And then it’s Chan’s smile again. This time, he has with him a small box of the oranges he told you he’d deliver. You snap out of your far-away look to follow him through the streets.

It’s a short walk, brisker than you thought, and Chan sets the box down on a wooden table just outside of the public library where a young man waits for him—impatience clear on his face.

“Finally. Took you long enough, old man.” The boy opens the box, grabbing an orange from the pile and inspecting it before letting out a satisfied hum when it seems to have met his criterion.

“What do you even need all these oranges for, anyway?” Chan inquires, looking down at the crouched figure of the boy.

“Oranges have vitamin C, which plays a major role in preventing age-related mental decline.” He states matter-of-factly, standing up from his previous position. “Something you can’t relate to, obviously.”

The older boy doesn’t take anything to heart. Instead, you find the same fondness on his face, the one he wore when Jisung had dropped that box earlier.

“Well, I’ll get going then. Will you be okay here?” Chan looks back at you, a huge question mark of an expression decorating his features to ask if it was alright for him to get back now and leave you there.

The younger boy is long gone now, having retreated back into the library with his oranges.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course, sorry. Thank you again.” You smile, and he continues to wave goodbye until he’s no more than a distant figure.

The building is three stories tall, and you have to walk a flight of stairs to get to the library on the second floor. But it’s quiet, and you liked the change of pace from the vibrancy outside to the sudden tranquility inside.

It provides a safe barrier for when you want to be alone with your thoughts, something you never had in the city.

The inside of the library is cold, but the sun reflects through the panels of the windows just right so that it isn’t freezing. It’s as inviting as it is outside, and you’d go as far as saying the friendliness of the library was similar to that of Chan’s warm welcome for you. It isn’t the biggest room, and its run-down nature was particularly striking, but it isn’t something you mind. The cheap furniture and the slight discoloration of wood gave the place a character of its own—like this library has stood for generations and has protected centuries worth of knowledge from the books it holds.

It reminds you of a scene from Avatar the Last Airbender, when they find a lost library with all the knowledge in the world. And the boy with the obsession for oranges can be Wan Shi Tong, the giant owl spirit who’s tasked with collecting information and protecting the Spirit Library.

The door sounds and the floor beneath you creaks as you walk through the room. Though, it isn’t loud enough to catch the attention of the boy you had seen earlier, or as you liked to call him, Wan Shi Tong. He simply calls out an obligatory “welcome”, before going back to the book he’s reading.

The closer you got to the shelves, the more it smelt of books. It’s a nice addition to the ambiance, the scent of pages roaming around and escaping past the ventilation.

You go through the bookshelves, hand moving along their spines. So many books and every single one you wanted to read, even those in foreign languages.

You like this place, you decide. It’s filled with a quiet that allows breathing space, not simply an absence of noise, but a comforting stillness that isn’t easy to replicate. You might come here more often, make it part of a new routine you’re crafting for yourself.

Back in Seoul, you woke up at 6am like clockwork. You shower, eat when you can, go to work, overtime, and go home. Repeat. It’s to the point of exhaustion that the first time you slept in felt like your body was catching up on all the rest it’s been denied, and now it’s being given a space to breathe.

Reaching the end of the shelves, you’re subjected to the sight of broad shoulders and long black hair, standing still as the figure moves to return some books into their slots. They must work here. Should you inquire about how to make a library card? They already seem way friendlier than Wan Shi Tong.

“Excuse me miss?” They give no sign of having heard you. “Miss?”

When he turns around, you’re thinking of all possible ways to move out at this very instant. The boy, whom you had mistaken for a woman, looks at you with slightly widened eyes as if not having expected you to have spoken to him. While that isn’t reason enough to warrant your sudden thoughts of running away, his beauty surely is.

He’s hypnotizing, a beauty that Aphrodite must’ve blessed upon him, the kind that leaves a lasting impression. You’ll meet him once and never forget about him. His hair falls perfectly just above his shoulders, and a mole sits on his face like it was always designed to be there.

You’re embarrassed—if calling him miss wasn’t enough, you’re unsure if the staring did anything to help. Without another glance, you bow and mutter a quick apology before turning to walk away from where he’s stood.

“I’m sorry.” You say, for extra measure even when your back’s already turned from him.

Wan Shi Tong it is.

“Hello.” You speak quietly, and the boy once again looks up from his book. He looks like he’s studying for something.

“How can I help you?” He doesn’t have that false customer service voice, the one that’s overused and far from genuine. Instead, he speaks to you with a sort of passive tone—but it’s not too much that it sounds condescending.

“How do I make a library card here?”

He puts down his pen. “You need an address in Angok for that.”

“Ah, I do have one.” You smile, a little shy, yet relieved that your sudden intrusion of their village hasn’t spread to the entirety of the population yet.

“Did you move here?” He inquires, to which you nod your head in response. “Hm, alright. Hyunjin will help you make one. I’m Seungmin, by the way.”

“(Name).” You introduce yourself back, thanking him for his help as you turn around to only be greeted by Aphrodite’s son, though, you suppose you now know him as Hyunjin.

You can do this.

Hyunjin quickly makes his way behind the desk on the seat next to Seungmin’s so he can hand you a piece of paper you assume you have to fill out for the library card. Though, he still doesn’t say a word. He only points at the parts you need to fill in before going back to another one of his tasks behind the computer screen.

It’s hard not to look at him, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t feel anything when he looked back at you. Though, the feeling is overpowered by the embarrassment of possibly causing him any form of discomfort. You don’t want it to eat away at you until you’re avoiding the library.

You don’t want to avoid the library.

“By the way…” You start suddenly, keeping your voice down. “I’m sorry again for… earlier.”

Silence greets you, as he panics to grab the tiny camera for your library card. “And thank you for helping me right now.”

You seem to only be digging deeper and deeper into your own grave when he still doesn’t respond to you, simply stares as he bows his head slightly to acknowledge you. And it seems that awkwardness spreads like a virus when Seungmin’s head peeks from his book to witness the funny exchange before him. He looks like he’s trying his best to not laugh at whatever the hell is happening.

Then a shutter sounds as you’re filling up your paperwork, unaware he’d already taken your picture. You can only let out a nervous laugh to try and mask the silence that suddenly feels a little suffocating under the prying eyes of Seungmin.

“Here you go.” You hand over the piece of paper, and Hyunjin gives you a printed out library card in return. “Thank you.”

You suppose you can come back the next day to actually start reading. Meeting four new people and embarrassing yourself on top of everything is a little taxing, and you know the weather outside and the pretty cherry blossom trees will help put your mind away enough that you’ll feel better by tomorrow.

The bell rings as you leave, just as it did when you entered and you find yourself smiling at the breeze and the possibility of new friendships.

You told yourself to live a life you won’t regret.

You can do it.

There is excitement when you think of what will happen from now on. Time is all you have now.

As you walk outside, you map out where Chan had led you earlier to make it back to your rented home. If you were gonna come to the library on most days, you might as well have the path memorized until you can guide yourself there blindfolded.

You feel something fluffy just by your legs before you see it, eyes too focused ahead to only now realize you’re being followed by a long-haired Chihuahua. A chuckle escapes your mouth as you bend down to greet the dog. “Hello there, who are you?”

A bark follows, but not a threatening one.

“Come here.” He follows, little paws jumping up to rest on your bent knees with a wagging tail. Almost immediately, you coo at the sight, supplying him with all the head rubs he could possibly ask for.

“Where did you come from, hm? Why are you all alone?” The pitch of your voice is definitely higher, speaking to the dog with a tone similar to one you’d use when talking to a baby. “So cute.”

“I’ll get going now, okay? Go back home too!”

Four padded steps continue to follow you, and the culprit is exactly who you think it is.

“You can’t follow me around. You have to stay here!” Phony scolding, to try and get the dog to stop following you. You don’t want their owner to worry.

“Hey, stop following!” You laugh, starting to jog away from the chihuahua, but he refuses to listen. Instead, he starts running to keep up with you. “Stop it!”

Turns out, it’s hard to convince a dog to stop following you. Especially when he’s made his way into your own home, walking with you for the entirety of your path. The little dog doesn’t have a tag, no owner to contact, and it’s nearing night that you don’t feel safe letting him sleep outside in the inky dark. So, you invite the dog inside who walks around like he owns the place.

You sigh, though never one of indignation, as you sit down on the couch Chan had lended you, and the chihuahua quickly follows to lay himself on your lap. Curled up. Safe.

“What should I call you? Hm? You’re pretty stubborn.” You look down at the dog who’s looking back at you as if having understood anything that you’re saying. “Berry? No?”

It takes you a couple more tries before deciding on Kkami—when the chihuahua’s tail starts wagging aggressively and he attempts to lick your face at the mention.

“Okay, Kkami then. You like that? Hm?”

Your night routine doesn’t change much, there’s just an addition of a curled up Kkami sleeping beside you on your bed. But, you find that you don’t mind it one bit. It’s less lonely like this, and it’s nice to have some company.

four.

You return to the library’s stillness the next day after finishing up some chores—the laundry, the cleaning, everything. Washing your clothes was something unfamiliar to you, as you’d always just sent them to the laundry services near the place you stayed at. There was never time to do them yourself.

It’s a totally new experience when all you have is time now. You keep burning the food you make, but eat it the same. And hanging up your wet clothes outside took forever, but you manage. You just have to remind yourself there’s a book waiting for you in the public library.

The walk to the library is easier now, but the commotion you’d caused yesterday still echoes in your head. It engraves itself even as you make it to the door, hand hovering over the handle. But, there’s no point in delaying. You’ll be here most days so it’s best not to avoid anyone. So, without another thought, you open the door and step into the quiet of the library.

The bell rings as it always does.

“Welcome,” is what Seungmin says, just as he did yesterday. You greet him back, smiling politely as you make your way to the shelves. The room is almost empty. There’s only one other person in the library, a book with black hair on his own table, and he seems to be in his own world.

Hyunjin is also seated at a table, books and paper plastered on the wooden surface as he repairs torn pages. An uninterrupted routine he’s probably grown accustomed to.

“Hello.” You decide to greet the boy as you pass by the table he’s occupying. His hair is swept back today, and it looked like it smelt good.

His eyes light up when he sees you.

“You’re hello again.” He tilts his body so he can look at you, bowing a little. Though, his words come out croaked, and you’re unsure if you heard him right.

“Sorry?” Hyunjin doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, his face grimaces at how he had failed to utter the phrase he had practiced—hello, you’re here again.

But it isn’t his choice of words that surprises you, it’s that he spoke to you at all. His tone is soft, and completely unexpected after the silence you had received the day before. It’s the first words he ever tells you, and you find yourself smiling at the small progress.

A voice in your head tells you that you want to know him more.

So, after a few days of fleeting eye contact and small smiles from afar, you decide to come back to the library.

The afternoon air outside is beautiful, as it always has been when you walk outside, and there’s a mental checklist you go through in your head. Forgetting is so easy, so you try not to.

Buying Kkami dog food was first on the list of things you have to do on your way home from the library. The little chihuahua doesn’t seem to mind being left behind. In fact, Kkami loved his little space on the couch. Though, you still promise to be back as soon as possible, wanting to walk him outside while the sun is still up.

Hyunjin is seated at the same table as he did when he first talked to you, books and pages neatly plastered again when you walk into the library.

Today, you’ll try your second attempt at talking to him.

“Do you… repair all the books yourself?” You ask, looking down at the multitude of pages he’s tending to and the stack of books waiting to be repaired in a trolley parked at the side of his table.

“Yes.” He smiles upon answering, and it’s one that radiates pride in the work he does.

Your lips quaver slightly, trying to find words to say to him. You wonder if it’d be okay with him if you wanted to help out. The work looks interesting, and a little soothing. Would that make him uncomfortable?

Fiddling with the ends of your shirt, you stab your hesitance straight in the chest. “Can I try too?”

His mouth falls agape, and then he’s nodding his head, gesturing for you to take the seat adjacent to him. Hyunjin grabs an extra spatula, passing it to you before smiling shyly down at the books and pages.

“You take the spatula, and spread the glue evenly.” Hyunjin looks up at you before grabbing a page and his own spatula so you can mimic his gestures. “Then, you place the page at its original location.”

He closes up the book he’s working on, patting down at the spine so the glue sticks well. “That’s it.”

“Oh.” You look at his work with fascination, smiling as he sets the book aside. “You’re kind of like a doctor. It’s like you’re applying medicine to the books.”

He grins at your words, eyes averting from your eye contact as he shyly grins. You know he has pure love for what he does, and it warms your heart. It’s a sentiment you wish you had for your job back then.

“I think…” You fix your gaze to your hands that are propped on the table, intertwining your fingers together. “I’m in love.”

Hyunjin’s inability to look you in the eyes seems to falter the moment you speak. His mouth falls back into an ‘o’, and the tip of his ears are awfully red.

“Wait, sorry. What I mean is… I think I’m in love with the process of fixing up old things.” With slightly widened eyes, you gesture at the book he had just fixed cartoonishly, chewing on your lips a little embarrassedly.

The boy in front of you nods, fingers pausing over his task; you turn to look at him, and you’re relieved to see his smile returning.

“I see.” He chuckles, grabbing onto the pages that still need to be glued and grouping them together, tapping them lightly on the table so they align.

“Let me help you.” You reach out to the remaining pages, and Hyunjin looks at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but you know has no ill-intent. He always looks this way. Always natural, never forced.

As you quietly work on the task, Hyunjin can’t stop himself from looking at you from time to time. He thinks it’s to monitor your work, but does that excuse the way he stares at the small smile tugging on your lips?

“Has anyone told you how you resemble Aphrodite?”

“Me?” He asks, eyes darting you and the book he’s working on. You grin at him, nodding your head.

“Yes. Goddess of Beauty in Greek Mythology. You know her, right?”

“I do.” He smiles back easily, willing the blush that’s obviously creeping on his cheeks away.

“When I first met you, that character came to mind.” You mumble as you stare at the page in your hands, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to match it to its proper book. You pause, catching yourself before you can misplace the page, and Hyunjin looks up at the sudden silence.

“Which one was this again?” Sheepish. You think you’ve embarrassed yourself more times than not in this library.

You don’t notice Hyunjin leaving his seat, sauntering over to where you’re seated so he can peer at the page and at the books in front of you. “May I?”

His tone is kind, and it didn’t seem as if he were upset that you didn’t know where to put the page. On the contrary, he made you feel as if it was okay that you didn’t know. Quick to reassure.

“I don’t memorize all of these either. I only remember the names and places in the books, and I like drawing to keep an image of them in my head too.” He’s arranging the pages now, putting the corresponding paper atop the book they belong to. “Why don’t you try this one?” The way he says it is so full of expectation, leaning down to hand you a page and you can only smile up at him.

“I’ll give it a try.” You sputter out for words to say, taking the page from him gratefully.

Seungmin watches from a distance, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity as he observes his usually quiet friend speak more words than usual. Though, the observation makes his heartstrings contract.

It goes on like this for a while, silence engulfing the pair of you as you work to repair the books together. Hyunjin showed no signs of you being a bother to him, even reaching out to help most of the time—appreciative of your time. No sound follows, just the beating of your hearts and the rustling of paper.

Until a loud bang rumbles in the sky, interrupting the four of you in the room (even the freckled boy at the corner table who is at the library again today).

Your reaction is instantaneous, jumping back in surprise at the sudden interruption of silence, but a smile replaces the initial shock when you see the gentle pitter patter of rain from the windows.

Hyunjin slips himself out of his seat, rushing to close them so the books don’t get wet as Seungmin goes to help, all while you stare at the drizzle.

You’re reminded of the last day you stepped foot in the city.

“Oh!” You suddenly exclaim when the sound of the rain increases in volume. The burst of rain as the sky splits open reminds you of your laundry and how the initial heat they absorbed must’ve been washed off by the rain.

“I have to go.” You quickly excuse yourself from the boy who has just returned from closing the windows, smiling for the last time before rushing down the stairs to start heading home. Though, you falter in your step. You don’t have an umbrella with you. Should you just make a run for it? You think the jacket you’re wearing can help at least a little bit.

You sigh, about to step into the rain when a hand reaches for your shoulder. Warm and gentle, almost feather-like even. You spin around, only to be met with Hyunjin’s goddess-like features.

“Hyunjin?”

He clears his throat, pulling out his umbrella before handing it to you. “Use this. You’ll get sick.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I can just use my jacket!” Hyunjin doesn’t seem to budge at your rejection, simply smiling as he places the umbrella in your grasp.

“I think an umbrella will do a better job than your jacket.” You laugh a little, not knowing he was capable of teasing. It was cute. He was cute.

“Thank you! I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.” You don’t know why your heart is thumping so fast at the small gesture, but you reason it’s because you’re worried about your laundry. Though, a voice in your head is telling you that’s not quite the answer.

He disappears back into the library, and you shield yourself with his umbrella as you sprint back home to tend to your now wet clothes. The rain smelt acidic as you put away your clothes, setting them aside as the sun seems still so far away in the distance. You’ll hang them back outside when the heat returns.

“Did the thunder scare you?” You pick up Kkami in your arms, cradling him as you try to shield him away from the sudden loudness of thunder and lightning. “I’m sorry I couldn’t walk you out in the sun today.”

The rain is louder in your house, and it’s only when your own stomach grumbles do you remember you were supposed to buy Kkami dog food on your way back home.

Forgetting is so easy.

“I’ll go buy you some food, okay? You must be starving.” You rub the back of his ears, setting him down on the couch before grabbing the umbrella Hyunjin had lent you once again. Though, thankfully, the downpour stops just as quickly as it had started. You’re already inside the family-run convenience store near you when the sky clears out and the sun starts to peek behind the clouds again.

“What can I get you?” You turn to find a shorter man emerge from the back of the store, warm smile etched on his face as he pads his way to where you’re standing.

“I hope the rain wasn’t too hard on you.” He continues. His tone is kind as he waits for you to reply.

“Ah, it was okay.” Though initially caught off guard at the sudden presence, you return the smile gently. “I was wondering if you had any dog food?”

“We do!” He heads to a corner, and the way he grabs the bag of dog food punctuates his arms that you can only now see how big they are. His jawline is sharp too, noticing it the moment he turns that his side profile is visible to you.

He leans down to scoop up the bag in his arms, before heading back to you. “You’re the one who recently moved here, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You hand him your payment before taking the bag in your arms, hugging it so the weight isn’t as heavy.

“Chan mentioned. I’m Changbin.” Changbin takes your payment, returning to you the change. “I hope we can be good friends.”

“(Name). It’s nice to meet you. I’ll… get going now!” You motion at the dog food in your hands, to tell him you still had a pup to feed at home before waving goodbye as you hurry back to your house.

There’s almost no rain now, the only sign that it had even drizzled was the acidic smell, the puddles that had formed on the concrete overtime, and the gentle trickle of water from one leaf onto the next.

Kkami is waiting for you at home. No one used to wait for you before.

five.

You come back to the library the next day, just like you said you would. This time, Kkami walks with you to make up for not being able to take him out under the sun yesterday. Though, you don’t expect the handwritten “temporarily closed” sign to be the first thing that greets you as you head for the door.

You place Hyunjin’s umbrella just by the handle, almost in an awkward manner as you continue to peer at the piece of paper taped on the door.

“They both went to Seoul for Seungmin’s test.” A voice behind you averts your attention to the same freckled boy from yesterday.

“Ohh…” You respond, nodding your head in understanding as you walk over to where he’s seated just outside the public library. “I was just gonna return Hyunjin’s umbrella.”

Felix seems surprised, but it only triggers his smile to grow wider than it already is.

“I’m Felix.” You blink slowly, shaking his hand when he stretches it out for you to take. When your hand meets his, he pulls you down to sit next to him. “And who’s this little boy?”

“This is Kkami.”

Felix is a nice guy, pulling Kkami up to cradle him in his arms. The first thing that catches your attention is his freckles—like constellations in the night, littering his face like stars do the sky. You love the stars, though, you don’t see much of them in the city because of the polluted air and the abundance of lights from the buildings that line up.

The boy resembles the very comfort you find in the cluster of stars, a calming quality in him as he smiles down at your dog.

But, just as much as he resembles the stars, he smiles like the sun. Perhaps it's the way his eyes form crescents and the way his lips curve that trigger the sight of the sun. But he’s blinding in the most calming way possible.

“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” He asks, shots of espresso in the way he speaks. Deep and reverberating. How fitting the way his voice wakes you up like the sun.

“I think I’m just gonna walk Kkami around.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you a bit?” Felix puts your dog down, tilting his head to look at you that radiates so much friendliness. “I don’t really know what to do with the library closed.”

He offers like he’s already your friend.

You knew it was an exaggeration to call him a friend right away, but for you it was just that. Especially when he walks by your side, laughing and talking to you as if he’d known you forever.

“You know, it’s nice to hear Hyunjin talk more.” His lips curl into a lovely smile as he continues to accompany you and Kkami in your walk.

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyes trailing down to Kkami who’s padding ahead of the two of you.

“He doesn’t do too well with strangers, doesn’t even talk a lot with me. I think he’s only ever truly warmed up to Seungmin, so it’s nice to just hear him more.”

You blink in surprise at his words before lifting your hand to where it was staring at Kkami in favor of looking at Felix instead.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say or how to respond to the sudden revelation he’s laying down on you, and he throws his head back in laughter at your speechlessness.

“Don’t worry, I just felt the need to tell you. You don’t have to say anything.”

It goes on like this more—Felix initiating conversation and talking about almost everything until he has to go home. You end your walk with an exchange of numbers and a promise of ice cream the next time you come to the library together.

When you get home, it’s already 6pm. Kkami falls asleep almost right away, and you’re left to do the little chores you have left for the day. You wonder what you’ll have for dinner.

You’re in the middle of preparing a meal when your phone buzzes where you left it.

Ring, ring.

Your brother never calls anymore. So when you receive a call, you weren’t expecting to find his caller ID on the screen. You thought it was gonna be Felix who forgot to tell you something.

“Hello?” You’re the one who speaks first.

You're a ball of nerves wondering why he’s calling you right now.

“Hey (Name). Are you doing okay?”

“Hey, is something wrong?”

“Hm? Can’t an older brother call his sister to check on her?” There’s a scuffle in the background of his end.

“You never call.” You say quietly, picking at the ends of your shirt as you stare at nothing in particular.

“Oh, hah. Well, the thing is… can you lend us some money? You can sell the ring mom gave you. Itt’s just… our son, all his friends are studying abroad every vacation, but he never went.”

Your brother sounds shameless in his request, as if your mother hadn’t given him everything when she passed. All you have left of her are pictures in your head and the ring she had gifted you. You’ve never worn it, but you kept her going-away present. It’s the only thing you have left of her, and it hurts that your brother even thought of selling it just so his son could go on a trip abroad.

This ring meant something to you. Something more than a trip to him.

“Is this your wife’s idea? Does she want me to sell the ring mom gave me?”

“That’s not it.” He sighs exasperatedly, and you know he’s running a hand down his face at how this conversation is going. “Don’t you feel bad that your nephew is losing confidence because he’s never been abroad before?”

“Hey…” A lump forms in your throat, the familiar hands of pain wrapping around your neck to strangle you into tears. “Do you even… know how I’m living right now?”

Your voice cracks, choking on your own words to know that your brother only calls when he needs something. He doesn’t care. He never has. A sob is brewing in your throat.

“I do! But…” He’s getting defensive now, voice raising so he can try to get his non-existent point across. “My family is short on money right now.”

Family. The word is unfamiliar. It left you the moment your mother passed, replacing itself with loneliness. With emptiness. The unfamiliarity makes your face scrunch in the way it does before a hideous sob leaves your mouth, but you will yourself to get yourself together. Just for another minute, while you’re still on the call with him.

“Am I not family?” You mumble almost incoherently.

You don’t think you can handle talking to him any longer, not when he treats you like a bank account he can solicit money from anytime. Not when the first call you receive from him in years is that of asking you to sell your mother’s ring, not even to ask if you were alright, how you were doing.

The strangers in Angok treat you far better than your own brother.

You hang up before he can say anything else.

He has already caused you unbearable pain, and the reminder of how alone you’ve been. You want the pain to go away, you’ve worked too hard only to let it come back in full force. And there is only one way you know that can take it all away, even just temporarily.

It’s how you find yourself at Minho’s small restaurant, two bottles of Soju empty, and a disoriented haze of the place around you.

Minho doesn’t make it a habit to stick his nose in anyone’s business, but when your wobbly legs attempt to grab a third bottle of Soju, he’s hurrying by your table to stop you. “I’ve just made up a non-existent rule that you can only have two bottles.”

He takes it away from you, and you immediately pout when he does, a whine brewing in your throat. You try to imitate the way Puss in Boots looks, when he widens his eyes to get what he wants, but to Minho—you just look absolutely ridiculous.

“I’ve never heard of that rule before.” You mumble dejectedly, staring at the Soju bottle that Minho’s whisking away and putting back.

“It exists now because you’re piss drunk, and I don’t know how you’ll be getting home.” He says, tone softer than it was when you had first walked in ordering your first bottle, as if not wanting to startle you.

“I’m not drunk!” You blink rapidly, abruptly getting up to which Minho sits you back down so you don’t topple over your own clumsy feet. He mumbles something about getting you water.

“Everything just looks funny right now.” Your words come out in a slur as you look at your surroundings with a curious eye. “But I’m not drunk.”

When he returns, you have your head rested on the table, cheek mushed against the surface as your eyes droop a little in sleepiness. Though, there’s an addition of someone new in his shop. Hyunjin looks at you confused, before he fixes his gaze on Minho as if asking him why you were moping around at one of his tables.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t even know who this is.” Minho says in mock surrender, though, it doesn’t take long before his features mimic that of a Cheshire Cat. “You’ll take her home safely, right?”

Minho quickly ushers the pair of you out, waking you up and pushing you in the direction of Hyunjin who holds out his arms in case your feet decide not to cooperate with you. He needs to close his shop.

“Are you okay?” His arms are still hovering around you, not quite touching you, but prepared to if you ever fall forward.

“Hyunjin? How did you come to find me from so far away?” Your eyebrows furrow together as you stare at the boy beside you, as if there was no way he was real and with you right now.

“I’ll walk you home, okay?”

“I’m a bit drunk. I’m a little bit drunk right now.” You mumble, head still hazy as your eyes blink blearily, feeling the need to inform him. Your legs feel extra wobbly.

“Right. Are you okay?” He pulls you back to his side when you stumble a little too far away, soft tone never changing. He looks at your puffy eyes in curiosity, frowning as he thinks of all the possibilities as to why you had been crying.

“Goodness.” You exclaim in your half-conscious state when you almost trip on something, immediately reaching to what’s nearest to you—Hyunjin’s arm.

“Hyunjinnieee…” You start to sway where you’re walking, clearing your throat as Hyunjin is left predicting what your next move is going to be (on top of wondering why your eyes are red and stingy).

Though, he most definitely doesn’t expect you to start singing.

“Why do you appear before my eyes whenever I’m drunk?” It’s loud, uncharacteristic of the you he’s met, and your arms are flailing around as if to act like a conductor in your own orchestra of sounds.

“You’re going home now, okay?” Your smile is loopy as you nod at his words, continuing to sing the same one line over and over again while skipping in your step.

Hyunjin is attentive to where you’re walking, scooping up a potted plant and setting it aside when you’re about to walk into it. “Careful.”

You tell him all sorts of stories as you head home—how you fell in love with the library, how you never thought you’d own a dog, how you’re glad you’re far away from the city.

He listens. To every single one of your stories, all while making sure you get home safely. He looks both sides before crossing the street, hand outstretched to an incoming car to slow it down as you carelessly walk across without so much as a glance.

“Hyunjin.” You suddenly stop in your tracks.

“Hm?” Hyunjin ushers you to keep moving, hand hovering on the small of your back as you start giggling in your dazed state.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay if I ask right now?”

“Sure.” He replies, arms dropping back to his sides.

“Do you think you can like me? I don’t think anyone likes me.”

A silence settles between the two of you right after you get the question out. Hyunjin pauses in his actions, staring at you as you keep marching forward to where you live.

He allows himself to ponder over your sudden question. He couldn’t quite explain how he felt about you, but he knows it’s good. He has surprised himself time and time again for willingly continuing conversation with a stranger, but Seungmin has stressed it was good for him.

You emit a type of radiance, one of comfort. Maybe it was the way you smile at him, so softly when people look at him strangely for not being able to speak to them right away. He has only spoken to you once, but he knows he wants to talk to you more.

He wants to get to know you more.

He gives you a fond smile as he catches up with you once more. Hyunjin doesn’t know the connotation behind your question, and he doesn’t know what premise his answer falls under either.

Still, he says, “I already do.”

“Oh, we’re here!” You yell out and immediately quiet down when you realize everyone around you must be asleep right now. “Sorry.” Now in a whisper as you look around sheepishly.

“Can you get in safely?” He questions, worry still eminent in the way he speaks, even as you nod your head to answer his question.

“Don’t worry about me. Bye bye!” When you slip into your home, you immediately fall face first on your mattress and fall asleep. Drinking can be so draining when the world around you spins.

You don’t think about the splitting headache waiting for you the next day.

six.

You're fucked.

This much is clear as you finally finish vomiting in your toilet, images from the night before flashing in your mind— the giggling, the stumbling, and poor Hyunjin. You can still hear his voice in your head, telling you to get in safely. You can still feel the way his hand hovered over your back to make sure you don’t fall over.

Well, shit. This is way beyond anything you’ve ever done, moving up to the number one spot of the list you liked to label ‘embarrassment’. Calling Hyunjin miss and forgetting which pages go to which book moves down a spot at the sudden entry of your drunk ass.

“Kkami, what do I do?” You groan, head falling back against the wall of your bathroom as you stare at the ceiling. Will a letter of apology suffice for the way he had to take you home last night despite his exhaustion of driving to the city?

“This is so embarrassing.” Kkami consoles you by curling up by your side, paw resting on your thigh before his whole head drops to lay atop your leg.

Hyunjin is so pretty too. He’s enchanting in the way he speaks, and the way his eyes sparkle naturally when he does the things he loves. He’s unstinting with his kindness too, never losing patience even as you took a long time to repair the books you had offered to help with. You don’t even know if you helped much, but he never made a move to stop you even as time passed and you were making little progress.

It’s easy to fall into your embarrassment, which is how you find yourself with a notebook in hand, thinking of how the hell you were going to apologize to him. You don’t think you have it in you to go up to him face-to-face and have to recall the events of the night.

You might as well write something.

“About what happened last night…” You look at your notebook with critical eyes, immediately scratching it out to think of a better way to start your note.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know how to say this.”

The second candidate is just as bad as the first one.

With your chin on the palm of your hands, you rack your brain for every possible way to say sorry. It’s not like apologizing was anything new to you, it’s even become a habit in your work life for the past few years. Always doing something wrong. Always apologizing. Even if it was never your fault to begin with. Though, this time, you want it to be genuine. You don’t want to imitate the phony way you’ve said sorry before.

Your eyes are glazed as you stare at the piece of paper.

Hyunjin has a routine fixed, so you make it a point to reach the library at noon when he’s busy pushing a trolley full of books to return them to where they belong on the bookshelves. He only hears the bell ring when you walk into the library, like you always do.

Peering over the shelves, he finds himself smiling to himself when you wander inside the library. He peels his gaze away for a few seconds to return a few books to their spots, though, apparently that’s also the time it takes for him to hear the bell ringing again, to indicate that you had left just as quickly as you had walked in.

Tilting his head, Hyunjin backs away from his work to check his desk where a small note sits.

“I’m sorry…” with a small drawing underneath.

It looks like the work of a child, but Hyunjin could tell instantly that it was a portrait of you and him from the night before. It prompts a smile on his face, eyes flicking from the note to the door. He keeps the piece of paper in his drawer to think about later.

Hyunjin has never had the courage to strike while the iron was hot, but he finds himself walking out the public library in hopes of catching you before you’ve left.

He finds you seated on the bench outside, eyes trained on the screen of your phone with your legs outstretched.

“Excuse me.”

You almost drop your phone when you hear him, immediately standing up to greet him. He looks good, as he always does. His complexion shines even prettier under the sun. The natural lighting highlights his hair in that it looks more dark brown than black. And his smile. It’s a little less shy now, and more open.

“Thank you for the note… and the drawing.”

He sounds like an angel too. You’ve always found his voice pretty, in a different way from Felix’s deep ocean voice. His was gentle, soft, and way nicer than you remember it being.

You try to think of the right words to say, sputtering over whether you should bring back what had happened last night or simply accept his thanks.

Taking a deep breath, you nod your head. “You’re welcome.”

Hyunjin has his hands clasped together in front of him as you speak, rocking himself back and forth on the heel and soles of his feet.

“You must’ve come in safely, then.” You laugh a little at what he says, and it only makes his smile brighter.

“Yeah. I’m sorry again.” It makes you cringe when you think of your behavior, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind at all when he puts his hand up as a motion for you to stop apologizing.

“Not at all. I’m just glad to know you’re okay.”

The statement has your cheeks warming up, staring at him and the bag of ice cream you had initially brought for you and Felix. He had texted you earlier saying he couldn’t make it, and promised that he’d be the one to buy the ice cream next time.

Ice cream can be a good peace offering.

Grabbing the bag, you lift it up and smile coyly at the boy. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Hyunjin’s eyes form into crescents at your offer, lips curling up into an easy smile as he makes his way to sit adjacent to you. It feels nice like this, sitting outside in the breeze with only the two of you as you hand him the ice cream flavor of his liking, the tree just behind you doing a great job at shielding you enough that the sun’s heat isn’t too hot, but is still there.

“You know, I prefer cone ice creams over popsicles.” You mention suddenly, looking down at your cone and peering at the popsicle he had chosen for himself. He hums at the information, eyes softening when you ask him the same thing, like his opinions matter to you. Like you want to get to know him too. “What about you?”

“I’m not a big…” He catches himself before he can continue. Hyunjin isn’t the biggest fan of ice cream, but he finds himself unable to reject your offer. It’s an opportunity to sit in this moment with you.

He’d eat ice cream over and over again if it meant being able to stay in this moment.

“Well, ice cream does taste good, but the apple flavor…” He finds that he has a hard time answering your question, pausing to ponder over his words. It has you giggling. He looks cute thinking his options over.

“You don’t have to answer me.”

“But this one is good.” He lifts the popsicle in his hand, taking a bite out of it to show that he was being truthful with his words.

You laugh this time.

“You know, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing when I first got here. But, I found myself falling in love with the library.” Hyunjin looks at you when you speak, unlike his previous inability to maintain eye contact with you.

“You’ve actually told me that already.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “I have? When?”

“Back then.” He’s gesturing something with his hands, and you continue to stare at him to try and decipher what he was acting out. Though, it’s pretty quick to figure out once he pretends to drink out of a shot glass, and your eyes widen at the realization of when he was referring to.

“Back then?” You repeat, and he chuckles at the way you roll your head back in embarrassment.

He hums in confirmation.

“What else did I say? When I… you know…” You trail off, looking at him for answers, but not quite wanting to repeat the words. He takes the hint well.

He laughs, before shaking his head. “It wasn’t so much talking, but rather singing.”

“I sang?” You stare at him dumbfounded as you try and recall what exactly happened. “I actually sang?” You laugh out loud this time, and you fail to notice the way his entire face lights up at the sound.

“What did I sing?” You look shocked and confused, yet there’s a smile of amusement on your features when Hyunjin actually starts singing the melody you had the night before.

“Why…” He clears his throat. “Why do you appear before my eyes whenever I’m drunk?”

“Wait, stop! Oh my god. Please stop.” You reach forward, resting a hand on the table and leaning forward to get him to stop singing.

“Can you please forget about that entire night?” You bring your hands together almost begging, and he can only laugh in amusement at the way you’re reacting.

“I don’t really think about it that often—“

“You even sang the song!” You interrupt.

“That’s because you asked.” He lifts a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck, bashfully smiling.

“This is so embarrassing.” You hang your head, a wince of an apology soliciting itself from your throat as you swing your feet back and forth to physically cringe at yourself.

Seungmin arrives at that very moment, his own complaints spilling out and drowning yours out. He pauses when he finds Hyunjin outside with you, squinting his eyes suspiciously before letting it go in favor of complaining once again.

“They’re so annoying! They think they’re so high and mighty.” He drops at the seat next to Hyunjin, and you offer him the only ice cream you have left in your bag. You have no idea what he’s talking about, but it seems Hyunjin knows all about it.

“They won’t do it?” Hyunjin asks, and Seungmin all but sighs as he starts peeling the wrapper off the ice cream.

“I mean, I guess it’s not easy to come down here to listen to old people talk.” Seungmin takes an annoyed bite, throwing his head back. “They might make me write the article, too. And I have to do it tomorrow. Can’t someone else do it?”

An idea forms in his head.

Hyunjin looks at you gingerly, and Seungmin visibly perks up when he follows the boy’s line of sight. You clear your throat, suddenly breaking eye contact and looking anywhere but the two boys.

“Will you please do it?” He grins wickedly, whole body tilted to face you as he reaches out to grab your attention.

“Well, you see…” You mumble. “I only proofread when I was working at a publishing company.” You point out sheepishly between each bite at your ice cream, doing your best to not look at Seungmin.

“The fact that you proofread means you’re familiar with writing.”

"Still…” You trail off with your words, not knowing how to defend yourself any further when Seungmin is clasping his hands and begging you to help them do the work. “I’m just not very confident.”

“(Name).” Hyunjin calls, and you look at him in hopes that he has a plan in mind to save you from Seungmin’s request.

“Why do you appear before my eyes…”

Your mouth drops at his words.

“What did you say?” Seungmin questions, and you look back at the boy to subtly shake your head, as if trying to get him to stop. Instead, he smiles a little mischievously.

“Whenever I’m…” You wince, immediately putting a hand up to stop him. Fortunately for Hyunjin, you’ve been begging him to forget about the night before, so you feel as though you owe him something.

With your head hung lightly and a look of defeat on your face, you finally agree to Seungmin’s request.

seven.

When you arrive, Hyunjin is already waiting for you with a camera slung around his neck. He looks so pretty with his hair falling messily over his shoulder. He’s wearing a white shirt and some jeans, though, what catches your eye the most is the huge knitted sweater he’s wearing.

“Hello, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”

You fail to notice his own reaction, too busy admiring his beauty to realize he’s doing the same. Opposite you, Hyunjin’s jaw-dropping reaction to what you’re wearing is staring at your face with a small smile playing on his lips. He’s fiddling with his camera now, eyes traveling from the clip you’re wearing on your hair to the cherry lip balm you’d applied just before leaving.

What colors was he using painting you in his head? Pastel hues with a tinge of vibrancy.

“Shall we go then?” Suddenly, he can’t look at you, eyes trained just behind you as he asks.

“Okay.”

It doesn’t feel like a far walk with Hyunjin next to you. In fact, it barely takes 15 minutes before you reach the house of the person you’re supposed to be interviewing.

The outside of her home is beautiful, and an older woman you don’t recognize greets you and helps you both inside. Her home is surrounded by a wide expanse of grass, the view of the sea beautiful from a distance. The house itself is built with wood, and the row of vegetable plants lining up behind the low-standing table outside provides a breath of fresh air.

“Good afternoon. We’re here for an interview.” You inform politely, and she nods her head as if finally remembering why she’s letting two strangers into her home.

“Sit down, sit down.” Her tone is welcoming as she urges you to sit down, allowing Hyunjin to set up the camera on the camera stand he brought with him. Never imposing as she asks if you need anything else.

“You’re dressed so nicely.” You smile, the full view of her garden behind her accentuating her features. You’re sure she was quite the heartbreaker when she was younger.

“Just relax, and imagine you’re having a chat with your daughter.”

The interview goes smoothly. You ask her of things big and small—her age, her family, her history with Angok, anything you can think of. Seungmin didn’t give you any specifics to ask, just that you would write about her life. In this way, you’d be getting to know her.

She speaks of her children and grandchildren with so much love, that it almost makes you envious that you don’t have a grandmother figure to lean on. You’re all you really have left.

When you look over at Hyunjin, he gives you a toothless grin, as if to assure you you’re doing a great job. It lasts around an hour, and you’re just about ready to go home when she stops you and Hyunjin from fixing up.

“Oh, goodness.” She doesn’t need to ask for Hyunjin to hurry his way to her, grabbing the huge platter of food she grabbed from inside her house, settling it where you had sat earlier.

“I had no idea it was time for food. You guys must be hungry. Come on, let’s eat.”

“Thank you for the food.” You both say, and she only smiles as she admires the young couple in front of her.

The food is cooked with care, having just the right amount of seasoning. There’s a variety of vegetables which you assume to have been freshly picked from the garden she has. Hyunjin seems to mirror your thoughts, immediately praising her for the food.

“The food is delicious.”

“Really?” She finds pleasure in the way you’re enjoying your food. Perhaps, she was trying to catch a glimpse of her children in the two of you.

“Are you two married?” You and Hyunjin pause from eating, staring at each other before looking back at the older woman.

“No, we’re not.” You answer for him, laughing a little at the accusation she had just made. “We’re not married.”

“Oh, too bad. You guys would make a great couple if you were to marry.” She says light-heartedly, staring directly at the boy who’s refusing to make any eye contact at the sudden topic change. Hyunjin nearly chokes on the lettuce he’s eating, coughing a little as he mutters a string of apologies. She only smiles knowingly, offering up some water to the poor boy.

He swallows down his food, putting on a cordial smile directed at the old woman.

The rest of the time plays out without any more questions as to what the relationship is between the two of you, which Hyunjin is more than grateful for. He’s afraid of tripping over his own feet when you’re mentioned as his girlfriend one more time, as if choking on his food wasn’t enough already.

At some point, while you’d been talking, the sun had started to set which prompts the older woman to send in a flurry of farewells as she ushers the pair of you to get home safely.

Looking at you now, while the orange hues of the sun falls on your face, Hyunjin concludes that he feels something for you, evident in the way his heart starts beating a little faster and his palms start to sweat when you’re around. The awkward atmosphere between the two of you is long gone, and he finds himself hearing the gentle undertone of your voice in his head before he falls asleep.

He’s even more floored after today, after having seen first hand how you treat people with so much kindness—even Seungmin, who’s the number one enemy on everyone’s list in this small village. He admires the way you smile at strangers, and your eloquence in conversations even with the little words you say.

It’s only been a while of knowing you, yet he finds himself thinking about you all the time. From the first day you met that muggy afternoon, to how you helped him with repairing the books, even that drunken night where you had sang for him, and the morning after when you shared ice cream with him. He finds himself repeating these moments with you over and over in his head, like sifted sand, until they’re properly engraved in his mind.

“You know… all I really did today was listen to her stories, but my heart feels at ease because of it.”

Hyunjin looks at you as you walk side by side each other, the sunset’s glow falling on everything around you.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

When the wind blows, leaves from the trees lined up near you float around you. From time to time, you’d hear the crunch of crushed leaves as you step on them. All the while, Hyunjin is walking close to you, watching you and listening to you.

“Thank you for working with me on this.” Hyunjin suddenly says, words softer than expected as he locks eyes with you. He wants you to know he’s genuine in his gratitude.

“I hope you’ll like my writing once you get to read it.” You smile nervously, keeping eye contact with him, and you don’t know how pivotal this moment is for the boy. How your kindness is pulling him deeper and deeper into you, everything about you—your sweet smile and your bright eyes.

“I will.”

Talking to you feels easy and natural.

“You will?” A small smile creeps onto your face at his response, and he nods his head in confirmation.

Silence passes.

“I hope we can keep working on this together.” Hyunjin surprises himself with how straightforward he can be with you, with how easy it is to tell you he wants to keep spending time with you.

“If you buy me dinner tomorrow, I’ll think about it.”

The whole world stops in this pocket of time. While everyone goes about their evening, Hyunjin is stuck on your words. Your eyes glisten with a certain type of glow no one can replicate, and he thinks he’ll always remember your face right now, smiling fondly at him, lit by the setting sun.

“Okay. Dinner tomorrow.”

Heat continuously rises to his face the more you look at him, but Hyunjin supposes he can blame it on the sun for now.

eight.

It is exactly 6:36 in the evening when you meet Hyunjin at the library to grab dinner with him.

When the bell rings, he can’t help the smile on his face when he realizes it’s you that’s walking into the library. He never used to smile this much before. But it can’t be helped, not when it’s you.

“Hello.” He’s the one who speaks first.

“Hi.” You reply, mimicking the smile on his face. His eyes are glossy when you meet them.

“Shall we go to dinner?” He lets out a small breath, hovering just in front of you.

Hyunjin looks like a bundle of nerves. You don’t know that, in his head, this feels akin to a first date. One he hasn’t gone on in a long time. So, on the outside, he’s perfectly composed, eyes dropping on the wooden ground. On the inside, however, he’s sweating and twisting and turning and screaming that he’s about to have dinner with you.

“What? Are you buying dinner?” Seungmin’s nosy ears perks up at the mention of dinner, immediately moving from his place behind the desk to join the two of you. “I was just starting to get hungry. Come on, let’s go.”

While Hyunjin wants to be upset at the sudden third wheeling of Kim Seungmin, he finds that he isn’t.

As funny as it sounds, he’s kind of grateful for the sudden interruption. He’s too afraid that if you were to have dinner together, alone, and his fried brain was convincing him it was a first date—his feelings would become too real. He knows he likes you, but he doesn’t want to act on it too soon. He doesn’t want to scare you off, doesn’t want to scare himself off.

Hyunjin has way too much of a feeble heart, that even walking beside you right now, with your hands slightly brushing against the other, he can already hear his heart beating in his ears.

He has always thought of himself as patient, so he doesn’t understand why there’s a growing irritation at the back of his head for the inability to hold your hand in his. It’s even more confusing as he knows he’s never been the type to crave for skinship, never eager for physical touch. So, what’s changed?

“Yah, Lee Minho!” Seungmin’s voice is loud as he walks into the restaurant, though, a much younger boy greets him.

“Innie, where’s Minho?” Jeongin gestures at the kitchen, immediately setting off to find the older boy at the request of Seungmin.

You hide behind Hyunjin the moment Minho appears from the kitchen. You’re sure the memories from that night are still fresh in his mind, and he’d been the first to witness your drunken, hazy state. When he sees you, his lips tug into a lazy smirk, but he chooses not to say anything.

“We went to interview that old lady yesterday.” Hyunjin feels the need to inform Seungmin who’s smiling, pleased with his ability to coerce you into helping them out.

Everyone finally settles down into their seats, Hyunjin cooking the meat silently as conversation starts. Jeongin joins you not long after, asking if it was alright. Your food sizzles behind the chatter around your table.

“What interview?” Jeongin asks.

“A writer didn’t show up, so (Name) did the interview instead.” Seungmin informs the table, and Jeongin nods in pretense of understanding the situation.

“How did you know how to do that? Where did you work in Seoul?” Minho’s the one to ask this time as he refills your meat, setting down a plate of raw pork just by Hyunjin’s arm.

“She worked at a publishing company.” Seungmin says with a mouth full of food.

“I see. Then you must’ve had a lot of boyfriends.”

You tilt your head at Jeongin’s sudden proposition, like he’s trying to fit two completely different puzzle pieces. There’s absolutely no correlation between working at a publishing company and having multiple boyfriends. It seems Seungmin is wondering the same thing, cogs turning in his brain at Jeongin’s stupid question.

“How are those two related?” He deadpans.

“I’ve always found well-read girls charming and attractive.” Jeongin simply shrugs, shoving down another piece of cut-up meat in his mouth before chewing. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

You fail to notice the way Hyunjin suddenly leans closer to the table, suddenly finding interest in the topic when he had been absent for most of the conversation.

“Oh, I used to have one. But we broke up.” You laugh a little nervously, quietly thanking Hyunjin who sets a few cooked pieces of pork on your plate so you don’t run out while eating.

“Why? How long did it last?”

Jeongin and Seungmin seem to have a lot of questions, and you can see Hyunjin sending them a side eye from your peripheral vision at their rather invasive question.

“Quite a long—“

Hyunjin concludes he doesn’t need to know anything about your ex-boyfriend. He smoothly interrupts the conversation by stuffing food in Seungmin’s mouth. “This is about to burn, you should eat it.”

He glares at the boy viciously, but even the scowl on Seungmin’s face couldn't crack Hyunjin’s persistence in cutting the conversation short. He doesn’t know if it's jealousy, never having felt it before, but he knows he doesn’t want the image of you kissing another boy imprinted in his mind.

Thankfully, Jeongin moves on to another topic, speaking about how he’s in the last year of college and how much he hates it. All the while, you and Hyunjin share small smiles from across the table.

You both let Jeongin and Seungmin carry the conversation. You were never good at keeping the flow of one going anyways. So, instead, you play the listening role. The one you’ve always been good at.

Throughout dinner, Hyunjin does little things for you. He refills your empty glass of water, he puts meat on your plate so you don’t run out, and he constantly checks up on you—to see whether you were overwhelmed with the loudness of the two boys.

He does so by looking at you with an endearing smile, light dimples on his cheeks as he chuckles when you smile back at him. It’s a quiet conversation between the two of you, even if it’s just communication between smiles. Hyunjin is like a breath of fresh air from the crackling volume surrounding you.

He offers to walk you home after the four of you finish up with dinner, telling you that he couldn’t allow himself to simply let you walk alone in the dark. You respond with the crinkling of your eyes and a soft ‘thank you’.

Being with Hyunjin, alone, is quite possibly the purest form of comfort you will ever know. He’s tender and gentle and attentive, like he knows what it’s like to have the peace you value being breached constantly. Though, lately, you find that the quiet you crave for isn’t necessarily complete silence. It’s the comfortable and uninterrupted calm you feel when you’re with Hyunjin—whether at the library or walking home together from dinner. When he’s with you, warmth always makes an appearance.

There is no demand to make conversation.

You let your gaze veer off to the sea and how the waves crash along the shore. There's a breeze softly wafting through your hair, and you smile at just being able to view the ocean anytime you want. A pleasure you’ve always been denied off back in the city.

As your simple house comes into view, your shoulders fall at knowing he would have to leave now. You stop in your tracks, biting at your lips, and Hyunjin waits for you to say something. Never demanding. Always patient.

“Do you wanna meet my dog?”

His mouth opens in response, before a toothless smile forms in his features. “I’d like that.”

Kkami’s wiggling body with his wagging tail is the first to greet you when you open the door. You crouch down, arms open so he can jump onto you just the way he likes. “I’m back. I’m sorry to keep you waiting all this time.”

“Come in, come in.” You urge Hyunjin to get in, resuming your standing position so you can close the door behind him. “You can keep your shoes on if you’d like.”

He refuses, immediately taking them off before crouching down to greet the long-haired Chihuahua. They get along right away, Kkami constantly tapping his paw on Hyunjin’s knees to get his attention.

“I’ll get you something to drink.” You disappear into the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before hurriedly returning.

His hand brushes against yours when he reaches to take the glass from you, and you hate how fumbly the simple gesture gets you. It makes you feel like you’re back in high school, helplessly crushing on the boy who’s way out of your league.

“I think he likes you more than me now.” You crouch back down, looking at the way Kkami nudges his head on the side of Hyunjin’s thigh.

“I think he’s just a friendly dog.” He reassures you, though, he can’t help but feel a little pride that your dog immediately warms up to him. He’s always wanted a dog too.

When Kkami starts to give his attention back to you, Hyunjin calls him back. “Come here. There’s food here, can’t you see?”

His false bribery has you laughing.

“Now you’re just lying to my dog.”

He’s unfazed, continuing to lie to your poor dog about the invisible food he has in hand. “I have food for you, come here.”

“Wow, my dog left me and chose you because of your fake food.” You pout when Kkami successfully sits himself on Hyunjin’s lap, barking in glee when the boy rubs the back of his ears.

He sets the empty glass on a table nearby, careful not to drop it with Kkami still on him, gaze falling on the ring around your finger when you take it so it’s safe in your kitchen sink.

“Your ring is really pretty.” His compliment is genuine, and you can’t help but smile as you look down at the metal band your mother had given you, the one you started wearing since your brother called.

“My mom gave it to me. It has the number 220 engraved on it, apparently for bravery.”

“Suits you very well then.”

“I was really afraid when I first moved here, you know. I had no idea what I was doing. I thought I’d fallen into defeat.”

You recall your uncertainty when you had left everything you’d ever known in the city, following the heartbeat in the town of Angok.

“Men are not created with defeat in mind. We may fall at times, but we’re never defeated.”

“That’s a good line.”

“I stole it from a book.” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Wanna know something cool?”

You nodded your head, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor in front of him.

“Your ring has the number 220, right? Well, back in college, I used to play sports. My jersey number was 284.” You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you listen anyway.

“They’re both amicable numbers. The sum of factors of 220 is 284, and the sum of the facts of 284 is 220.” He says with a smile, hands smoothing down your chihuahua’s fur. “These numbers are linked together by some fate, like your ring and my jersey.”

Hyunjin is a quiet surprise, sputtering about amicable numbers and mathematics to you. It’s almost endearing, how he had found something between the two of you and connected it to something he knows.

Your ring and his jersey. Amicable numbers.

There is so much to Hyunjin, so much you still don’t know and want to learn.

“That is pretty cool.” You think back about it in your head, how rare these numbers are, and how they found themselves to the both of you. Maybe knowing Hyunjin has always been written in the stars, and maybe you’ll know him in every lifetime after this one.

At the same time, Hyunjin is grinning to himself. He’d always thought love was far off, but it looks like it’s been in front of him this whole time, smiling back at him. He knows what he’s feeling, this overwhelming warmth, and he knows it’s real now more than ever.

In this moment, there is nothing else but you, him and Kkami and the knowledge that he’s falling in love with you. Right here, right now, all he sees are your eyes and your smile and the way your hands are brushing as you lean down to scratch Kkami’s ears.

Hyunjin feels like his heart is about to burst, and he has to clear his throat and put Kkami down in some poor excuse of needing to get home. He has to before he does something he might regret. The tides of the waves are pulling at him to make a move on you, and he’s afraid he might never make it to shore at the sheer overwhelmingness of his feelings for you. Could it be possible that you made a move instead?

“I think I have to get going now.” He whispers, and you nod your head, moving to stand up when he does. “Thanks for coming to meet Kkami. You should say goodbye to Hyunjin. Say thank you for visiting! Goodbye!”

You move Kkami’s paw to imitate waving.

“Goodbye!” His smile is wide as he bends down to wave back at your dog, taking small steps backwards until he’s by your door.

“I’ll write up a story about the lady we interviewed and send it to you.” You mention, fumbling with the knob to open it for him.

“Sure.” When you don’t make a move to say anything else, he turns his back to start walking away.

“By the way…” Hyunjin immediately turns back around, both hopeful and hesitant at what you have to say to him. His eyes hold yours, waiting for you to continue. “Are you free—“

“Good evening!” Chan’s booming voice interrupts what you were able to say. “Sorry it took me so long. I’m here to help you with the water leakage?”

You’d almost forgotten. You had called Chan earlier this morning to ask if he could help you fix up the issue with your sink.

“No, it’s okay. Hi, good evening.”

“Weren’t you about to say something?” He asks, and you suddenly feel too shy to ask if he wanted to hangout with you soon. The Little Mermaid live action was coming out soon, and you’d been excited to check it out. You thought, maybe it would be fun to watch it with him.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” An unidentifiable emotion flickers in Hyunjin’s features when you suddenly double back on what you were supposed to say—of dejection? You can’t say for sure, especially when a small smile returns to his face and he’s waving goodbye at you one last time.

“Chan, come in.” In your head, you’re still bruising yourself over cowardly backing down from asking Hyunjin to eat dinner with you tomorrow, hopefully with just you two this time.

Your water leakage problem doesn’t take too many steps, but it does need a few tools that only Chan has. When he finishes, you tell him to sit down a little, finding something to offer him for fixing up what had been broken under your sink.

“What’s going on between you and Hyunjin?” It catches you off guard, the unfiltered way he suddenly asks the question with obvious teasing dripping down his tone.

“Nothing.” You say too quickly, shaking your head.

“I was kidding. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Aren’t you gonna pry?” You’re not used to anyone not prying. Back in the city, you barely could keep anything a secret. Always forced. Always fidgety with the way they ask you questions, only to use that information against you later.

“No. As long as you’re happy, and both of you don’t get yourself hurt.”

His considerateness is breathtaking, and it almost has you tearing up the way he treats you better than your own brother. Chan doesn’t need to hug you for you to feel safe, he just has to smile and look at you with his eyes round of warmth.

He feels familiar, like… family. You think this is what family should feel like.

“Thank you, Chan.” You breathe, and he breathes with you. He reminds you he’s only one call away, and your heart feels like it’s being stripped until it’s bare.

This is family. Chan is family.

And Hyunjin quite possibly is love.

nine.

The epiphany you had posed to yourself the night before proved to be almost as difficult as the one you had when you had left the city. Inevitable, but that doesn’t mean it scared you less. Uncertainties often make you feel vulnerable, and what is love but a thread of uncertainties waiting to be untangled?

You can’t focus in your little rented space, the four corners tend to look smaller and smaller when you’ve trapped yourself long enough in your head. It’s terrifying, to feel the walls closing in on you. So, you might as well take Kkami out on a walk where you aren’t encased in liminal space.

The breeze outside is the kind that takes all the weight off your chest, leaving you to start anew in your train of thoughts. When you try to find the beginning of when you had started to see Hyunjin differently, you lose the thread and find yourself empty-handed. No one has told you how difficult it is to tend to the knotted spool of love.

Was it in his kindness which he showed in the smallest ways, barely noticeable but there when you look close enough? He doesn’t smile in large amplified ways, but the way he looks at you with intention leaves such an impact.

Everything he does—on purpose and by choice and intentionally. From the way he constantly checks on you, and the umbrella he had offered, and the patience that never seems to run thin. He smiles and talks to you by choice, and he gets to know your dog intentionally. You’re enamored with the entirety of Hyunjin, with the way he’s passionate about his job, and the gentle way in which he helps those around him whether that’s driving Seungmin to Seoul or treating Jeongin to dinner. He’s beautiful as he listens, as he shows that he will always listen.

It’s a lot to handle, and it’s a huge epiphany to admit to yourself, so you walk without destination. Nature and the beauties of Angok, you find, can take your mind off of anything. Just like that day you had escaped the city.

There are birds singing from the trees, accompanying the wind with their tunes as they whistle. The breeze carries it everywhere, the sound of their whistling, the crashing of the waves bathing the seashore. Had you really existed in a time before you’d known the salt of the ocean breeze and the sun shining the entire village with a glow?

Everything is beautiful here. There’s nothing that isn’t with the flurry of color bursting in the town of Angok, with the gentle chatter of generations of people who live there, with Hyunjin’s back walking a little ahead of you.

“Hyunjin?”

Maybe you don’t really care about the multitude of ways you can unravel the knotted spool. Maybe the only thing that matters is this moment with him, and every other moment with him.

He turns around immediately at the recognition of your voice, lifting a hand up to wave at you before greeting Kkami. You shoot him a smile, speeding up a little to catch up with him as he stands planted on his spot. Kkami runs faster than you do, already barking by Hyunjin’s feet and jumping up to get the boy’s attention.

There is no overthinking in the way he smiles back at you so easily. No thread to think about.

“Hi.” His gaze never falters from yours, even as noises stir around from a distance.

“Hello. I was just walking Kkami.”

“If we’re going the same way, why don’t we walk together?” He offers.

“Okay.”

A heartbeat passes.

“By the way, what are you doing out here? You know… instead of being in the library.” You ask inquisitively, not used to seeing him outside so early in the day.

“Seungmin’s been a bit anxious over the next part of his exams, so I went to buy him some food. It always calms him down.”

It’s only then you realize the bag of food he’s holding, and the sight only melts your heart further.

“You’re a really good friend.”

“I just do good upon others as I wish the same for myself.” How lovely, how he wants to make the world so painfully beautiful that people want to live in it.

“Well, the world isn't as cold and gloomy because of you.” You smile, and Hyunjin can’t help the way his words jumble up in his mouth at the kindness you utter. He’s wordless, all tangled in longing and flustered-ness.

You make him feel like he can hold sunlight in his hands.

“I’ll be going this way now.” A point in the opposite, and Hyunjin can only frown in disappointment of your time cut short.

“Take care.” He says, standing his ground as he watches you and Kkami start to walk away from him.

Static is zipping through the air, louder than ever. Hyunjin’s fiddling with the straps of his pants, contemplating and contemplating and contemplating—

“(Name)!” The sound of your name on Hyunjin’s lips makes your head instantly turn back.

“Yes?”

Hyunjin’s fumbling with everything he’s ever known, eyes falling to his own hands before back to yours.

“By any chance, are you going to have dinner—“ Hyunjin pauses. No, that doesn’t sound right. “I mean, are you busy tonight?”

“I’m not.”

A knowing smile on both your faces.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

The thread is long gone.

ten.

Hyunjin has a profound ability of surprising you every time. He’s almost unpredictable in his kindness—showing up when you’re drunk, refilling your plate with meat, and now handing you a bag of dog toys for Kkami.

“I thought he might like this.”

“Oh, thank you.” You take the bag gratefully, smiling at the selection of chew toys inside before looking back up at the boy. “I haven’t gotten him anything nice, so thank you, really.”

“I also have this for you.” He brings out more shyly this time—a necklace beaded in shells. You look down at it, the necklace. No one’s given you anything in a long time. “You always have this look on your face when you look at the beach. So, it just… reminded me of you.”

You lift it up carefully, almost feather-like as you stare at the simple necklace.

“Hyunjin.” The way he’s looking at you is so powerful, yet so vulnerable at the same time, eyes tinging in hope that you’d like the little present he had gotten you. It’s a look you can feel inside. “Thank you.”

He helps you wear it when you attempt to wrap it around your neck yourself. Wordless, you don’t have to say anything as he gently closes it to encase it around your neck.

“Do you like it?” There it is again. That vulnerability.

“I love it.” You smile, hand lifting to fiddle with the necklace. “I’m never taking it off.”

Hyunjin’s eyes soften, features glowing under the streetlights as you finally resume your walk to where you’ll be eating dinner together.

He had called himself out multiple times as he was pondering over whether to buy it for you or not the moment he sees it, telling himself he was too obvious with the way he feels for you, and yet the thought of the sincerity in your face when you receive it overpowers the voice in his head. He finds himself getting it for you. He was always gonna get it for you the moment he saw the necklace.

“Then, do you want some chicken and beer?” Hyunjin asks as you reach a crossroad, multiple intersections splitting the road into separate parts of the village.

“Chicken and beer?”

“Mhm. Last night, I was actually gonna ask if you wanted chicken and beef before Seungmin tagged along.”

“Oh?” You smile at the thought. “That sounds good actually. Wait, let me search a place up.”

You barely even unlock your phone when Hyunjin starts speaking again.

“Well, if we go that way,” he motions to the first intersection. “There’s a really old place that sells amazing fried chicken. And there’s a place down that way where the interior is nice and spacious, but the chicken doesn’t taste as good.”

“And down that way,” he continues, pointing towards the other intersection. “There’s a place with outdoor tables known for its refreshing beer.”

“You’ve really done your research.” You grin, fiddling with the phone in your hands as you look at Hyunjin who has his shyly behind his back after he has finished speaking.

“Yeah.” He exhales, smile still on his face. “Just in case.

Just in case he got enough courage to ask you out is the continuation of his sentence, though he chooses to omit it for now.

“I…” You ponder, recounting the options in your head before forming a number 3 with your fingers. “Choose number three. Beer tends to vary more in taste than chicken.”

“I see.” He nods his head, taking your words in as he thinks about the numerous times fried chicken had tasted the same to him. “Well then, let’s go that way?”

A silver of the moon shines on the two of you as you settle down the table, arriving 10 minutes after you had pondered over your choices at the intersection. The night breeze is pleasant, blowing in between the two of you until your stomachs are full from the food.

“This is so refreshing.” You praise after having taken a chug out of your beer, leaning your head back to savor the taste longer. “Whoever thought of eating chicken and beer together is a genius.”

He listens, hanging on to every single word you say as he takes a bite out of his own piece. The sight has him wondering if you were free tomorrow too.

Similarly, you’re thinking if you should try to invite him to watch Little Mermaid with you again.

“Are you also busy tomorrow?” His sudden question has your cheeks heating up despite the cold of the breeze and the beer.

“Why? Do you wanna see a movie?” It comes out fast, blurted, speeding from your mouth.

“A movie?”

Oh, shit. You didn’t even realize how you’d suddenly sprung up the topic on him without so much as an introduction.

“What I meant was… there’s just this movie I really wanted to see, and I think it’s out in theaters already.” You laugh a little at your own slip up, hoping to have clarified it better.

The sound makes Hyunjin’s smile widen.

“I see.” He takes a sip out of his own beer.

It’s silent for a while. A second blending into a minute, until you decide you can’t take it any longer.”

“Do you want to come with—“

“Should we watch—“

You make eye contact the moment you speak over one another, and it’s enough to trigger the laughter that’s bubbling in your throats at the sheer coincidence of asking each other out at the same time.

“Only if it’s okay with you.” He says once the pair of you stop giggling, tone significantly softer..

Always putting your comfort at the top priority.

“I’d actually really like that.”

It’s all smiles as you pay for your meal, and you don’t quite notice the slow pace in which the two of you are walking home, as if never wanting the moment to end. As if the great sense of contentment is too much to let go of right away.

Your footsteps fall in with Hyunjin’s, and your smiles never leave your faces on the rest of your way home.

eleven.

Hyunjin spends two days in Seoul to accompany Seungmin as he finishes up the final stages of his Civil Licensure exam.

The first day away from the library is spent just at home, cleaning and finishing up on chores you’ve been meaning to do—putting away your clothes after doing laundry, feeding Kkami, sweeping the floors, and even dusting some shelves because of the abundance of free time. It’s therapeutic, the way you’re able to hold your own time and decide what you want to do for the day. In the afternoon, you walk your chihuahua outside, exploring more of Angok than you could’ve dreamed. It’s a beautiful village, and you find you don’t mind the lengthy walk. If it means you get to be with nature leisurely, you don’t have anything to complain about.

There’s so much time for happiness here, unlike the dark of your room in the city.

When you pass by the library the next day to continue mapping out Angok, you’re surprised to see the hunched over figure of Felix by the benches. You wonder what he’s doing here.

“Felix?” You speak cautiously, tentative even as you walk to his side.

The closer you get, the more you hear his sniffles. An alarm sounds in your head, and you immediately reach a hand over to rub his back as gently as possible. “What’s wrong?”

The words he mumbles are unclear, incoherent as they come out jumbled and stuttered. When he finally lifts his head up, the sight physically hurts you. Who could dare hurt the sun?

You move some of his hair out of his face, sitting down next to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Instead of answering, he lunges forward, jumping in your arms to seek comfort in your hug. It catches you by surprise, not because you’re uncomfortable, but because it’s only now you realize how long you’ve gone without a hug. You didn’t grow up from an affectionate family, and your time in the city knew of no comfort. This feels far better than pressing your back against your bed.

Snapping from the initial shock, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer which only seems to let him release a louder sob. It seems he really needed this.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.” His words are deep and choked, head still buried on your shoulder as he soaks up the shirt you’re wearing.

“You could never disappoint anyone.” You run a hand through his hair, the other hand running smooth circles on his back.

You don’t know how long you hold him like this, but after a while, his tears finally subside and he moves to pull away from the embrace. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Reaching out, you swipe away the tears on his wet cheeks, smiling softly. You’re relieved when you see him return the gesture. It seems he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but you find that it’s okay. He likes that you just listen without demanding him to tell you everything.

“Wanna go eat something at Minho’s? My treat.” You whisper, afraid to startle the poor boy, and his eyes seem to brighten at the suggestion.

“Would that really be okay?”

“Of course. Come on.” You walk with him to Minho’s little restaurant, making small conversation about anything he wants to talk about. If it means he’ll forget about whatever hurt him, you appease any topic that spills from his mouth.

“Ah, good afternoon (Name), Felix.” Minho waves when you enter his space, and you wave back at the boy.

He finally knows your name.

The ten minutes it takes to wait for the food is apparently the same time it takes for Jisung and Chan to stumble into the restaurant and greet the two of you loudly. They drop at where you’re seated, adjacent from you and Felix as they ask you questions of how you’re doing and what you two were up to.

You’re keen to stay as Felix’s emotional support, looking at him first before answering the two boys. It seems he feels way better now, in the presence of people he considers home.

“Look what I have.” Jisung brings out another tupperware from his bag, opening it up to reveal some cupcakes his mom had probably baked again. He excitedly takes one for each of you, babbling about how he can’t finish it all himself or else he’ll suffer from high blood pressure. “I’m glad I bumped into you guys. My mom’s been going crazy with the baking.”

“Felix likes baking too, right?” You turn to the boy next to you, and he nods his head as he recalls the conversation you had earlier on the way here.

“I’ve been trying to make some brownies.” He’s proud as he speaks, hands moving animatedly as he explains to them the process. The three of you listen carefully, immediately demanding him to bake some for you guys to which Felix says he will in his free time.

“Jeongin’s on his way.” Chan nudges Jisung who suddenly stands from his seat. He grabs a cupcake from the container, and you think he’s about to give it to the younger boy when suddenly, the icing crashes on the unsuspecting Jeongin’s nose.

“Are you nuts, Jisung?!” He exclaims, peeling the cupcake away from his icing-stained face.

“That’s what you get for rejecting my kisses.” Jisung smirks mischievously, though it’s quickly wiped off when Jeongin swiftly grabs a chunk of the icing and slaps it on the older boy’s cheek.

Minho’s voice is booming as he says, “Hey, don’t get the floors dirty!”, though there seems to be a hint of fondness on his features as he watches everything unfold before him.

“Oh my god.” With a hand covering your mouth, you can’t help the giggles from spewing it as Felix snorts from beside you.

“Come here, let’s wipe it off.” You get up from your seat, guiding Jeongin to the seat next to yours as you grab a pack of tissues from your bag, moving to wipe the smeared icing from his nose, cheeks, and eyes.

“What about me?” Jisung pouts, and Chan all but laughs as he pulls the boy down to start doing the same thing.

“Are you guys okay?” Felix’s voice is way steadier now, more than it was earlier, and it even holds laughter in it. Your heartbeat calms down at knowing he must feel better. At least this moment can take away what pained him, even for a few hours.

“You have a death wish, Han Jisung.”

“Not the government name.”

Though, Jisung only laughs at the threats spilling from Jeongin’s lips, proud of his work.

When Minho brings the food, Jisung successfully pulls him down to eat with all of you. It’s polarizing how you used to hate meal times, used to hate thinking about what to eat, or the fact that you’d be eating alone. Now, with laughter roaring from your table, you find yourself excited.

People are calling out for you to eat.

You spend hours there, listening to their stories. Before you know it, night dawns upon you, and Felix offers to walk you home.

“(Name)?”

“Hm?” You turn your head to look at Felix who’s already looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything, though.” You laugh, and Felix shakes his head as he maintains unwavering eye contact.

“Thanks to you, I feel happier now.” There’s a toothless grin on his face, though, it’s threatening to grow even wider by the second.

He genuinely looks happy.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Felix’s words stay stuck in your mind even as you lay down to sleep. For a brief moment, you were able to make him happier. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more accomplished than this very moment. There are no words to describe how beautiful the feeling is of being the cause of someone’s smile.

The rest of the night is spent thinking, and it’s only when your phone buzzes is it interrupted.

hyunjin (10:48pm): hi, are you asleep? i hope i’m not bothering you

yn (10:49pm): hello! not asleep yet :) you’re not bothering me at all

hyunjin (10:51pm): seungmin’s exams ran longer than i thought

yn (10:51pm): tell him i said hi !!

hyunjin (10:52pm): is texting a bother? do your wrists hurt when you type?

yn (10:52pm): just a little

He calls you suddenly, and it’s enough for your heart to jump straight out of your chest. Pressing the phone to your ear, you finally speak. “Hello?”

“I hope your wrists don’t hurt anymore.” You can hear the mumble of cars honking in the background, but his words tune them out.

“I guess this will do.”

Hyunjin pauses for a moment, allowing himself the moment to soak up the warmth of your voice and how two days is far too long to be away from your sweet voice.

“It’s nice to hear your voice.”

You swallow hard, shutting your eyes as you bring the phone away a little to let out a suppressed scream. You feel like a schoolgirl, kicking your feet and giggling over his words.

Calming yourself down, you reply, “But, don’t you have to sleep now?”

“Hmm, not yet.“

“Well, what do you wanna talk about?”

“Everything. I wanna know everything about you.” He breathes from his end of the line, running a hand through his hair.

You can hear the sincerity from his voice even if you can’t see him.

“Oh.” You murmur. There’s a blush playing on your cheeks. How is he able to make you feel everything all at once?

The conversation lasts almost 2 hours, until he has to let you go so you can sleep before the clock strikes one in the morning. He feels slightly terrible for keeping you up, but he’s selfish in that it doesn’t bother him that much. Hyunjin missed you, missed the lull of your voice, and he’s happy to have heard it before going to sleep.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? For the movie?”

“Okay. See you.”

You can almost see him, open-mouthed smiles as he speaks. It’s always so evident in his voice when he does.

“Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

Hyunjin drifts off to sleep, and it’s the best one he’s had since yesterday.

twelve.

You tug at the dress you’re wearing as you wait outside the theater building. It’s a simple sleeveless white dress that goes down just above your knees, yet you’re still a little nervous whether you’re underdressed or overdressed. Your hair is down as it always is, a little messed up from the wind, and you had worn lip gloss after Kkami had barked once when you’d asked him.

It’s a simple theater for a simple date. You’re not even sure if you could call it a date, yet you were both ecstatic to finally watch the movie and to watch it with Hyunjin.

Smoothening down the creases of your dress that aren’t even there, you finally catch sight of Hyunjin from afar. He looks so handsome with his white sweater and denim pants, hair tucked behind his ears as he wears a pretty-boy-but-is-unaware smile.

Aphrodite’s son.

He’s waving at you, cheeks flushed in a warmth you fail to see as you try to suppress your own grin.

His knee-jerking reaction to you is open-mouthed staring, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips to your hair to your dress all in the span of a second.

Hyunjin isn’t as relaxed as he thought he was. He had prepared himself to see you again after two days, prepared to watch a movie with you and possibly brush hands as you reach for the popcorn, though he wasn’t quite prepared for the white dress you’re wearing. His brain short circuits, and he’s malfunctioning.

“Shall we head inside?”

He’s not able to respond right away. You’re pretty, and he’s nervous, and you’re pretty, and his palms are sweating, and you’re pretty, and words are failing him, and you’re pretty, and you’re shifting your weight back and forth, and you’re so pretty.

“(Name).” Hyunjin’s finally able to say. “You look beautiful."

You look up at him and he looks away. You can only blush in response as you thank him, fiddling with the necklace you’re wearing.

“I’m wearing this by the way.” If Hyunjin thought he couldn’t smile even more, he was wrong, especially peering down at the necklace he had gifted you. The one you’re wearing.

It was nearly seven o'clock when you finished watching the movie. You’re still excited over seeing one of your favorite Disney princess’s on the big screen, but you’re starting to feel a little tired.

The crowded bus was too much for the both of you, so you decide to walk back together. Thirty minutes might sound like a long walk, but Hyunjin begs to differ if it meant being separated from you at the end of it.

Thirty minutes is way too short to walk with you.

“The movie was fun.” He breaks the silence, and you nod your head in agreement with a huge smile on your face. You can still picture Ariel in your head, yet what stuck out most to you was the panicked way Hyunjin had been when he first walked in before completely relaxing when he was seated next to you.

“Hyunjin.”

“Yes?”

“You seemed like you’ve never been to a theater before.”

“It is my first time.” He looks down at his feet, a small grin tugging on his lips at how he’ll forever be able to hold the memory of watching a movie for the first time in theaters.

Especially when it was with you.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing.” It comes out as a whisper, genuinely shocked that Hyunjin hadn’t bothered coming into theaters at all. There’s so much to him, and you want to learn them all.

“Why don’t we kill some time by playing 21 questions?”

“Okay.” He replies a little too quickly for his liking. He can’t hide his eagerness at getting to know you and everything about you. Like that phone call last night.

“Okay.” You repeat, smiling while nodding your head as you think of a question to ask. “Hmm, what’s your favorite fruit?”

“Apples are my favorite.”

“Wow, you answered so quickly.” A quiet chuckle escapes his lips at the realization. Though, you should’ve made the connection when he had mentioned apples back when you had offered him some ice cream.

“Mine are strawberries!” You point excitedly at the black crochet bag you always carry with you, a big strawberry in the middle.

“Strawberries.” He keeps in mind, looking back at you as you keep talking, asking him one question after the other.

You are so lovely, Hyunjin thinks. The sort of person puts a smile on everyone’s face when you walk into the room. The way you quietly speak and the humble way in which you treat everyone has Hyunjin thinking that you must be unaware of how much of an impact you actually have on the people around you.

Seungmin is thankful for you, admiring your hard work. Hyunjin has caught him rereading the article you had written multiple times, praise leaving his lips when he thinks no one can hear.

Chan sees you as a little sister, so fond of you in such a short amount of time. He thinks he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face.

Felix thinks of flowers when he sees you.

“Oh, the moon looks so pretty tonight.” You suddenly mention, staring wondrously at the bright moon and the way the stars litter the sky.

“Do you wanna sit down for a moment?”

“Can we?” The excitement in your voice is hard to miss as Hyunjin guides you over to sit on a block situated at the side of the street. It’s the perfect spot, offering you a view of the sea and the pretty night sky.

You close your eyes to listen to the waves crashing clearer, to feel the breeze better, to smell the salty scent of the sea.

Your thoughts drift everywhere; to your escape from the city to the first time you met Hyunjin and the way he hadn’t spoken a single word to you. It’s always been at the back of your head, but you never so much as spared it any time to resurface. Though, now was probably the perfect time to ask him about it.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Of course.”

“When we first met, why did you not talk to me?”

Hyunjin thinks back at the time, almost letting out a small laugh in embarrassment when he remembers the way he had greeted you with nothing but silence. It was only a matter of time before you’d ask him.

“Actually…” He looks down at his hands, carefully folded on his lap. “I have trouble talking to strangers.”

“Does that mean you feel comfortable around me now?” Oh, his stomach doesn’t feel so great at the way you’re looking at him right now. He has never felt such violent butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah.” Blink and you miss it, the way his eyes flicker to your lips before frisking them away to stare at the moon instead.

You stretch your legs out, swaying them back and forth as you lull your head back to stare at the vastness of the sky. The waves and your subtle breathing are the only sounds that accompany the stillness with Hyunjin.

How long had that same peace transferred from the library to the boy seated beside you?

This moment feels nice, though, it seems to only be a catalyst at making you realize how real your feelings are. Hyunjin really is starting to feel like love.

He looks at you as you’re too busy staring at the little things nature had sent to keep you two company.

“When I’m with you, it’s nice that I don’t have to talk so much.” You say suddenly.

His eyes never once leave you as you speak, and it only has his heart beating faster when he realizes that the look in your eyes is something so similar to the way he looks at you. It’s the same one he gives you when you don’t notice him looking at you. The stripped back and bare softness he shows even when he doesn’t try to.

“It’s the opposite for me.” He speaks with a smile that he doesn’t even notice has grown brighter and brighter. “When I’m with you, I tend to talk more.”

Lovestruck is the only word to describe the way his words slip out of his mouth, and no level of words can possibly describe the softness in his eyes.

“Ever since I was young, talking to someone… always felt like a burden to me. It’s never felt that way with you.”

The way you’re looking at him only encourages him to speak more—your naturally dusted cheeks, gentleness swimming in your eyes, and the wind blowing through your hair. How can you sit there and be so unaware of how beautiful you are?

“This is a little selfish of me but…” Midway through his sentence, he breathes out a little. As if to help him in saying what’s burning on the tip of his tongue. “I hope you don’t leave.”

You lean forward to hear him better.

“When you first came to the library to make a membership card, when we spent the afternoon repairing books, when I took you home when you were completely wasted… when we had ice cream together on the library bench, when we went to interview the old lady together, and when you let me meet Kkami the night we had dinner together…”

What was happiness before he knew what your smile looked like and what your voice sounds like? Hyunjin’s voice gradually softens with each memory he recounts.

“I was happy. I’m truly happy that you came to Angok.”

There's a stifling silence on the other end, as you process his words.

You never stood a chance. You were gone the moment you had set eyes on him, when you had accidentally caused a small commotion in Angok’s public library. You had signed over your heart the second he had uttered his first words to you—“you’re hello again.”

His eyes flicker from yours down to your lips, and there’s a hitch in your breath as you breathe in. It feels as though your heart could explode at any moment.

Hyunjin reaches out to brush a hand against your cheek, tentative as he draws himself closer to you. His hand is warm against the night breeze, and you find yourself leaning against him unconsciously.

“So I really hope you don’t leave.” He whispers, and you breathe at the overwhelming sincerity.

His eyes drop back down to your lips, face hovering over yours. Almost hesitant. It’s like he’s waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to show you won’t leave. You push your lips in his, and he’s still for a second, as if unable to believe you’re kissing him at this very moment.

When he’s finally able to recover, he keeps a hand cupped on your cheek while the other travels around your waist. He holds you against him tightly, but his lips couldn’t be any more gentle as they move against yours. It’s soft, unmoving even. Your heart flutters when his lips chase after yours after you pull away for a second to catch your breath, and you’re kissing again.

Again and again and again until all you can think about is him. You had always been afraid of seeing the city in his eyes and feeling it in his lips, but you never did.

His eyes struggle to stay open when you push your foreheads together, finally breaking away from the kiss. There’s a small smile on his mouth, the one he always wears with you, and the look of fondness in his eyes.

“I’m not gonna leave.”

A shooting star spears through the dark. You both wish to stay like this forever.

thirteen.

A few days after your silent confession, Seungmin passes the Civil Licensure exam.

The boy had apparently been trying to hide his success from Hyunjin, yet was unsuccessful when he forgot he had given Hyunjin the log-in credentials to the site when he thought he’d be too nervous to view it himself.

So, you and Hyunjin plan a surprise celebration.

If Seungmin hadn’t been so caught up in trying to hide the secret you had already known about, maybe he would’ve noticed the way Hyunjin disappears from the library sometimes only to reappear, and the way you’ve been on your phone way more often than you normally are.

Getting Seungmin to the rooftop of Chan’s home was easier than you had expected. For someone who asks a lot of questions, Seungmin had simply stared at Hyunjin suspiciously when he had suddenly expressed the urge to watch the night’s constellations at Chan’s roof. Yet, feeling like he owed the boy for driving and staying with him in Seoul, he complies.

The surprise had taken a while to plan, yet everyone was willing to help after hearing the news. Everyone sits on the roof to wait, antsy when they hear Seungmin’s blabbermouth complain about accompanying Seungmin as he gets on the stairs. You all see Hyunjin first, who’s subtly pointing at his back to signal that Seungmin was coming in hot.

When he finally emerges from the steps, all of you jump in a chorus of “Surprise!”

There’s a small tarpaulin with Seungmin’s name and a congratulations tied between two makeshift posts, and the boy hides his face in embarrassment when he spots a poorly photoshopped picture of him on the side of the printed paper.

“It’s nice to celebrate this good news with everyone.” Hyunjin says, and while Seungmin’s continuing to blabber about in mock irritation, all of you know he’s grateful by the way he looks at how the rooftop is decorated in awe. Fairy lights are hung around like additional stars, and everyone has bright smiles on their faces as they all go in to wish the boy their individual congratulations.

“Congratulations on making it to Seoul!” Chan’s voice is booming as he hugs the boy. While Seungmin naturally recoils from any form of skinship, he finds himself returning most of the hugs given to him.

“Make sure you eat a lot.” Minho smiles as he looks proudly at the food he had brought, all set on the table as he prepares to cook some beef to serve as all of you eat.

“Thank you for the food!”

“Is it good?” Minho’s grilling meat on the side, continuing to prepare food as everyone around him eats satisfyingly. Sometimes, Jeongin would get up from his seat to feed Minho a piece to make sure he was eating too.

“It’s so juicy.” Changbin exclaims in pure ecstasy, and Chan can only laugh at his exaggerated response. “Your beef always tastes good, Minho.”

Jeongin’s walking around with a platter of cooked beef to serve for everyone, like he does at Minho’s restaurant. Lovely chatter echoes from the roof, laughter prominent as Jisung is on fire with his jokes. All the while, Seungmin is roasting the poor boy.

“This is the good stuff. Look at the marbling on this meat.” Minho boasts as he sets down the final platter on the table, taking a seat next to Jisung as he finally starts digging in. “Jeongin, come and eat.”

“This is so good.” Your mouth drops after you swallow the piece of beef you had grabbed. Minho just laughs fondly at the praise as he keeps eating.

As your eyes travel around everyone on the table, you can’t help but think of something your mom used to tell you — a home isn't always the house we live in. it's also in the people we choose to surround ourselves with.

Home is the gleeful playing of instruments from Jisung and Changbin, it’s baked in an oven and served fresh as brownies from Felix, it’s grateful smiles from Seungmin, it’s Chan trampled with fondness, it’s the grilled beef Minho is cooking, it’s Kkami barking in happiness as Jeongin plays with him, it’s the hand holding yours and the gentle smile on Hyunjin’s lips as he urges you to eat more.

“Oh, before I forget. I have something for you.” Said boy brings you back to reality, and he pulls out a magazine in his hand, smiling widely as he looks down at it then at you expectantly.

“What is it?” You take it from him, flipping through the pages.

“Youth of Angok. It was released yesterday.”

“No way!” You look for the article you wrote, skimming through the pages before smiling at the photo of the old lady you had taken. “Wait, hold on. Don’t tell me you read it already.”

“No, I haven’t read it yet.” Hyunjin has a fair share of tells when he lies. One of them is in the way he can’t look at you, like the way he’s avoiding your eyes right now. “It was great by the way. You write so well.”

You laugh, giggles blending with Jisung’s music. “Thank you.”

Changbin’s booming voice interrupts all the ongoing conversations, abruptly getting up as he grabs a box he had hidden to the side. “I have a surprise now that we’re all full. Sponsored by Seo’s convenience store, you’re welcome.”

He hands each one of you with sparklers, and it’s absolutely beautiful when he lights them up and pushes everyone to get up and dance to Jisung’s guitar accompaniment as the fireworks glow from everyone’s hold. Like everyone is capable of holding fire in their hands.

Music from your childhood plays in your head, the same one you never thought you’d hear again as Hyunjin tugs on your hand to pull you to where everyone is dancing, a sparkler on the hand that isn’t intertwined together.

“This is so pretty!” Felix exclaims, waving it around as the lights spring out of the stick in his hand. Jeongin’s carrying Kkami now, dancing with him in his arms.

“I’ve never done this before.” Felix looks to you with so much happiness radiating off of him, dancing around as he stares at his sparkler fireworks.

“Me neither.” You reply with the same excitement, looking to see Hyunjin already looking at you with a smile on his face. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

You thought about what happiness is.

You’ve looked it up in a dictionary once—it is a state of being pleased, fulfilled, and content in life. You think that definition is too long.

Happiness. The state of being sufficient.

Happiness. This moment right now.

Hyunjin’s arm snakes around you, pulling you closer to him as the wind flows between all of you, whisking your hair and ruffling your clothes up as happy singing falls in your ears.

“Hi.” He whispers, caressing your waist. It makes goosebumps erupt, and you know what he’s about to do as he presses a short kiss on your lips.

Sometimes, there doesn’t have to be thunderstorms. There’s no need for the sticky swarm of office workers, or the silence of dinners. You don’t have to think of the city. Sometimes, love is tucked away in a little town you least expect to find it. Sometimes, there is time to make happiness. And sometimes, family can be regained.

Your life is sufficient.

You’ll live this life.

1K notes · View notes

gaily-daily-musings · 6 months ago

Text

Literally no one asked for the nursing home reverse trope and because I am upset I'm taking it upon myself to make y'all suffer

(I've decided to make it a senior community rather than a nursing home)

Obi-Wan is 55. An official senior. He hates it. It's awful. Quinlan won't stop making fun of him despite being older than him.

Despite his initial hesitation, the community is regretfully nice. Mace and Yoda and Qui-Gon are all welcoming. He never thought he would be reduced to this but when the divorce hit he'd lost the house. He'd been living with Quinlan for over a year and felt bad for taking advantage. Given his money situation, his options were reduced to a housing community for seniors. He'd heard about it through Qui-Gon who was on his pickleball team.

There's a young man (34) working there. A maintenance man named Anakin Skywalker. Anakin is quite handsome and very charismatic. The ladies will often flirt with him and giggle over his arms. It's all harmless fun. Normally Obi-Wan isn't one to leer, but goodness he was certainly striking.

Obi-Wan near has a heart attack one day when he witnesses Anakin in swim trunks attending the pool. Lord, he's never felt like such a lecher. He's not used to this. To looking. He's a monogamous sort of a man. Never cheated. Even when he and Satine started growing apart years ago he never wavered.

Obi-Wan starts working out more for no particular reason. He was always fit for his age but feels more self conscious than ever. He tries to tell himself he was just trying to stay healthy, but he knew he was lying to himself. He feels ridiculous. The hell was he doing? Anakin was just a nice man jokingly flirting with the elderly. It wasn't serious.

The center puts together an annual event for the residents. This year they decide the theme is “senior prom”. It's stupid. Quinlan talks him into RSVPing.

Anakin is invited by Maria, one of the ladies who is particularly forward in her intentions. Obi-Wan tells himself not to be jealous and fails spectacularly.

Throughout the evening Anakin dances with several ladies. Obi-Wan yearns from the sidelines. He tries to work up the courage to ask. He's not afraid of being rejected, he's just afraid Anakin will see he's being earnest. Did he even want to be taken seriously? Did he want to pursue something real?

Maria makes her way to Anakin again as I've Had The Time of My Life plays. She has no shame as she feels up Anakin's arms and strokes his chest. He takes it in stride and winks down at her. She laughs as they spin around the room.

Three songs later Obi-Wan contemplates slinking back to his room.

“Would you like to dance?”

Obi-Wan startles. He hadn't heard him approach.

“I…uh, y-yes…” he stammers.

He takes Anakin's hand feeling like a school boy. His heart flutters in his chest. He knows Anakin is just being nice, he's already danced with everyone else after all, but he can't help the blush on his cheeks.

Obi-Wan let's Anakin take the lead as he's unsure if he'll be able to keep his head on straight.

“Did you go to your school prom?” Anakin asks.

“Yes. With my ex-wife actually. You?”

Anakin smiles. “Coincidentally I went with my ex too.”

“I didn't know you were divorced.”

“Widowed.”

Obi-Wan winces. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. You didn't know. It was years ago anyway.”

They move slowly across the floor. Obi-Wan consciously keeps his hands where they are appropriate.

“So, any kids?”

“Twins. They're 13.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “I don't envy you. I remember when my son was that age. He went through a whole goth phase.”

Anakin laughs. It's beautiful. “Aw man, you would have hated me then. I was really into the goth scene as a teen.”

They keep talking and dancing. At some point Maria kindly asks for her date back and they reluctantly part.

They come across each other while Obi-Wan is visiting the local park. He sees Anakin walking a dog as his kids eat ice cream. He doesn't want to intrude on what is clearly a family outing. But then Anakin spots him and waves him over.

Anakin introduces his children.

“You're that old guy dad talks about,” Leia says.

Anakin flushes.

“Did you fight in a war?” Luke asks. “Do you have any battle scars?”

After the initial awkwardness and round of interrogation, Anakin asks Obi-Wan if he wanted to join them for dinner. Unable to find a reason to say no he accepts.

For the record, Obi-Wan isn't an idiot. Normally when a young person sought out the company of a significantly older person, it was because they were a gold digger. But Obi-Wan hasn't much money to offer. He doesn't have much of anything really. He recalls Anakin mentioning that he never knew his father. With a heavy heart he realizes perhaps that was why Anakin wanted to be around him. He was an older father figure to him. Of course that must be it.

After dinner Anakin tucks his kids into bed (or rather just Luke as Leia has outgrown that). Obi-Wan helps clean up. Anakin says he should stay. It was late and he didn't want to send him home like this. Besides he had work in the morning so they could go in together.

Anakin lets him have the bed and sleeps on the couch despite his protests. The next morning Anakin sees the kids off to school. Obi-Wan makes everyone breakfast as a thank you. Anakin then drives them to the senior community. Obi-Wan gets out and goes to his apartment.

He is unfortunately seen getting out of Anakin's car. Rumors fly. His friends crowd him for details. Obi-Wan tries to tell them nothing happened but nobody believes him.

On his 56th birthday his pickleball team takes him out to celebrate. Little does he know that Qui-Gon has invited Anakin. He shows up with a present. Its pink shorts with the word pickleball on the booty. Obi-Wan's face feels warm.

Soon Anakin has to leave to go pick up his kids from school. Now gone, Quinlan takes Obi-Wan aside to ask him when he's gonna make a move on Anakin. Obi-Wan thinks he's being insane. Never? Anakin wasn't interested? Now Quinlan looks at him like he's the insane one.

“He literally gave you booty shorts! He wants to see your thighs!”

“That was a joke!”

Quinlan sighs. He asks the table if they thought Anakin was into Obi-Wan. They all say yes immediately.

“I thought you were already dating?” Bant asks.

The next day Obi-Wan sees Anakin doing maintenance in the lobby. He starts up a conversation. It was so easy to talk to him. Far too easy.

“By the way, thank you for your gift yesterday. Though I'm not sure they'll fit me, they may be a little small.” He jokes.

“I dunno, I think they'll fit just fine.” Anakin deliberately looks him up and down, lingering on his ass.

Obi-Wan gulps.

Later Obi-Wan is doing some swim aerobics in the pool with Yoda and Qui-Gon. Yoda mentions having had a heart attack two years ago.

“Seize the moment, one must. Lest life passes you by.” he looks straight at Obi-Wan as he says it.

Obi-Wan blinks. He frowns. He really didn't appreciate his friends barging into his love life. He tells them so.

“What love life? You're single.”

Obi-Wan has no retort.

Is it so wrong to not want to burden a strapping young man with someone like him? Someone who is wrinkled and old and has nothing to offer?

After swimming Obi-Wan grabs a towel and heads off back to his apartment. It's just a short walk over to the building. On the way he spots Anakin between the hedges fixing a sprinkler. He pauses. He looks down at his protruding belly. The worst he could do is utterly humiliate himself and be forced to avoid Anakin the rest of his life. Or until he moves.

“Hi.”

Anakin looks up. He smiles.

“Hey.”

His eyes linger on Obi-Wan’s chest. He swallows. It gives him the boost of confidence he needs.

“I was just, um, wondering if perhaps you wanted to…have dinner again? I can cook.”

Anakin hums, “I can't this week.”

Obi-Wan nearly deflates. He tells himself it's not the end of the world. It's fine. He starts to retreat, backing up the way he came.

“Sorry, of course. I didn't mean to impose. Anyway, I have to head back but it was nice to see you.”

Anakin catches his arm. “Woah, I didn't say I didn't want to, just that this week is no good.”

Obi-Wan blinks.

“But next week I'm open? I can pop by after work. That is if you're up for it still?”

Obi-Wan smiles. “Yes I'd like that.”

Anakin's hand lingers on his arm. Neither wanting to pull away just yet. Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“What would you like? F-for dinner I mean.”

“I'm not picky. Surprise me.”

“Alright then.”

“Alright.”

From the sidelines, Qui-Gon, Mace, Yoda, Maria, and several others are watching from inside the pool center. Maria sighs forlornly. “Should have known he would steal him right out from under my nose.”

“I think it's sweet,” her friend Amanda says.

“Very sweet.” Yoda nods sagely.

#obikin #my drabbles #reverse tropes #nursing home #obikin fic #they have the wedding at the senior center #its cheaper and anakin thinks its romantic to have it where they met #literally everyone comes

69 notes · View notes

mechazushi · 2 months ago

Text

youtube

Long story short on the video, it's just a breakdown about mummies in history as it correlates to the history of its media as well. It's still a good and informative break down (Definitely check it out and support the channel), but as it got to the point of breaking down the tropes seen in movies about mummies and how many of them were seen in previous novelizations, I got to thinking about a story idea of my own.

It kinda revolves around the whole distinction between mummies that are powerful sorcerers that get the benefit of looking like a human and less powerful mummies that are forced to shamble around and be stuck in their bandages. It also dips into the "The mummy is looking to brink back their dead lover who just so happens to be reincarnated." trope as well as "bandage mummies only exist as servants/violent body guards".

So it takes place in the height of England's Egypt Craze where tomb "Unboxing" was still a thing and some British f*cks as well as their ✨gorgeous female assistant✨start poking around in a tomb. It's a lesser known tomb and everyone makes it clear that this was dedicated to some high ranking guard that made a noble sacrifice or something so they decided to make the guy's funeral a little more special. The British guys write it off and go see if there's a bigger tomb to plunder investigate (I feel like I should also mention one of these guys is supposed to be the female's betrothed love interest that immediately gets ntr'ed once the actual green flag walks, or should I say shambles, into the picture.)

Female Assistant sticks around to explore the first chamber more deeply and shenanigans happen. She reads some passages on the wall that has foreshadowing bits into it, maybe translates a scroll or two by candle light because she can't sleep due to the ✨visions✨ or some shit, and ends up accidentally resurrecting the noble guard from earlier. It's initially the lower tier type of mummy, the type that's somewhat mindless and still wrapped in bandages. Shit goes down, maybe it tries to kill the other tomb raiders explorers but it doesn't pan out (personally, I see it as a loony-toons type moment with the Mummy trying to kill them, the Assistant foiling every attempt, and the British guys none-the-wiser) Eventually it's discovered that the mummy seems to recognize the Assistant as someone he once knew and now only obeys her commands.

The Assistant uses that to her advantage and manages to drag it/him back to their lodgings. I have nothing specific for this part, other than that the next third and over of the movie (I see this as a movie. Or a webcomic if you wanna torture yourself.) is just Tarzan and Jane antics where they fall in love with each other. It's also happening alongside a side plot where the mummy is slowly gaining memories/intelligence/the ability to speak as it/he slowly sheds his bandages in the process. (I don't picture him losing all of the bandages. I still like a little bit of monster left to f*ck with. And yes, it's handsome.) Basically he slowly starts reverting back to the noble guard he once was as he remembers why he sacrificed himself in the first place and why the Female Assistant looks so familiar to him.

The last third cuts back to the British guys and them getting to meet the monkey's paw consequence of their hubris. They do the same thing that the Assistant did, only they end up resurrecting an ancient and powerful sorcerer that was sealed away for humanity's greater good. Maybe they strike a deal with the guy, maybe they run like the little b*tches that they are, who knows. Anyway, the mummy guard's spider sense pings and he realizes who ended up getting reawakened. Come to find out, the sorcerer also thinks the Female Assistant looks pretty familiar and does some wibbly-wobbly magic to confirm that, yes, she is some reincarnation of a long dead princess(/competing sorcerer maybe? It would be a nice double twist if you're into that sh*t)

Big fight ensues, the good guys win, and the Female assistant rides off into the sunset on an Excelsior Model 19 with the Mummy boyfriend.

The End.

9 notes · View notes

nadja-antipaxos · 2 years ago

Text

Gold Eyes

Title: Gold Eyes

Fandom: The Mandalorian (2019)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Using OFC (Witch of Dathomir)

Summary: Din’s ongoing rivalry with his least favorite bounty hunter becomes something else once the kid enters the picture.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: : canon typical violence, handjob, fingering, PIV sex (protected and unprotected), oral sex (male and female receiving), swearing. kissing

Word Count: 4,972

Author’s Note: @einno-arko Happy Holidays! This is your Secret Santa gift. I tried to work in as many tropes as I could: enemies to lovers, the color teal, smut, little bit of angst, and fluff. Enjoy! Thank you to my wife @dailyreverie for giving this a beta read before I posted it. Graphic by me.

AO3

Din isn’t sure how he let this happen. He’s smarter than this. No one ever gets the jump on him. He’s a Mandalorian. But here he is with his foot caught in her snare upside down in a tree. With a precise shot of a small blaster, a net appears and knocks down his bounty by the ankles. He usually offers warm or cold. She never does. Warm. Cold. Maimed. Intact. She brings them in however she wants. He used to think it was because she had no patience but after years of their little rivalry, he knows she doesn’t move until it’s vital. He struggles against his restraints and hisses as it tightens around his foot and starts to swing him back and forth. He goes still as she drags the bounty back to her ship. Din closes his eyes feeling dizzy under his helmet and lets the annoyance simmer into piping-hot hatred.

Without warning, he’s dropped to the ground. Zalia waltzes over with a blaster rifle perched in between her shoulder blades. Her gold eyes peer down at him as a smirk grows on her mouth. That’s how everyone in the Guild knows her: Gold Eyes. Her dark fringe cuts right above her eyebrows. She has sharp cheekbones, pale skin, and a strong square jaw. No one knows her story. No one knows why a tall, striking human is racking up bounties instead of credits filming holovids. No one trusts her and that’s how she likes it.

“Figured you’d be off planet by now.” Din cuts the fibercord off his boot.

“That’s four to two. By the way.” Her smirk becomes a full grin. Her accent reminds him of the Armorer but not as stiff.

“It’s three to two.” He gets to his feet.

In her boots, they are the same height. She wears bulky black armor with an intricate and loaded weapons belt. A hefty teal cape hangs from her shoulders.

“Clean your visor. You must not be seein’ proper. I got that Arcona fair and square.” She taps his helmet with her knuckles.

Din sighs heavily. He had been tracking the Arcona for days. He did all the work. His finger had been on the trigger when she swooped in. Nothing fair about it. She could be kicked out of the Guild for that but he wants to beat her at this game.

“Gonna give me a ride to my ship?” Din asks.

“No! This doesn’t mean I like you.” Zalia laughs and snaps her helmet on.

Din lets out a long sigh as irritation courses through his veins. He truly hopes he never sees her again. But the universe is never that kind.

“Mando, look out!”

Din hears Zalia’s words before he sees the giant fist swinging toward his head. He dodges out of the way in time and reaches for his blaster. Before he can fire, Zalia throws a smaller vibroblade at the Houk’s corded neck. It doesn’t cut because the Houk’s body is so tough but it gets his attention. He roars and charges at her but she kicks off the wall of the alley and hops over his shoulder to safety. The Houk growls.

“I thought Houks didn’t like confrontation.” Din aims his blaster again but Zalia is in the way. He needs to take advantage of this. His attack would be a complete surprise. But he can’t just shoot her too. He may not like her but he isn’t going to kill her…yet.

“I’d say he likes it.” She’s quick on her feet as she avoids his hands. She sees a ledge and feels her rifle still on her back.

Zalia bends her knees to spring onto a ledge but Houk snatches her in his gigantic meaty hand. He tosses her to the ground like a youngling’s toy. Her hands scramble behind her. The rifle is no longer on her back.

Houk barks out a laugh as he stalks toward her.

“Not so fast now, are ya?”

Her gold eyes widen as she gropes her armor for a weapon. The Houk raises his titanic fist once to rein a crushing blow down on her and snap her helmet in two. She flings her open palm out as if to catch the fist before it makes contact. It’s impossible.

Din strides toward them and raises his right vambrace. He sprays bright fire all over the colossal bounty. The Houk shrieks at the pain. He runs blindly around the alley crashing into walls as he tries to put the flames out. Since the threat is distracted, Din’s gloved hand pulls Zalia to her feet. She could’ve let the Houk take him out. She didn’t. So, he hands her the blaster rifle.

Without a second’s hesitation, she hits the Houk through his thick skull. He collapses immediately. She stalks over and puts out the flames with her teal cape. Din wonders what it is made of since it doesn’t catch fire. She pulls off her helmet revealing the blonde streaks in her dark hair.

“So, what now?” Din tilts his head.

“We both took him down. 50/50?” Her gold eyes lock onto him.

“Your ship or mine?” Din asks.

“Yours but mine has the tow. Wait here. ” Zalia marches off to her ship.

Din waits, coming down from the adrenaline when she returns with the tow and a droid.

“No droids.”

“How else are we gonna carry it once we’re in your ship?”

“I’m here. You’re here. Droid goes.”

“Hook it up to the speeder,” Zalia tells the droid before rounding on Din. “Listen, you dim-witted, mismatched piece of chrome. That thing is huge. We are not–”

“Dim-witted? Who just saved your life?”

“After I bloody saved yours.”

They’re chest to chest ready to come to blows. She grips the front of his cape and he grabs for her arm.

“We’re using the fucking droid.”

“Not on my fucking ship.”

“Then I’ll just take the bounty. I’ll–”

“Hey! Are you two gonna clean this up or make out?” A Duros wearing an apron wanders into the alley. ��I got a business to run.”

“Make out? We are not–”

“Save it, sister. You and your boyfriend get out of here.”

The droid places the Houk on the tarp and hooks it up to Zalia’s speeder. She huffs and gets on. Din gets on behind her.

“That thing isn’t going on my ship.”

“Shut up the fuck up and listen to your girlfriend, Mando.” She kicks the speeder into gear while the droid follows alongside them.

“We don’t need your droid. Just help me drag it in.” Din tells her once they get to his Razor Crest. He unhooks the tow and begins dragging it up the ramp. He’s incredibly strong. Zalia picks up the end.

It takes longer than she would’ve liked with a lot more annoyance and grunting but they get the Houk into his carbonite storage.

“Told you we could do it.” Din sighs placing his hands on his hips.

“What do you want? A blow job?” Zalia scoffs and moves over to the crates.

Din just stares at her and doesn’t move. Images flood his mind of her on her knees and those big gold eyes looking up at him as she swallows–-

“I wasn’t serious.”

“Why did that Duros think we were a couple?”

“Cause he’s a fucking idiot. I would never touch you.”

“Like I’d let you.”

“Oh, I think you would. I think since I joked about blowing you it’s all you can think about.” She stalks over to him until his back is against the crate. Her hand touches the armor on his chest and travels down.

“You said you’d never touch me.”

“I guess we’re both liars.” She stops before she reaches his crotch.

“Do it.”

She stops to lick her palm and sees his length twitch. His hiss comes through the modulator as she tucks her hand into his trousers making her smile.

“Didn’t think you’d be vocal since you’re not much of a talker.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” She circles his tip with her thumb and he gasps. “What’s that then?”

“Fuck off.” He grits his teeth.

“Not very nice to the person stroking your dick.” She flicks her wrist.

“Oh, shit.” He leans his back against the crate. “Do that again.”

“Mmm.” She pulls her hand back and sucks her thumb into her mouth. “Do what?”

Din should’ve known she wasn’t going to play nice.

“Bend over.” He growls.

“Ooh, he’s angry.” Zalia chuckles.

“Can’t be mouthy if you’re stuffed full of me.”Din slides an arm around her waist and pulls her back against his chest.

“That a promise?” She looks over her shoulder at him.

“Bend over the crate and find out.”

Zalia slips her cape around her front and hits the release button on the legs of her armor. He never would’ve guessed she had such shapely thighs. The armor is designed for full protection and doesn’t show him much. He reaches out with a gloved hand to squeeze her ass as she bends over.

“Excuse you.”

He remembers himself and withdraws his hand.

“Spread your legs.”

He’s surprised when she listens and widens her stance. She brushes the hem of her underwear with her thumbs.

“Let me.” His voice is low

She stops moving.

“This okay, Zalia?”

“Yeah. It’ll be better when you stop talking.” She turns her head to shoot him a glare.

Din tugs her underwear down to her ankles. She shivers as her body is exposed to the cool air. He undoes his pants and shoves them down. He’s fully hard now. He swipes his hand through her folds and watches how his gloves glisten.

“Gloves off. I don’t know where those have been.” She glares at him.

He removes the gloves and wiggles his bare fingers. She leans back over the crate. He pushes a thick finger inside her. She holds back a gasp. It feels good. His thumb brushes over the bundle of nerves as his finger slowly moves in and out. Maker, he knows what he’s doing. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her. Even though she’s quiet, Din notices the change in her breathing. It’s shallow now.

He circles his thumb and adds another finger. She tips forward and braces herself on the crate.

She bites her lip as the pressure builds to an unstoppable point. Except at that moment, Din removes his fingers and waits.

Zalia exhales slowly and squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to give him a reaction. He walks over to the refresher and rolls on a sheath. She hasn’t said a word which seems unlike her.

“You ready?” Din asks.

“Yeah. We gonna do this ‘fore I fall asleep?” She rolls her eyes but he can’t see it.

He guides himself inside her and lets out a long breath. Fuck, she feels tight. He starts out slow.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” She hisses.

“Stop talking.” Din wraps a hand around her throat. He doesn’t squeeze. That’s not the point of this.

“Make me.” She clenches down on him and his hand falls.

The pace picks up until it’s deliciously brutal. Zalia pushes back against him and they build a steady rhythm. His finger finds that bundle of nerves once more and moves in tight little circles. Electricity trickles up her spine. She doesn’t even care if he leaves marks on her body because it feels so fantastic. A moan escapes her and Din smirks behind his helmet. Before she can explain it away, he pulls out and slams back in. She leans forward on the crate and grips it.

“Shit, Mando.”

He plants a boot on the crate and the change in angle is exactly what she needs. He kisses something devastating inside her and she falls apart in a sudden wave. It takes every bit of strength not to cry out in ecstasy. She’s panting on the crate, limp, while her body flutters around him. His hips push against the back of her thighs until he’s filling the sheath.

Din sighs and pulls out carefully keeping the sheath closed until he can dispose of it in the refresher. She’s waiting outside to use it when he’s done.

“Well, you’re not half bad at that.”

“Likewise.”

“My turn.” She shows him the new sheath in her hand.

She pushes his chest until he’s falling back on his cot. This time, she doesn’t make any comments about the helmet. She’s more focused on getting as many sounds out of him as possible and she does not play fair. Zalia rides him, giving as good as she got.

Satisfied in more ways than one, she gets off him and goes to the refresher first. Din knows three things. He cannot go again. She’s the best sex he’s ever had. And he’s never telling her that.

“I think I worked up enough of an appetite.” Zalia snaps the legs of her armor back on and walks to the door as he gets out of the refresher. He expected a very short goodbye.

She turns around.

“You coming along or what?”

Din tilts his head. Zalia rolls her gold eyes.

“This doesn’t mean I like you.”

“This looks familiar.” Zalia raises her eyebrows.

Din hangs upside down in the Razor Crest with his arms bound.

“I heard about your big showdown on Nevarro. You caught a bounty, delivered it, and took it back? Who does that?” She stares at him incredulously. “Did you get a better deal?”

“Zalia, listen. Listen.” Din tries to reason with her. “If you knew, if you–”

“I know we didn’t get on and we just fucked…a lot but I gotta say you really surprised me. You blew up your life for what?” Zalia shakes her head. She’s about to say something else when she feels something. He isn’t alone.

She hears him shouting at her to stop but she climbs up the ladder. She sees the cockpit and looks around spotting an orb-shaped pod. It’s where the energy is the strongest. With a wave of her hand, she opens the pod. Two giant glassy black eyes stare at her attached to a big green head with long ears. The creature coos at her. It’s a child.

She stretches out her hand and guides the pod into the air. The creature squeals delightedly. It lands in front of her before raising its hands and levitating the blanket.

“You got some tricks, huh?” She laughs. No wonder she felt a presence. She unzips a compartment on the chest of her jacket and pulls out a piece of jerky. She moves it over to the creature who greedily gobbles it up.

Those big eyes look expectantly at her for more and she smiles.

“Let’s see. What else do I have?” Zalia unzips another pocket and hands the creature a blue jewel which he wills back to her through the Force.

It becomes a game between the two of them. The jewel isn’t worth many credits. All its value is sentimental. She gets immersed in the game and doesn’t pay attention to a certain someone clambering up the ladder.

“Zalia, get away from him. ” Din stops in his tracks when he sees the two of them moving the jewel through the air.

“You’re a him?” Zalia wiggles her eyebrows at the kid who laughs.

“How are you doing that?” Din asks cautiously.

“I’m Dathomiri.” She practically waves Mando off while giving the kid another piece of jerky. “My clan are Daughters of Allaya. We have powers like he does.”

The kid picks up the sphere from the control panel that he loves so much and guides it over to her. Zalia guides it back and it quickly becomes a new game.

“I got offered an obscene amount of credits to bring you in.” Zalia catches the sphere and floats it back to the kid. “But I don’t deal in kids. Especially not ones that are basically kin. But stars, you’re in it deep.”

“What do you mean?”

“His kind were hunted. Why do you think the bounty was so high? Look how bloody shiny you are!” She gestures to the beskar.

“I don’t know what they wanted with him. Just knew it wasn’t good.” Din sighs.

“The Guild thought I’d have the best shot at getting you. Didn’t say much else.”

“Where’s your ship?”

“Got stolen. I figured once I brought you in I could use this baby. But seeing as that isn’t going to happen, could you drop me off at your next stop?” She bats her eyelashes at him and twirls a strand of dark hair with bright red ends around her finger.

“You’re really not going to turn me in?” He hasn’t moved for fear of her grabbing the child. She really wouldn’t turn down a chance to beat him, would she? A couple of fucks and one shared bounty didn’t mean they were friends.

She takes the tracking fob out and crushes it under her boot. “About that ride?”

“It’ll be a couple of days,” Din tells her.

“How will we pass the time?” She arches an eyebrow playfully.

Once they hit hyperspace and the kid gets tuckered out from many games, Zalia joins Din in his room where she sucks him off. He comes so hard his soul nearly leaves his body.

“I would’ve given you the ride regardless.” Din pants as she gets to her feet.

“No shit. I just like seeing you crumble.” Zalia smirks.

“Take off your clothes and get on the cot.” Din orders.

“Think you can get it up already?” Zalia teases while removing her teal cape.

He makes her come twice as he thrusts in from behind and plays her perfectly with his thumb. After, she sleeps on the floor by the crates. She can sleep anywhere.

It’s a four-day journey and they develop a little routine. He pilots while she plays with the kid. They all eat together and at night, their old game is back on. At one point, she even spells her name with her hips before he nearly blacks out from such a powerful orgasm.

“You can join me in the cot,” Din says on their last night.

“Hard pass,” Zalia mumbles from her spot on the floor.

“Think you’ll find a ship on Batuu?” Din looks over at her.

“Are you worried?” Zalia giggles.

“You accepted my bounty, destroyed the fob, and you’re not dead.”

“So observant. It’s amazing.”

Din lets out a heavy sigh that Zalia imitates.

“They will come after you.”

“And?”

“You don’t have a ship.”

“So?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Zalia wraps her cape around her body tighter.

They land on Batuu and Din is able to refuel. He never thought he would trust Zalia Quinst but here they are. One of his only allies was once his greatest rival. The kid whines when she stands up to leave.

“Don’t go missing me, kiddo. Here.” She floats the blue jewel over to him.

The child blinks at her while clutching the jewel tightly.

“It’ll bring you luck.” Zalia pats his head and makes her way down the ladder.

Din waits there to lower the ramp for her.

“Someone real bad wants that kid.” She warns him.

“I know.”

“You don’t but still. Watch yourself.” Zalia readjusts her blaster rifle on her shoulder.

Before she can step forward, he places a hand on her elbow.

“Zalia–”

“Shut up, Mando.” She places a kiss on his helmet right above the visor where his forehead would be.

Din sighs heavily.

“This doesn’t mean I like you.” She turns back and winks.

He watches her disappear into the vast forest and wonders if he’ll ever see her again.

Din feels rudderless. Grogu is with his kind and Din no longer belongs to his. And he has to fly commercial. It’s supposed to be nonstop but the ship has to be repaired on a planet he’s never been on. He retrieves his weapons from the hold and wanders to a cantina.

“Come here often?” A nasal voice asks.

Din turns his head. He’s not really in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

“Zalia?”

“Hey, good lookin’. What’s cookin’?” Her accent returns as she laughs. She takes a seat next to him at the bar and takes the drink he was served.

“You’re alive.”

“You’re alone.”

“He’s with the Jedi now.”

“Hmm…lots of rules with the Jedi.”

“But not with your people?”

“Nope. Why aren’t you with yours?”

“Long story.”

“I’ll tell you mine and you can tell me yours?”

Zalia explains how she left Batuu and acquired a new ship in a game of a sabacc. Greef sent ten bounty hunters after her and she killed every one. She went back to Nevarro and was informed all was forgiven. Din shifts in his seat. She puts some credits down and stands up.

“C’mon, I got better stuff back at mine anyway.”

“Yours?”

“Temporary. You know how it is. Shoot a warlord and get new digs.”

He follows her to a small bungalow away from the main part of town surrounded by tall trees. She gestures to the seats on the porch. Din doesn’t talk at first. He just sits on the porch with her and watches the trees. At some point, she gets something to drink.

He tells her about the run-in with Moff Gideon on Nevarro all the way to his exile from the covert. He expects a smart comment or two but she just listens. Day turns to night and she just listens.

“I…” He heaves a sigh. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“Please, you’re still a Mandalorian. That Armorer sounds like a bitch. She tells you to take care of the kid, and be his dad, so you take off your helmet to find him and you’re out? Fuck her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Imagine if I had to say goodbye to my mum and never saw her face. You’re not a Mandalorian but you get to keep the dark sword? Ridiculous. The Jedi wouldn’t let you see him, but my people pass down knowledge of the Force from mother to daughter.” She takes a long drink from her cup. “They’re just words some arshole decided mattered but they don’t. Actions matter. You bled for him. You took care of him. Of course, you wanted him to see your face.”

Silence settles between them for a while until Din clears his throat.

“Darksaber not dark sword.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna remember that.”

“No?”

“Just to annoy that Armorer lady. Want me to beat her up?”

“No.” Din takes a deep breath in. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I did not kiss you, Bucket Head. Clean your visor.”

“Bucket Head?”

“I said what I said.”

“On Batuu. You kissed me.” He points to his forehead.

“Don’t read into it. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, Mando.”

“Din.”

“What?”

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

“Still Zalia Quinst.”

“You…you said actions matter.”

“They do. That doesn’t–”

Din removes his helmet letting it hang from his hand. Her gold eyes widen as they take in his face.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“You’re hot.”

Din backs her against the door.

“You made your life forfeit for me and the kid.”

“Told you I’d be fine.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to.”

“And now?”

“I do. Can I?”

“Yes.”

Their lips meet softly in a tender first kiss. She pulls back.

“How was that?”

“A little…reserved for you.”

“It was your first bloody kiss, yeah? I wasn’t gonna tongue you.”

“Shame. You have a talented tongue.”

“Bloody idiot.” She grips the front of his cape and drags him over. Her tongue traces his full lower lip and he gasps. She licks inside his mouth and he moans. It’s a lovely sound without the modulator.

With her other hand, she opens the door and pulls him through it until they get to her bedroom. They break apart to remove their armor.

“Dank farrik, these legs.” Din runs his hands down her wide hips down to her calves.

“Never said anything before.” Zalia brushes his soft brown curls as she kisses him. He surprises her this time by nipping her lower lip and sliding his tongue inside—quick study.

“This is the nicest you’ve ever been to me.” Din teases.

“Of course, now that I know you’re not an uggo.” Her gold eyes sparkle. “Lay down, handsome.”

Zalia tortures him by leaving tiny bites and licks all over his body to rev him up. He’s had enough and surges forward flipping them. Her head tips back when he kisses her neck and bites at her breasts. He settles between her thighs grazing the sensitive flesh before diving in. She moans loudly as he learns to use his tongue instead of his fingers. Then the smart bastard decides to combine them when she curls her hand into his hair. He groans into her skin and she loses herself.

“Mando…” She whines as she reaches her second peak. He doesn’t answer. “Din.”

His soft brown eyes look up at her and she smiles.

“C’mere.”

Din moves over her and kisses her neck. She can feel how hard he is against her stomach.

“I don’t have anything.” He whispers.

“It’s okay. I have an implant.” Her nails run down his neck and she feels him tremble.

“For taking in the local talent?” Din kisses her shoulder. He loves how her skin feels on his lips.

“Nah. I have high standards.” Zalia smirks. Din looks up and she uses her strong legs to roll him over.

“I do too.” Din sits up and pulls her with him. It’s incredibly close. He can see every amber fleck in those gold eyes.

She sits on his thighs and lines him up. He shudders when she takes him in her body.

“You okay?” She strokes his face.

“Perfect.” Din sighs and kisses her.

His hands find her waist as she rolls her hips. There is no space between them. Just two beings moving together in the soft light of her room. She cries out at how his body drags over her bundle of nerves. He’s so deep.

They’re building towards their crest and she falters. It’s too much. She can’t possibly. Her hands clutch onto his broad tan shoulders. Something has changed and he knows it too.

“Din…” Her heart pounds in her ears.

“Zalia, I’ve got you.” Din strokes her cheekbone with his thumb. “I’ve got you.”

That’s all she needs. They fall together. His fingers dig into her hips as he buries his face between her breasts. She cradles his head and strokes his curls. The only sound in the room is their staggered breathing.

Zalia untangles herself from him and disappears to the refresher. When she returns, Din has a sated smile on his face. He reaches out a hand and she takes it, letting him pull her into bed.

He rests his head on her chest as she drapes the blanket over them. He falls asleep to the soothing feeling of her fingers running up and down his scalp. It’s a tenderness he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Din wakes with a start. His helmet is off and he’s naked. He looks over and sees Zalia fast asleep next to him and he relaxes. Her dark hair has streaks of purple in it now. He brushes the back of his knuckles against the ends. She stirs so he leaves a kiss on the base of her spine.

“That tickles.”

Din does it again before taking a handful of her hair aside to kiss her shoulder blades. She rolls over and beckons him with her finger. Her hands caress his face.

“How do you maintain this?” Her thumb smooths over his facial hair.

“I’m allowed to see my face.” Din chuckles and Zalia’s eyebrows jump.

“He can laugh!”

Din kisses her thumb when she traces his full lips.

“You’re gorgeous.” She smiles and settles on top of him.

“Me? Do you know how fucking frustrating it is to hate you when you look like this?” He squeezes her wide hips.

“Do you still hate me?” Those gold eyes burn into him.

“No, cyar’ika.” Din doesn’t break her gaze.

“You know, I like to keep moving but I wouldn’t hate it if it was the same direction as you.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“But this doesn’t mean I like you.”

Din laughs loudly. Zalia leans down for a kiss and he flips them. He nuzzles her neck and she giggles.

Din grits his teeth behind his helmet. The bounty in front of him has the kid in its claws. Suddenly, something drops on its shoulders causing him to let go of Grogu. Din swoops him up. He turns back just in time to see Zalia shooting the bounty through the neck. He slumps forward and she hops down. Grogu waddles over to her.

“Hi, buddy. Remember me?” She smiles. There’s blue dye highlighted in her dark tresses.

Grogu shows her the blue jewel and stands on her boot. She picks him up.

“It’s a wonder he hasn’t eaten it yet.” Din walks over to her.

“Hey.”

They get the kid some food and wander to their temporary lodgings. Once inside, Din removes his helmet and tugs her into him.

“You’re a day early. Missed me?”

“Din, I–”

“I know. This doesn’t mean you like me.”

“No.” Zalia laughs and cups his face as he tries to hide his frown. “Cause I love you.”

“You’re never easy on me.” Din kisses her softly.

“Aw, you love me.” She chuckles.

“Ner mirdala cyar’ika.” His thumb brushes her chin.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x oc #oc: zalia quinst #fic: gold eyes

14 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

Play Pretend

summary: When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 7.8k warnings: smut (18+), sex pollen (with as much consent as one can have in a dub/con trope)

“What in the—” you slammed an elbow to the nose of the assailant behind you, “holy,” a quick right jab to another coming up on your left, “godforsaken,” a knee plunged straight to your ribs and you kicked to the assailant who managed to get one up on you, “hell, Rogers!”

Another body fell to the ground and settled at the collection at your feet.

Dripping in sweat, heart pounding in your chest, and your body short of giving out completely, you slumped a shoulder against the cold frame of the wall. Down the hall, at least a dozen more Hydra agents were barreling towards you.

There was no response on the coms; not that you expected as much. The Hydra base in Munich you were tasked with rigging to blow was meant to be abandoned. Nothing left but a dozen empty cells and decades of barbaric research no one should ever lay eyes on again.

Seemed Captain Roger’s intel was just slightly off. Tell that to the series of bodies lying in your wake.

“You better send backup, Rogers, or I swear to God I’ll haunt your star-spangled ass for all eternity,” you grumbled to the broken transmission as you attempted to square up. Fists out ahead of you, swaying slightly on weakened legs, a dizziness in your vision making it hard to tell exactly how many men were charging straight at you.

“What? I’m not enough for you?” Bucky suddenly appeared on your right, chuckling to himself as he released the empty magazine from his weapon and quickly replaced it with a new one. Blood was soaked into his hair line, mixing with the sweat beaded on his forehead, and he brushed the back of his hand against his face to smear it back into his hair.

“About time you showed up. Making me do all the hard work myself,” you scoffed, shooting him a teasing smile as you eyed the hallway he came rushing in from.

He insisted you’d be out in time for movie night back home if the two of you split up, divided the C4 amongst you and met back at the quinjet in twenty. Not even his super soldier instincts could have predicted this place would be overrun with stray Hydra agents looking for a rematch.

One of the agents opposing you whipped out a handgun and Bucky jumped forward, using his left arm as a shield. The bullets ricocheted across the room, puncturing into another Hydra agent who collapsed to the ground clutching his knee.

You exhaled a heavy breath, the edges of your lips dipping down into a frown as you watched more agents stepping over the bodies of their colleagues and advancing down the hallway. You glanced up at Bucky, watching as he weighed the rifle in his hands, bouncing it lightly. It was running low on ammo.

“You get anyone on coms yet?”

“Nothing. We’re on our own.” Bucky gritted his teeth, firing a few rounds down at the mass of Hydra agents swarming their way towards you. It knocked a few of them down, at least.

You started to take a few steps in their direction, yanking a knife from the spine of an agent on the ground before you whipped it down at the ones ahead of you, knocking another to the ground. The echo of gunfire tore through the cramped hall again and it left a pile of men at the front lines.

Four left.

“That was my last round,” Bucky grunted, tossing the weapon to the floor as he tugged a small blade from the holster on his thigh. He smirked as he glanced over at you through the corner of his eye. “Who do you want?”

You shrugged, studying the four agents who came to a slow halt at the opposite end of the hallway. The two on the left looked about as you’d expected from Hydra agents; tall, dark haired, with shoulders twice as wide as their hips and a vicious kind of look in their eyes. Then, a blonde-haired woman who couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from Bucky, a hand resting impatiently on the knife against her hip. Last, a man who towered at least two feet above the others with a long, jagged scar covering most of his face.

“I’ll take the two on the right.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, glancing between you and your chosen assailants. The taller one cracked his neck to the side and bared his teeth.

“You’re sure?”

You feigned offense; a hand pressed your heart as you took a few steps forward, sliding the batons out from the holsters along your shoulder blades and twirling them between your fingers. “You underestimate me, Barnes. You think I’d let you have all the fun?”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he jogged to catch up with you, disregarding the battle cries of the Hydra agents as they advanced as if it was only ever the two of you in the room. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.”

The blonde woman stared to advance on Bucky, eyes trailing him up from his boots to the top of his head with a devilish kind of look in her stare. She licked at her lips hungrily, as if she was ready to take a bite into him, though he paid her no mind as he rushed at the two men to her right.

“Hey, Barbie!” you called, waving a baton in the air to grab her attention. “Looks like your stuck with me.”

She glared at you, pausing in her strut for only a minute, but it was all you needed. You sprinted towards her, using the wall as leverage as you jumped up against the frame to propel yourself into her. Baton at ready, you slammed down into her collarbone as she let out a yelp and fell down to the ground. It didn’t take her long to get back on her feet and when she did, her knife was nestled tight into her grip, a new kind of intrigue on her face as she stared you down.

“Need any help over here?” Bucky called out from the end of the hallway as he ducked under the right hook of one of his assailants. He clipped one in the knees, sending them spiraling to the floor with a pained shout, before he smirked over in your direction.

“Mind your business, Barnes!” You rolled your eyes as a smile crept up against your lips.

Barbie took a single glance back at Bucky before her eyes returned to you and there was something darker within her stare you didn’t quite notice, or perhaps you simply mistook it for enemy territory. Either way, when she raised her arm with knife in hand, you whipped around the baton in a backhanded strike, sending the knife flying down the hall. Unarmed, she stared at you with wide, fearful eyes, until you knocked her out with a final hit to the side of her. Nothing fatal, but it would keep her under until backup arrived to hull her in.

Bucky was still fighting off his second attacker as you approached the man leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, patiently waiting. He pushed himself off the wall, cracked his knuckles between his palms with sharp snaps that echoed down into the hallway.

“Think you can take me, little girl?” he taunted, voice low and thick, like it had gone years in disuse. He made a show of the way he settled into his stance; fists held out in front of him, shadow boxing in an attempt to intimidate you. It seemed to catch him off guard when you rolled your eyes.

“It’s been a long day,” you shrugged, “and frankly, I’d like to go home. So, let’s make this quick.”

The arrogant smirk dropped from his face, replaced quickly with a wash of rage that a woman half his size would dare mock him in such a way. But he was clumsy in his stance and in his swings, so you saw each of his moves coming a mile ahead. With every right hook, you slid under his arm and stepped out behind him. In every jab, you side stepped out of reach. He exhausted himself while you made little effort in your defense. Without a single offensive throw, he was panting in a matter of minutes.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he bellowed, loud enough to make Bucky pause for a moment and you winced as his assailant took advantage of the moment to get in a punch to his jawline. He recovered quickly, giving you the security to face your own attacker head on. The Hydra giant was dripping in sweat, red in the face, teeth bared and near feral. “Fight me!”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

As he threw his next swing, you met it with the brunt of your baton, stilling him in his stance. He stared at you, wide eyes and jaw slacked, as you winked at him and dove under his legs. Before he could manage to turn around, you flicked at switch at the bottom of the batons which emitted an electrical pulse from the top edge and plunged it into the man's neck.

He convulsed, gargling out a few incoherent words, before he collapsed to the floor at your feet. You grinned, sliding the batons into the holsters at your shoulder blades.

“Alright, I take it all back,” Bucky’s voice chuckled from behind you. “You don’t need me at all.”

You laughed, shaking your head as several strands fell down into your face, lost to the bun at the top of your head in the struggle. As you turned to face Bucky, you found him standing with his hands planted on his hips and the brightest smile on his face, one that took him years to find again since you first met him and damn if it wasn’t one of the most beautiful sights you’d ever seen.

But then, there was a sudden rush of movement on the ground. One of the Hydra agents wrestled back up to his feet behind Bucky, a malice imbedded deep into his glare, a determination as he rushed forward.

There was little time to think as you lunged for the knife you broke free of the blonde agent’s hand and whipped it across the room. It plunged straight into the man’s jugular and he fell backwards, hands sliding out from around Bucky’s neck as blood coated the tile floors.

“Shit,” you panted, hands on your knees. “You okay?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

Slowly, heart pounding in your chest, you glanced up to find him pulling a syringe from his neck. He stared at it for a second, stunned as a few stray droplets dripped from the edge of the needle before he dropped it to the ground, letting it slip out from his fingers limply. The vile was empty as it rolled along the tile and settled against the dead body of its owner.

“Bucky?”

There was a sudden, paralyzing dread that swept over his features, one that seemed to worsen as his eyes fell upon yours. Then, his knees started to buckle, his stance falling unsteady and you rushed forward, darting under his arm to catch him before could lay amongst the bodies of Hydra agents. He was shaking, hands trembling, and you could feel the sharp rise and fall of his breath as you held him steady.

“We have to get you out of here,” you said, trying to push down the panic etching its way up your spine, but Bucky shook his head.

“No time.” It was all he could mutter out.

“Bucky, you've just been injected with God knows what and we need to get to you a medic or—”

“There,” he grunted, pointed to an open room at the end of the hallway. With a thick, metal door and dozen locks lining the outside, it was more of a cell than a room. You started to shake your head, but Bucky gripped tight to your arm. “Y/n, please.”

You watched him carefully, noticed how he couldn’t seem to meet your eye, how sweat was beading at his hairline more profusely than it was in the midst of a battle, how his breaths were broken and trembling on every exhale.

“Okay, okay. Hold on.” You slowly guided him to step over the bodies at your feet, most unconscious, others not as lucky, and swiftly led him into the cell. It seemed to put him at ease as you aided him to sit on one of the metal chairs at the center of the room. As you released your touch from his arm, a rush of what appeared to be pain twisted into his facial features though he tried to hide it.

“So, what do we do now?” you asked. “I could try to find the lab. They could have counteractants to whatever this is. Or I could try to fix the coms... but we all know Parker’s a lot better with that stuff than I am.”

You laughed, trying to ease the tension in the room, but it was so thick you could have cut through it with the blunt edge of your baton. Bucky’s eyes were glued to the floor, his hands curling around the undersides of the chair until the metal warped under his grip.

“You need to leave.”

Your smile dropped. “What? No, are you crazy? I’m not leaving you alone after—”

“Go!” His voice boomed against the walls and you tried not to let the shock startle you.

“Bucky, stop. That’s not happening.” You dug your fingers into your hips as you paced back over the door, stole a quick glance in both directions. It was still empty save for the bodies lying in your wake. It seemed you and Bucky were entirely alone. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We’ll figure something out, okay? We always do. This can’t be worse than the time we were buried in that old chevy under twelve feet of snow in Alaska last year, can it?”

You shot him a grin, hoping to ease him, though it did little use. His face was red, jaw stoned. He looked like he was barely breathing.

“You’re not hearing me,” Bucky groaned, his voice molding into something darker. “You're not safe here. You need to leave. Now. Before I... Before I can’t control this. Before I hurt you.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What are you talking about? Do you… Do you know what that stuff was?”

Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away from you the best he could. He let out a pained groan and kicked the chair out from under him. It slammed against the wall with a harsh clash and forced a skip in your heartbeat, a hand darting up to your chest. Bucky leaned over the table, trying to find support, but he ended up gripping onto the sides hard enough to dent imprints in the shape of his hands.

You rushed forward, desperate to help because you couldn’t stand to see him in so much pain, and placed a hand on his shoulder. It touched upon the thick straps of Kevlar for only a second, and still, it was enough to elicit a visceral reaction. He whined, something between a moan and cry, and he slumped down out of your reach.

“Don’t touch me,” Bucky warned, though his voice broke in the effort. His breaths were labored and heavy, and still it seemed as though he could barely get one in. “Please. You—You have to get away from me. I’m— I’m begging you.”

Bucky choked back a cry, biting down hard on his lower lip, and it was then you noticed his right hand palming at the hardened outline nestled tight against his thigh. He pressed the heel of his left into his eyes, shame burning hot against his ears and cheeks and trailing down in red patches along his neck. He tried to hide behind his hair, hide from you, but it was enough; you recognized what this was.

It was a serum created by Hydra in the seventies, meant to create inhumans of their own design when the clinical measures were proving unsuccessful. It was created to induce a euphoric state, a primal need beyond personal control, to put its host through hell until Hydra had what it wanted: a viable chance at an inhuman child.

“Bucky,” you called gently, though all you earned was a whimpered grunt in response. Slowly, you crossed the plane of the room to him and laid a hand against his collar. His eyes fluttered shut in response, his whole body keenly alert to every touch.

“You should leave,” he warned again, his gaze slowly drawing up to meet your own; a glossy shine shielded over a stunning ocean blue. “Let me... let me take care of this on my own. I’ll be f-fine.”

“It’ll be agonizing,” you told him, having remembered the speech Tony gave a few months back after the team first encountered the serum in Peru. “It won’t kill you, but it will feel pretty damn close. Nothing you do on your own will relieve it. It doesn't work like that. You need someone to help you through this.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t-- I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied gingerly, drawing your hand up along his arm, tracing over swells of muscle as watching the way a shiver followed so tenderly in your wave. You rested your hand along his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eyes. He was scorching hot. You smiled at him, something soft and gentle, something sad. “I’m offering, Bucky.”

“No,” he grunted out. “I—I can’t. I won’t.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall to the side. It was remarkable he was able to hold himself back this long, let alone decline an offer when presented to him. You’d heard the stories of men to devolved to a near primal state, who attempted to jump the first person they saw and fought their way to release. Bucky was determined to spare you, even as you offered, even knowing that turning you down would put him through a world of pain.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Tell me what you need. Tell me something I can do, Buck, because I can’t just watch you in pain like this.”

Bucky stared at you, pupils blown wide, almost as if he could see right through you.

“Need to get this off,” he finally admitted, eyes drifting down to his suit.

“Okay,” you replied steadily. “Do you want help?”

He shook his head, his stare glued to the floor, but you could see the way his hands were reaching out for you, how he had to keep himself in check and hold them firmly at his sides. He tried to unfasten the buckle at his chest himself, but within seconds he let out a hallowed cry, dropping his head in defeat.

“Hurts,” he exhaled, and slowly his eyes came back up to yours. He forced out a halfhearted smile the best he could. “Can you...?”

You returned the nervous smile, as you took a cautious step forward. He followed your every move as your hands extended towards his chest, fingers clipping the buckles easily as they unsnapped down his jacket. Each one left a new breath of relief in its wake, like he was just on the edge of the surface, under only a few inches of water.

Your hands slid under the seams, helping to slip the sleeve down his right arm, and Bucky choked back a moan. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parted just slightly, and you jumped back.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His cheeks were near on fire.

“It’s alright, Buck. It’s not your fault.” You reached out for him again. “Here, let me help with your belt.”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” His hands were shaking as he started to fidget with the buckle. He swayed on his feet, trying to find some relief. As he unfastened the latch and unbuttoned the hem of his pants, his eyes flashed up to you. He exhaled a heavy breath. “Can you... Christ... can you turn around?”

The look on his face, the shame radiating from every ounce of him, shattered you right to your core. You nodded quickly, turning your back to him and making your way to the door. He needed privacy – of course, he did. He didn’t need you around to bear witness to the consequences of Hydra’s newest attempt to leave him powerless and vulnerable.

But just as you approached the door, Bucky called out quietly, “don’t go.”

You stilled in an instant, though you didn’t dare to turn around.

“It, um,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I think it helps if you’re here. If that’s alright.”

“Need something to look at, huh?” you laughed, trying to make light of the impossible position he was in, and you were thankful for the short chuckle you heard behind you.

“Don’t flatter yourself, doll. You’re the only one here,” he replied, a teasing back in his tone, and no matter how tense it was or how forced it felt, it made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled, shaking your head. Leave it to the two of you to find the humor in a situation like this. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress the grin, though it did little use.

Then, you heard the soft fall of his shirt to the floor. Quickly followed by the pants of his suit, dropping to the ground in a heap. He exhaled a breath that sounded as though he hadn’t done so in years and you found yourself wondering what he looked like standing there behind you, naked and aching, harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“Swear you won’t tell Sam about this.”

You shook your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek to hold back another laugh. “No promises.”

“Y/n.”

“You’ve got to be in crippling pain, Buck. You don’t have time to be embarrassed right now,” you shot back teasingly. “Stop edging.”

“Fine, okay,” he grumbled back, though you could hear the light in his voice, even if it was a little tense. “Just… give me a second.”

The room became impossibly quiet, painfully so, and you waited under bated breath for something to happen. The smile slowly left your lips, fading into a restless frown as you listened intently to his labored breathing, the tight groans of pain, until finally, his hand circled around the base of his cock.

The whine that left his lips was near sinful, and you felt your own breath hitch in your chest as you listened to soft whimpers parting his lips as he stroked himself, covering his length in the precum dropping at his tip. Heavy breaths and wet pumps of his closed hand around his cock, and you clenched your thighs together, wondering how his eyes might travel over your frame.

But God – those sounds he made were beautiful. You could picture him tugging his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut, his shoulders slacking, knees falling a little weak the harder he gripped at himself. Little murmurs of ‘oh god,’ and ‘fuck yes,’ and ‘please’ as he fucked his fist.

You didn’t know how much time had passed by, but your lip was nearly chewed raw, nails indented into the palms of your hands. You could hear how close he was, how his movements picked up in pace, how his breaths labored, how his moans filled the room higher and higher until – it stopped.

Sudden and aching, he lost it before the fall and your heart broke as you heard him cry out in pain.

“Bucky?” you called softly, not daring to turn around to face him after he asked you not to. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hands clenched tight, and you swore your knees would buckle out from under you if you unlocked them for even a second.

“Fuck, I… I can’t...”

“Bucky, are you okay?” you tried again, worried. There was a panic in his voice that wasn’t there before, a desperate longing etched into every syllable, and it scared you.

“I can smell you,” he said simply, achingly.

Your breath hitched and you squeezed your legs together. There was a throbbing there, an emptiness you couldn’t quite shake. “Do you... Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he replied quickly and you could tell he was contemplating his options. He was growing desperate and that lingering sense of control he maintained was slipping through his fingers. “No, I— You were right. I can’t do it on my own. I need—fuck. I need…”

“Just ask,” you offered again, head tilting just enough to the side that he could see your face but you kept your stare to the wall. “I’m here. I’m saying yes. Just tell me what you need.”

“You.”

It surprised you as he said it; a little lower, a little darker, but certain.

Slowly, you turned to face him.

Sculpted by Michelangelo himself, Bucky carried the most beautiful lines across his body; divots along muscles and carvings of delicate design. You could tell he expected your eyes to fall straight to his shoulder, to the mess of scars and metal he loathed, or to the vulnerability standing hard in his grasp, but instead, you kept your gaze focused on his eyes.

Bucky stood completely naked before you, his right hand still pumping slowly around his cock as you edged forward. He watched you, biting at his lip as he flicked his thumb over his tip. Eyes trailed down over your frame greedily, hungrily, as if the act of simply looking was enough to draw a twitch from his cock. He tugged his lip between his teeth, tightening his grip around himself.

As you came up beside him, you reached up and sat your hand against his right shoulder, watching how he closed his eyes in response, how his jaw slacked. His lazy thrusts evened out, slowing down, as you traced your hand down his arm, simply lost in your touch. Your hand slid down his bicep, over raised muscle, along his forearm to his wrist, and then, you gently nudged his hand from his cock and replaced it with your own.

His lips fell open, a slight tremble in his breath as you gripped him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, leaning against you as he caged you to what appeared to be an interrogation table. You felt the warped metal against your thighs from where he’d clutched at it just moments earlier.

Steadily, you began to pump him in your hand, careful to spread the wet of his precum down his shaft. He was hard within your grasp, painfully so, enough that you could feel the crystal outline of a vein running up along the underside. You pressed your thumb against it as you slid your hand up to his tip and brushed it over his slit. The whine he released against your neck was the most beautiful sound you ever heard.

“This okay?”

“S’good.” He nodded meekly against your collar but you could feel the strain in his shoulders, the restraint that left his jaw wired shut and breaths tight.

“It’s not enough, though. Is it?” you asked gently, though you knew the answer. You knew what he needed and your hand, or even your mouth, would not be enough. The Hydra scientists knew what they were doing when they designed this. It had a very specific purpose and it would not yield for anything less.

“You don’t have to, Y/n,” he said, stronger than you’d heard his voice since he was injected. It took nearly all his strength.

You smiled, letting your free hand cup at the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, seeking more, almost instinctively. Bucky was a complicated man; capable of light-hearted jokes in the middle of a warzone and an immeasurable guilt and shame that had not left him in his years since he was freed from Hydra. He was your closest friend, your partner in the field, a man that you trusted above all others, a man you cared for in ways he would never quite understand.

“I’m here, Bucky. I’ve got you,” you whispered sweetly, but you could still feel his hesitance. “Listen to me, I’ll leave if you really want me to. I’ll stop if this isn’t what you want. But please, don’t send me away and leave you suffer through this alone because you think I don’t want you. I do, Buck. I want you. I want to make you feel good. I want to take away your pain. Let me.”

He stared at you for a moment, a strange mixture of disbelief and longing upon his features. Slowly his hands lifted from the table and felt for the clasp at the back of your suit. You nodded at him, and slid the zipper down your spine, exposing perfect, untouched skin. He pealed it down along your shoulders, over your chest and down your waist. You helped him remove it down to your feet and kicked it off to the floor beside his own.

His eyes drifted to your chest, hands itching to reach out, but he held them firm at his sides.

“It’s okay, Buck. You can touch me,” you told him, reaching behind your back and releasing the clasp of your bra. The straps fell down your shoulders and you let the fabric slip from you. Bucky swallowed, his eyes drifting to your exposed chest. A smile started to curve upon your lips the longer he stared at you, like you were something to revere.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured quietly, almost to himself, as if saying it purely for the state of fact.

Your heart skipped a beat, lips parting in a slight shock, and you wondered if this was what it was like for the women he brought home on cold, lonely nights from the bar. You’d seen the content smiles on their faces in the morning as they sauntered out of his room with messy hair and a blissful kind of look in their eyes.

Bucky wasn’t the cold, calculating man the papers made him out to be. He was kind, exceptionally sweet, and a selfless to a fault. You didn’t suspect he was any different in a bedroom.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I never thought this would be how—"

But then— his face started to contort and suddenly Bucky was keening over. He clutched at his stomach, digging his nails deep into the muscle and he nearly collapsed to his knees.

“Bucky!”

You grabbed a firm hold of his right arm, just enough to keep him steady, and even the smallest of touches alone seemed to ignite something in him. Goosebumps littered his skin and a sweet kind of whine escaped past his lips as you ran a hand soothingly along his spine.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time,” you warned gently. It was a miracle within itself he was still on his feet. This serum had put ordinary men into shock within minutes if they didn’t find release. Never enough to kill them, but just enough to make them wish it would.

Bucky followed you back to the table at the center of the room, his hand clasped tightly in your own. It was the most physical affection you’d shown for one another, a tenderness outside of the rush of foreign chemicals in his veins, and you tried not to think about the fallout you were bound to find after.

He helped to guide you onto the table, resting your back against the cool, metal surface. Then, slowly, he crawled on top of you. His eyes drifted down to your panties and you lifted your hips for him, giving him the permission he needed to pull them down your legs.

His hand slid down along your curves, drawing goosebumps in his wake, until he swiftly slid his fingers between your thighs. Dipping into the wetness at your core, he spread his fingers around, lubricating himself until he slid two easily inside of you.

“Oh, Bucky,” you moaned, back arching as he pumped them against your walls. “God, that feels—so good.”

His left hand was curled tightly into a fist near you head as he propped his body weight up against the arm; gears whirring, the scars at the base of his shoulder red in the strain of it. One quick glance at the tension coating his muscles, the sharp breaths in his chest, the whine as his cock touched your thigh, and you were pulled swiftly from the clouds, a startling reminder why you were doing this in the first place.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you told him, a little breathless as he added the third finger. “I’m fine, Buck. You need to come. This isn’t about me.”

He shook his head, determined. “You’re not ready yet.”

You chuckled, a heat of embarrassment washing over you, even as he scissored his fingers, stretching your walls. You had to choke back a moan and the urge to clamp your thighs together around his wrist.

“I’m more than ready,” you said, voice a little higher, hands clenching at the sides of the table as you felt your walls tightening around his fingers. “Trust me, Buck. Just listening to you touch yourself was enough.”

You laughed again but the room was thick in tension, almost unbearably so. Bucky could hardly hear you. His hair had fallen down to shield his face, his gaze focused on where his fingers were lost to the most intimate parts of you; determined.

“It has to be good for you,” he muttered out slowly. You narrowed your eyes on him, growing worried as he seemed to retreat within himself. He was distant, his mind far away from his body. “It has to be good… it has to be good for you otherwise… otherwise I’m… I’m...”

He wouldn’t say it but you knew what he meant.

“Bucky, come back to me.” You reach up and grabbed a firm hold of his cheeks, thumbs at his jawline, and drew his attention to your eyes. It took him a moment to get there, but you found ocean blue again, even if it was clouded in dark, stormy skies. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about how I feel, alright? Just do what you need to, I’ll be fi—”

“I won’t use you like that!” Bucky snapped defiantly, startling you. “I don’t care that it feels like my skin is on fire and there’s knives carving through my body. I don’t care that I feel like I’m going to pass out and everything in me is fighting to force my way onto you and take what I want regardless of what it does to you! I don’t care! You’re my best friend and I… I…” He was panting, red in the face, and he couldn’t seem to find his words. He swallowed, though it looked as though it burned. “It has to be good for you, okay?”

You nodded, running your hands gently along his arms; his left, solid metal, unwavering, and his right trembled deep within the tissue – the gentle movements of his forearm pressed up against your stomach, his fingers searching out a pleasure he so desperately needed you to feel.

“I…” he started before he clenched his jaw. A heavy exhale followed, a drop of his gaze, and he muttered out weakly, “I need to pretend this is real.”

Your lips parted in shock; heart stammering so painful in your chest you wondered if he could hear it. Before you could say anything, before you could ask him what he meant by that, Bucky let his fingers slip out from between your legs, resting slicked against your thigh. The emptiness was startling.

“I think you’re ready for me now.”

Bucky nestled himself between your legs, lined his length your entrance with a gentle sweep of his top through your folds. He shivered, something near violent as it shook through his spine, and you were reminded again that Bucky was suffering, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins that ripped away his control and left him powerless to Hydra.

His skin was flushed red, sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck. There were sharp marks in the palm of his right hand where he dug his own nails into his skin. His breaths were coming in quickly and uneven.

“Look at me,” you ordered, stern enough to draw his attention. “Don’t hold back. You need to get this out, okay? I will tell you if it’s too much.”

It took him a moment, a breath of contemplation, before he nodded; slow and hesitant. You could see the strain in his jawline, the tension in his shoulders from how much he was restraining himself. It must have been agonizing, but Bucky had been through worse in his life. You supposed pain had become a familiar friend, one he learned to tame and control, even when it ripped him apart.

The moment he pressed his tip past your entrance, as he bottomed out in one thrust, as he felt your walls squeeze tightly around him for the first time, Bucky nearly came on the spot. He gasped into your shoulder, sucking marks against your skin as he rolled his hips against you. Slow and steady at first, reveling in the feel of being consumed whole, of being taken so well, of a rush of endorphins and pleasure he’d never felt even in the peak of sex. Everything was heightened, every touch was immaculate; he could feel your heartbeat through the walls squeezing at his cock.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he moaned against your ear, breath hot, voice dangerously low. “Fuck you feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good. Goddamn perfect.”

You nodded, arms circling up around his shoulders as you rolled your hips to meet his own. You could still feel the stone carved tension in his muscle, how much he was holding back from what he needed. He was trying to be gentle with you, loving in a way the serum was not designed for, but it was testing him. He wouldn’t give into it, not in the way you asked him to, because Bucky had already lost so much to Hydra, already lost pieces of his mind and body, he would not let them take his soul, too.

“Just for you.” The words passed through your lips before you could quite catch onto their meaning. Your hands slipped down his chest as you brushed your thumbs against his nipples. He moaned, hips picking up in pace. He needed the encouragement, you realized. It was the only way he’d allow himself the release he needed to free his body of that serum.

He needed to pretend it was real.

He needed to pretend that you weren’t laying upon a cold, unforgiving table in an old Hydra base, that maybe this was something more than the consequences of a vile he didn’t ask for.

The line between the fantasy and reality was painfully thin.

“F-fuck, you’re so tight,” he mumbled breathily. The table began to squeak with every snap of his hips, with every drag of his cock at your core, the brush of his tip to the sweetest spot. It was easy to lose yourself in him, to forget that you were in an abandoned Hydra cell, that he had a foreign chemical in his veins determined to destroy him. He felt like heaven.

“S’all yours,” you whispered, drawing your hands down along his waist, slipping over his hips and gripping into the soft flesh of his ass. You pulled him deeper into you, daring him to go further. His pupils were blown so wide, you could barely see the blue in his eyes. He was slipping, barely holding into the restraint he so desperately clung to, and you rolled your hips at just the right angle, squeezed him enough to draw a mangled cry from his lips.

You kissed at the dip of his collar, sucking sweetly as he all but purred in response. Your lips mapped a path up his neck, along his jaw line, over cheekbones and at the tip of his nose, until you paused at his mouth. His heart was pounding, thunderous in his chest, and his hips seemed to pick up in pace with every kiss.

It wasn’t until you captured his lips against your own that Bucky lost the last ounce of control he had been clinging onto.

Something like a growl purred against your lips, a sound near feral, and the gentle push of his hips like ocean waves against you turned into quick, harsh snaps. He pulled his lips from you, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, until he found the place he was looking for and sunk his teeth to the crook of your shoulder.

“Ah, Bucky!”

All consuming. Feverish. A man untamed and he did not relent, not as your walls tightened around him like the twist of a coil, or as the sound of skin and wetness between your legs echoed high into the room, or when his fingers touched at your clit and rubbed harsh, quick and pressured circles until you were crying out so loudly, it must have carried through the whole base.

“Fuck! Ah, God, Bucky, don’t stop!”

Bucky groaned against you, sucking a mark where his teeth had met your flesh. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, the pulse of his cock in your cunt, the thick vein that ran along his underside as it added so sweetly to the pressure at your entrance. It was wild and unhinged, but God – it was good.

“Y-yeah, baby, right there,” Bucky moaned, his thrusts falling uneven, haphazard, needy. “F-fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—ah, ah, f-fuck—”

The heat of him, the way he filled you so perfectly, the rush, and it pushed you over the edge. White hot and intoxicating, the wash of it broke open in floodgates and swept through you. His fingers did not let up on your clit as you squirmed and withered below him, his thrusts falling lazy as he chased the end of his release.

Breathless and a little dizzy as you came down from your high, you felt his heartbeat inside of you; quick, but even. The serum had done its work. It released him from its hold.

Bucky was panting, the full of his weight having fallen onto you. His hair was wet with sweat, messy and untamed, and the room smelled distinctly of sex. But more than that, it was unbearably silent.

Slowly, Bucky began to pry himself off of you, allowing his softened cock to slip from between your legs, slick and satisfied. He swallowed, a blush creeping onto his cheek as he pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You chuckled, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him quickly tug his pants back on before he bent down and picked up your suit for you, handing it gingerly to you upon the table with a shy sort of smile.

“Alright? I’m great.” You grinned over at him, glowing in the aftermath of your release. “You feel okay now?”

He nodded, a nervous smile tugging on his lips as he watched you jump down from the table and step into your suit. His eyes must have lingered on your thighs where his cum was still slick along the skin from his release because his smile began to fall, his jaw tightly clenched.

“SHEILD has me on birth control, Buck. Don’t worry about that,” you told him softly. You tugged the sleeves back up your arms, though it proved difficult with the lingering sweat on your skin. You flipped your hair over your shoulder and turned your back to him. “Do you mind?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling forward to zip up the back of your suit. He brushed a few stray strands of hair over your shoulder, the gentle sweep of cool metal a relief against the hot flush of your skin; impossibly tender for a man capable of the things he was.

“So,” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice as he grasped hold of the zipper, “should we talk about this or—”

“Bucky? Y/n? You guys read me?”

Steve.

“Seems the coms are back on,” you sighed, stepping to the side after Bucky finished zipping your suit. He was still holding his tactical vest in his hand, along with the one-armed jacket. His hair was untamed, cheeks flushed, and you imagined you looked of the same.

“We got you, Steve,” Bucky replied, though it seemed rather reluctant. “Where you been, man? You dropped us in a warzone.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Steve grumbled back. “Get to the jet. We’ll debrief on the way back. Don’t forget to rig the place to blow on your way out.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, grinning at Bucky as he slipped his jacket on. “Certainly, can’t forget the one thing you sent us here to do.”

“Unless you’ve got more Hydra agents hiding in the wings?” Bucky added on and you could practically see Steve deadpan from the cockpit.

“Just get out of there before I come get you myself.”

You laughed as you slid the batons back into the holsters at your shoulder blades.

It was strange, how quickly it felt as if nothing had changed at all. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was a quick release and you were simply helping a friend. Maybe it was something neither of you would speak of again and you’d go right back to being partners, friends, as if it never happened.

But as you turned around at the edge of the room, a smile wide upon your face, you found Bucky watching you with a kind of look in his eye you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t one you recognized, wasn’t one you’d seen in him before. It was something new.

His eyes flickered to your collarbone where a mark upon your skin was growing discolored; bite marks and bruising where his mouth had been. A strange mixture of remorse and longing, affection and need, all rolled into one.

“You ready, Buck?”

He nodded quickly, snapping himself from his gaze with a pressed smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he tried. He met you at the edge of the room, trailing a few steps behind you, and you turned around to find him staring back into the cell, like he was trying to preserve a memory of some kind.

You realized as you watched Bucky clear his throat awkwardly, turning back to you with a gentle blush of pink in his cheeks, that there was no pretending you hadn’t crossed a line together. There was no going back.

---

part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes X you #bucky x reader #sex pollen #bucky barnes smut #tw dubcon

13K notes · View notes

bubbledumbbinch · 4 years ago

Note

Okay so can I ask for some general headcanons for a Fem!MC in twst? The game has gender-neutral pronouns for the MC so far and it's an all boys school. How do you think the characters reaction/interactions would change if the MC was female? (if all are too much you can just pick your faves, maybe just include the octa and Savannahclaw dorm?) Just your thoughts and some brainrot💖

I think the boys would definitely be a lot more flirtatious to fem!MC!!! (I just wanna call her FeMC so I could say… fem… with a c at the end LOL). This is an all boys school, what do you expect?!

These are mostly short I’m sorry! I wanted to try to fit everyone in!

Ramshackle

Grim would lay at night curled up beside you. On days when your period hit, Grim would sense you in pain and get near your abdomen and purr. He feels like it’s an instinctual thing to do and if if helps out his minion, he’ll do it! Plus there’s tuna in it for him, right? Pet his ears too!

Heartslabyul

Riddle would definitely blush when you are around, but not too heavily! Sure he finds you attractive but it won’t stop him from fulfilling his duties as a dorm leader! He can’t help himself when he gets flustered talking to you since the only woman he grew up around was his strict mother. Since you’re different compared to her, he can’t tell but feel warmth from you which he wants to keep in his heart.

Ace and Deuce would make jokes at each other’s expense, both of them sorta going neck and neck trying to compete for your attention! They know you guys are just friends… unless..? 😳 Ace would make the snarky remarks while Deuce would threaten to beat Ace up.

Trey would act the same towards you, knowing he has to be a respectful upperclassman! You ALMOST can’t tell he sets aside the cupcake with more fruits or decoration on it for you at the Unbirthday party. Trey would give his signature smirk and wink as he sets it down in front of you.

Cater would take you on shopping sprees and outings to have so many photo opportunities with NRC’s only female student! Girls would flood his comments asking if you were his girlfriend, but he never answered. He secretly hopes you like him back so you could do cute couple things together like match outfits!

Savannaclaw

Leona would still call you herbivore and treat you the same as always. Still as lazy as before. However he can’t help but show off when he plays Magift and you happen to be watching. He lowkey stares at your features and shape of your body when you’re not looking 👀

Ruggie would also mostly act the same towards you, but he would bump into you on purpose so he can have an excuse to touch or smell you! His body tingles when he can smell your scent on the blazer he accidentally knocked into you with! Still treats you the same as ever though!

Jack would be gentler towards you, he knows how rough and big his body is, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you! His personality is still the same, don’t think he’ll treat you any differently because you’re a girl!

Octavinelle

Azul would try to make shady deals with you to offer you protection against students who may be too forward with you since you’re a girl. In exchange? For you to work at the lounge! and spend time with him. He secretly likes you but would never tell you to uphold his reputation and he is also afraid of rejection ;w; Azul would also not mind seeing you wearing the lounge uniform, fufufu…

Jade would would act more like a butler type! You also find him nearby sometimes, feeling his striking gaze looking at you. He’s always there when someone is trying to confess to you and you look uncomfortable. “Oya oya, do you need some help, miss?” His voice teasingly echoes through the halls, scaring off the guy who was trying to hit on you. Jade would stretch out his hand and escort you to wherever you needed to go.

Honestly? Unless you had a super “girly” appearance, Floyd wouldn’t have noticed until he gave you a hug to squeeze you, noticing your body was different… more squishy... and your bone structure is different. Shrimpy is so squeezable!!! Huh? He has to be wary of your chest? He’ll just lift you up by your tummy! You being a girl doesn’t stop the hug train!

Scarabia

Kalim wouldn’t treat you any differently! He would still definitely invite you over as often as possible, not realizing his sweetness may come off as flirtatious! Might develop a small crush on you :) imagines all the pretty outfits he could buy you from his homeland

Jamil would at first be wary of you but once he realizes you aren’t a threat to Kalim or the school, he stops doubting you. Definitely isn’t the type to judge you differently based on your gender!

Pomefiore

Vil would smirk and think he finally has someone else to practice makeup on! He definitely uses you as a model to show off his products, whether it be makeup, skincare, clothing, etc!

Rook would be… protective. He likes you because you’re different, and he would subtly follow and stake you out to see what things you’re doing differently at NRC as a girl. Rook offers silent protection against those he sees as a threat to you before you can even notice.

Epel would definitely try to prove his manliness in front of you if Vil isn’t in the vicinity! Going out of his way to carry heavy items, be tough, etc. If YOU tell him he’s manly, it’s certainly gotta mean something right?!

Ignihyde

Idia thinks it’s like some sort of anime trope, you’re the female protagonist and it’s like a reverse harem because the whole school is full of boys! Cough cough breaking the fourth wall here! He would probably be more… nervous around you, not like he would ever get close anyways, but still! The idea of the only girl at school actually being friends with you and maybe becoming more makes his heart beat faster.

Ortho would not. Perceive you any differently LOL. He’d be intrigued would say like “A girl? Cool! The body analyses I’ve done from everyone around you reads their body temperatures higher and their hearts are all beating faste- MMPH!” He would be silenced by ADeuce…

Diasomnia

Malleus…. Once he knows how you don’t fear him and how you like him even without knowing who he is. All he can think of is how beautiful you would be as his queen. Who can blame him? He has priorities and he needs to think of these things! I can also imagine him picking petals off flowers and saying “She loves me… she loves me not…” because he’s romantic like that… my heart

Lilia would use his experience in his vast years of dating to his advantage, knowing what ways to talk to a woman best. He swears he is only flirting with you for fun! The way your cheeks puff up in embarrassment is just too cute to resist! He certainly doesn’t mind a gender neutral MC, but Lilia can appreciate the beauty in every gender and he certainly appreciates your beauty!

Silver said 😪😴 . You notice Silver has more of a knightly approach to you, offering to protect you when you need it. He understands how a situation between one girl and hundreds of male students could provide a sense of fear, so Silver would always be there to protect you if you need!

Sebek would blush when you’re around, but he thinks you’re trying to use feminine charm and wiles to seduce the young master, even though all you did was make a yawn noise, flip your hair, or put on a bit of makeup! You have to explain to him that you aren’t doing anything to try to seduce anybody. You just wanted to go to school. He is doubtful but finally agrees. Maybe he was becoming victim to your charm instead?

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst imagines #twst headcanons #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignyhide #diasomnia #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #twst grim

3K notes · View notes

shakinblindandhazy · 2 years ago

Text

Given that Enola Holmes takes so many things from history, like the Suffragette Movement or the Matchgirl's Strike, I am totally on board with the fact they made Moriarty a woman. And I want to rant about it.

Given that in most Sherlock adaptations Moriarty serves as the intellectual equal and antithesis to Sherlock - we can assume Mira Troy rivals Enola's and Sherlock's intelligence despite her brief appearances. (Plus, the entire scheme she had going on during the film makes this clear anyway.)

However, It's made clear from the start that she is looked down upon and underappreciated despite this brilliant intelligence. So, as the viewer, we already start creating an idea of her motives in our head without having any idea of her true identity yet.

I feel that the juxtaposition to Moriarty would actually be Eudoria rather than Enola or Sherlock. Yes, of course you have the typical detective(s) vs criminal mastermind but you also have a woman who is campainging for womans rights and is a leader within that movement vs the woman who has been scorned by society and has grown bitter because of it.

Moriarty has seen time and time again that in Victorian London, so many women are refused opportunities and recognition (including herself) simply because they are women, despite their skills or achievements.

As Mira Troy says, "I am a woman. I cannot join clubs. I cannot own shares. I cannot advance myself as they can. So I found my own way."

In order to advance her position, she found herself using her intelligence and wits somewhere it would be more appreciated - crime.

Sherlock's assumption that he was fighting against a "he" is already telling enough when it comes to what people expect of men vs women in Victorian Society. But, if anything, Mira can use this to her advantage in the crime world since people would be thrown off her scent simply because she is a woman.

Furthermore, it is likely that she found the crimes she committed "fun" because she didn't have to act as a woman, happy to be walked over and sticking to the sidelines. She was simply "Moriarty" - the antithesis to our progatonists in the story. She can commit crimes and plot schemes without having to be a woman, and just simply be a force to be reckoned with, despite being of the "fairer" gender.

Enough of my incoherent rambling. The end point that I'm trying to get to is that I love the fact Moriarty is a woman because she has clear cut motives. She has a right to be angry at the world and do the things that she does. In a way, she is also shedding light to women's issues during the time in her own... immoral... ways.

With any Sherlock adaptation, it would be easy to turn Moriarty into a ruthless criminal mastermind with no clear motive other than antagonising Sherlock. However, Enola Holmes didn't do this and instead took the Moriarty character and transformed it into something new.

This whole rant happened all because Moriarty (in any adaptation) is one of my favourite fictional characters and I love it when writers create a new side to the character. So, thank you Enola Holmes for adding more depth to one of my favourite characters in a way I wasn't expecting!!

Plus I can get behind the intelligent female character trope very easily hehe. >:)

#moriarty is a girlboss #mira troy #enola holmes 2 spoilers #enola holmes 2 #spoilers #enola holmes #enola 2 #moriarty

91 notes · View notes

sepublic · 4 years ago

Text

Meta Marcy Wu

Marcy really does have that energy of like. Someone who doesn’t have a whole lot of ‘opinions’ on bigger matters (such as the conflict between Toads and Newts, Sasha and Anne, Maddie and her sisters, etc.) so she just sort of. Awkwardly waits and sits off to the side, kind of biding her moment for when it’s finally over. Letting others take charge so long as she gets her own little space to function in. She’s not against or for anyone in particular, she just needs people to decide for themselves who she should follow, Marcy prefers to be a follower and ONLY that- Her debut has her asserting her own control for herself, but she doesn’t seem to care much else about others, I’m afraid.

Contrast that with Anne, who needs her own control- BUT she also has the Heart, so she cares about others, she’s proactive and has agency despite initially being told to be reactive and not stand up for herself. Even if she can’t stand up for herself, she will stand up for others… And I think she was lowkey influenced by Sasha’s obsessive desire to protect the girls, and that played into Anne being a little bit toxic, but ultimately learning and having that inner fire to take a stance on things based on moral reasons, whereas Sasha seems more concerned for power than the actual social plight of the Toads- So even if Anne isn’t with the rebellion, it’s ultimately something she WOULD fully dedicate herself towards, like when we saw her stand up for the Frogs against Bog and the other Toads.

And like, I have to wonder if Marcy’s more hands-off, simple follower approach is lowkey what contributed to Sasha’s belief in controlling others, because it validated that- But at the same time, we talk about how Sasha might care more for Anne than Marcy, and we see how Sasha is frustrated by Toadie, who is but an echo chamber for her. So maybe while Marcy is convenient to her, she’s just a bit too passive and thus not as ‘fun’ as a friend as Anne, who is also a concern because she has genuine motive to question Sasha not just on the basis of their friendship, but people OUTSIDE of it, which Marcy doesn’t.

Anne being fiercely loyal and protective and sticking up for others, it also could’ve fed back into Sasha’s own tendencies as well. And of course these more proactive, in-your-face girls, always on the frontlines, are going to clash, while Marcy the forgotten follower, the wall-flower, the one in the background focused on more ‘nerdy’ things that are less glamorous, like logistics and whatnot… SHE’s the lynchpin that actually tips the scales- Because she’s the third girl who ‘sides’ with Anne between the initial conflict from Season 1. She’s the one with Andrias, flipping things up when Anne and Sasha are going to fight, contributing to that prophesized endgame.

Marcy is the one, ironically, with the power –albeit as an extension of Andrias really- and so she’s the antagonist who’s clashing with Sasha, who is also power-hungry, but really beginning to learn as well. Marcy is caught up in her own little fantasy land and world, both literally and figuratively, happily enjoying and watching as a witness and bystander, almost detached in a sense to really participate and appreciate it as a very real thing… And being separate and an ‘audience’ member, Marcy is of course forgotten by Sasha and Anne, who play the part of characters; Fitting, because in that one flashback, they were Captain Hook and Peter Pan, while Marcy worked back-stage, literally pulling the strings (well, rope) for Anne!

It’s Marcy who’s obsessed and fascinated with the meta of fandom and fiction, so of course she’s the one who steps back and observes it like media, takes the time to comment on it as if it were all tropes, watching and enjoying while for Sasha and Anne they participate directly without that kind of detached meta awareness, the kind someone like Andrias would have, because for THEM it’s real, there are stakes, power for Sasha and people for Anne! And Marcy is the backstage audience, fourth-wall crewmember, unnoticed by all who forget and ignore her, and she’s used to it. Maybe Marcy even enjoys and prefers it that way, and/or learned to- And it’s too late to pay attention, to see themselves as characters in that wider play and story and plot, unlike Andrias who notices and takes advantage… And may have been writing since who knows HOW early?

If I could get into meta, Marcy playing that quiet, unnoticed support role, doing whatever’s convenient- It reminds me of how the visual basis for your typical Ninja in black garb… It came from plays where performers in black garb would maneuver props, and the audience was supposed to intentionally ignore them, see them as separate from the actual story; But every now and then, one play might have a ‘twist’ where that background actor actually IS a character, and assassinates someone to reveal themselves as the hidden Ninja!

So maybe Marcy is like that… The background crewmember, not calling attention to herself in the acting role- In plain sight but we figure we’re meant to ignore, and so we’re utterly blindsided when she DOES strike! It’s Marcy who appreciates the little technical know-how and details, valuing the role that Frogs and agriculture play, considering Newtopian infrastructure, working back-stage in a Peter Pan play… Appreciating the writing conventions and tropes of her favorite games and fantasies, and so that in a way enables her to ‘game’ the system in a sense, play into it with her own hands, or even set up that game and story in the first place, because she knows how to make one!

She is the drummer while Anne and Sasha play guitar and sing, not as glamorous or recognized amongst a crowd, but just as vital as the rest… She’s a very META kind of person, befitting her choice of METAmorphosis as part of her drummer costume! You don’t pay mind to a caterpillar, but then little do you know, it becomes an even more unnoticeable cocoon… Only to sprout into a brilliant butterfly! But while the BLUE butterfly is associated with Anne and her connections back home through Pearl Paddock, who is representative of familial bond, remembering who you are… Marcy is disconnected, she’s a GREEN butterfly, green like the lilypads of Amphibia, and she wants to stay there!

And the best part, I think? I don’t think Marcy herself is even fully aware of what she’s doing… I doubt she sees herself as some clever manipulator. She’s just doing what she can, having her fun plans and machinations like in New Wartwood, but she’s not ACTUALLY approaching this as some devious mastermind- She’s literally just a kid! She gets caught up in her own things, because she is an autistic mood, and I get that! I resonate with that! And so it’s so easy for Marcy to be blindsided by HERSELF, by her own flaws and borderline antagonistic role in the story, to realize what she’s doing is kind of messed up and trivializing- Because we know that she WANTS to care, but it’s so easy and convenient for her to forget and play into the fantasy�� Especially with someone like Sasha, and especially Andrias, to enable her, to provide that safety and support net that MARCY doesn’t complain about or take for granted, unlike that ‘ungrateful’ Anne, as Sasha might’ve one said!

And if Marcy isn’t really self-aware of her own issues or even the full messed-up scope of her actions, to take a look back and critically examine herself the way she might a character or even her own friends; Then that can also make her a victim to her own antics, just as Sasha kept burying herself into a deeper hole. And it’s hard to do the right thing, if you don’t even realize you’re messing up in the first place- Recognizing your fault is kind of one of THE foundations of actual reform, growth, and redemption. I think Marcy needs guidance, and she needs to show more initiative and take a stance not just for herself, but regarding others as well… And that can lead to her choosing between Anne and Andrias.

Andrias, whose name is like Anne’s but more fantastical, who is blue like Anne’s motif… And who looks after her like a good friend, makes things easier and promises they will be! And he’s invested into the fantasy, he doesn’t want to go home and complicate things, get into fights with Sasha, because it’s the person in charge who decides how it is, right? Which is why True Colors continues to concern me… Amidst, you know, the many OTHER issues as well.

#amphibia #amphibia marcy #marcy wu #amphibia sasha #sasha waybright #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #meta #speculation #character analysis

100 notes · View notes

miss-kittyy · 3 years ago

Note

🌌 for the ask game?

🌌Twilight - Favourite ship and least favourite ship

I can’t choose just one so I’ll do top three in no particular order

Fernsong x Ivypool: this ship is the one thing standing between Warriors and complete misogyny (/hj). All their canon interactions are 10/10 Fernsong sees the best in Ivypool and rlly admires her and its clear that Ivypool rlly loves being around him even if she’s too prickly to admit it. But I also headcanon Fernsong as autistic, he prefers doing jobs in camp like helping the medicine cats and queens rather than hunting or fighting cause he finds it confusing and/or over stimulating while Ivypool I headcanon as having PTSD so she likes to patrol and hunt but can’t a lot of the time because she gets distressed and paranoid, so Fernsong accompanies her while she does her duties and does grounding exercises with her if needed, so they’re a rlly good team!! I also think Fernsong’s relationship with Lionblaze has a lot of potential regarding his relationship since I can’t imagine Ivypool likes Lionblaze very much given that he was totally on board with keeping her in an abusive situation as a child for the greater good even though he could’ve done it himself because he is literally invisible and defeating the dark forest is the reason why he had super powers in the first place. (Sorry Lionblaze lowkey pisses me off)

Feathertail x Sasha: read A Shadow in Riverclan and look me in the eyes and tell me they were not girlfriends. I love the trope of two individually troubled people finding eachother and loving eachother despite their pain so much and I think they could’ve worked things out if Feathertail didn’t die, she forgave Leapordstar she def would’ve forgave Sasha, also I understand why she was mad at her, even though it wasn’t justified I think it makes sense given Feathertail’s mental state. I also rlly like how you can actually see how their relationship developes, it’s not instant and you can understand WHY they like each other so much. I wish Feathertail hadn’t died, I wouldve traded Brambleclaw POV for Feathertail POV in a HEARTBEAT. I think Sasha might have stayed if Feathertail was still in Riverclan when she returned, after understanding her trauma more I def think Feathertail would have forgave and apologizing to Sasha. Seeing Sasha and Feathertail’s interact with Hawkfrost would have also been very interesting and could have fleshed him out more.

Grasspelt x Briarlight: I got another AU coming up that has to do with them, so I wont give to much away but I love the idea that indivually Grasspelt and Briarlight are both very smart and admirable cats but then when they get within 5 feet of eachother they both become goofy mushy idiots. I know Grasspelt is like a very minor side character so I’ve just given him a personality myself but just let me have this ok I am tired. They’d also make great parents!! I headcanon Grasspelt as autistic and I like to think he infodumps about how incredible Briarlight is- he is completely and unapoligetically in love with her and she thinks he’s a wonderful cat he lights up her life.

Least favourites:

Im not gonna include any of the obvouisly bad ships like firetiger or other shit like that, just assume all the pedophelic and abusive ships are also my least favourite, ok?

Daisy x Spiderleg: why did they feel the need to do Daisy like this?? What was the point??? I get that those types of relationships happen I’ll but I don’t see why you’d include it in the book if it wasn’t going to have any type of meaning beyond Leafpool being mad at Spiderleg. They could have still had that happen and then had Daisy get a mate that treats her right, I just feel bad at her.

Bumblestripe x Dovewing: Bumblestripe is such a pick me and their relationship reminds me a lot of a past friendship of mine that did not end well. Dovewing deserves better Bumblestripe is manipulative as hell and I feel like he takes advantage of Dovewing’s kind nature. I am so glad she left his pathetic ass, I rlly hope he doesn’t get a mate in the future and I am convinced Rosepeta’s crush on him was comp-het or something cause she must have some taste. I understand why Ivypool was for Bumblestripe and Dovewing’s relationship, she was still totally in the wrong and doesn’t deserve to be completely excused but it makes sense given her character, she’s been denied any agency for a rlly long time, Hawkfrost was her best friend and he treated her just as shitty as Bumblestripe treated Dovewing- so she’s less likely to see the red flags as they’ve been normalized to her. Everyone else though?? I have no idea why they told Dovewing to get with Bumblestripe he literally sucks so much. I think it should have just been Ivypool who said that cause it makes me dislike everyone else lmao.

Blossomfall x Ivypool: Blossomfall is mean to her as an apprentice and compares her to Dovepaw which fuels Ivypaw and Dovepaw’s unhealthy relationship, and then the only reason why they become friends is that Blossomfall gets sympathy from Ivypool and that strikes me as p toxic and unhealthy, obv if someone were to make an AU or headcanon where their relationship plays out differently than that’d be totally fine but in canon I just can’t see them doing anything but dragging eachother down- also Blossomfall is mean to Dovewing and Ivypool and Dovewing’s relationship is already strained as hell that would be very counterproductive.

#CW: emotional abuse

26 notes · View notes

rueitae · 4 years ago

Text

Writing Roundup 2020

This is a writing reflection I’ve been doing for myself every year for the last four years. Its a positive boost to myself see how far I’ve come and look back on my progress for the past year and look forward to the new year.

Everyone is welcome to use this same format if they’d like to do the same!

~~~~~~~

Stats:

Words written:

330,000, which is nearly half of all the words I’ve written on Ao3 in the last three years.

One Shots Posted (all fics plance unless otherwise stated):

In the Arms of the Ever(pink?) Tree (4463 words)

For the Plance Secret Santa exchange. Post s8 date/not date on a snowy moon. Love confession.

Birthday Treats (2129 words)

For Pidge’s birthday this year! Domestic family fluff, breakfast in bed, plance kids.

Begin Again (Together) (4805 words)

Canon divergence from before episode one! Pidge and Lance are established dating when alien intervention brings them to where they are supposed to be: with the Blue Lion. Just a brief look into what the AU would look like.

Common Ground (4521 words)

A treat for my friends who introduced me to Magic Knight Rayearth and pointed out some fun character parallels. There is this beautiful art Arya made to go with it because we’re all trash for both series. Plance meet up with Fuu and Ferio post series for both couples.

Bonded To You (1808 words)

For the Langstron Halloween Exchange! Established plance with a baby Lance is trying to keep safe from a witch who would take advantage of the child’s heritage.

It Tasted Good (6785 words)

Pikelavar for Pikelavar Month! The premise is crack, but it's mostly treated seriously. Pike ate the Jewel of Jitan by accident and doesn’t realize it until Haggar finds them. Meklavar gets Protective.

The Remainder of Days (3188 words)

Part of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. Fantasy AU where Pidge is a minor forest goddess and Lance is her neighbor mortal farmer.

I Love You a Lily More Each Day (3232 words)

Another of the Bad Things Happen Bingo. Canon compliant where Lance is undercover at a flower shop and knee deep in an illegal smuggling operation.

Lease on Life (4978 words)

This one was also part of Bad Things Happen Bingo and was an experiment. It’s POV of an oldest plance kid, canon verse. Her parents’ Paladin days come back to haunt them one night. Some cute family stuff too in there.

Ready to Dance (4135 words)

For the Valentine’s Day exchange! Post series. Lance tries to get back into the party scene and Pidge rescues him from a disastrous night.

Loopholes (5476 words)

Technically I didn’t write this fic this year, but a very kind reader asked if I would post this to Ao3, so it was my first fic of the year on Ao3. It’s Lotura! Originally a gift for a dear friend I’ve had since elementary school. It’s a fantasy AU where Lotor stumbles into Allura’s kingdom needing help.

Next to Me (7311 words)

Also for Bad Things Happen Bingo, this is probably one of my favorite fics of the year. This is the canon verse AU that went all wrong in s7, and Sendak succeeds in destroying Earth. Lance and Pidge end up not only his prisoners, but also two of the last humans in the universe. Ends open ended, but it became a series in the end!

Into Me (14248 words)

The sequel to the above fic. There are two versions, this and the one below. The title tells all. Lance and Pidge come to terms with their new life aboard Sendak’s flagship and do their best to keep the other comforted.

Into Me (non-explicit version) (7228 words)

Exactly the same as the fic above, only this one is SFW

Sunshine (3831 words)

A Bad Things Happen Bingo! One of my favorite concepts. Canon verse. Pidge gets sick while she and Lance are on a scientific mission.

Showoff (635 words)

A really short fic for a friend on their birthday, featuring their plance kids!

Respite of the Heart (4181 words)

A fic I have been wanting to write for a very long time. I love the concept of Pidge as a Disney Princess in the sense she has the forest guardian theme and all these animals love her. So there’s some play on that as the Paladins stop for lunch on their journey back to Earth in early s7. Lance comes to a realization and they have a chat surrounded by the animal friends. @anchoredtetherart did a phenomenal piece to accompany it. Please look at it in awe here.

The Hardest Part (3960 words)

For Bad Things Happen Bingo! An AU of the episode The Reunion where Pidge doesn’t return when she’s supposed to.

A Planned Sacrifice (4988 words)

Another Bad Things Happen Bingo. Canon verse. Pidge assumes that being a sacrifice for the ‘forest god’ is strictly ceremonial and at worst a wild animal. It’s actually Sendak, who no one has seen since Shiro shot him out of the Castle. He remembers Pidge and is far too pleased to see her again, tied up on a silver platter.

Almost Forgotten, but Not Gone (3946 words)

Bad Things Happen Bingo. AU sometime in s1 where Haxus isn’t as dead as Pidge thought.

Touch (7519 words)

Written for the Lance Goes Boom bang! It was inspired by @fenixseraph ‘s amazing art here! It’s a different take on The Way Forward, where Pidge and Lance are separated from the rest of the team and placed in their own cell. And the Red Lion causes issues.

Chaptered Fics started/added to:

Wolf In Thieves’ Clothing (4516 words)

An AU of The Castle of Cagliostro from Lupin the Third series. Lee, you have my thanks forever for making me watch this finally. Pidge is a literal princess whose kingdom is in the middle of an internal coup. Lance is a gentleman thief who rides with his best buds Hunk and Matt. Their paths are destined to cross again when Lance goes back to the castle he used to call home.

Game of Love (4593 words)

The most crack of the bunch. AU of Fall the of the Castle of Lions where Sendak and Haxus get away with it all. Pidge and Lance are prisoners on Haxus’ new ship, and Lance finds an opportunity for eventual escape when he learns that Haxus has a crush on his second in command. Operation matchmaker begins. (happy ending planned for all)

What Tides May Bring (20704 words)

Collab with the fantastic @anchoredtetherart for MerMay! Established plance as mermaids and guardians of their elements with adorable mer child. Then angst because they are all captured by a ‘research’ institute.

Seasons of Magic (16546 words)

I actually added a chapter this year! Ongoing collection of one-shots with mage Pidge who lives in the country and cultivates her plant magic and makes potions with the assistance of her dragon familiar, Lance. Mostly domestic fluff.

Too Soon and Not Soon Enough (11438 words)

Added another chapter this year to my Keith-centric AU. It’s basically VLD but five years early and they’re all literally child Paladins. Keith gets to meet Krolia earlier and its fun to go into tween friendships as they try and navigate the reality of their situation.

Seeds (48833 words)

Added a ton earlier this year. A collection of plance fics all or mostly under 500 words. All meant to be adopted by others if interest strikes. Covers many genres.

Chaptered Fics Finished:

Resolve to Fly (75799 words)

Written for the Pidge Angst Bang. My artist @alchemie0 did an outstanding job capturing the feel of the fic. Look at the art here! Canon verse AU where Pidge encounters Haxus, who has crashed on Earth. She helps him repair his ship in excitement and good faith, which he pays back by kidnapping her. For two years she survives as little more than a housepet on Sendak’s ship. Gen.

Who's Protecting Who? (28989 words)

Also technically not written this yeah, but posted. A collab with Hush waaaay back in 2018. It's a plance Altean AU with Pidge as distant royalty and Lance as a bodyguard.

A Dish Served Cold (21533 words)

Finally finished this one! Canon verse in which Pidge accidentally runs into Sendak on an isolated planet. Sendak takes advantage of this encounter and tries to return to the Empire with her in tow. Much Pidge whump. Gen

Reflections:

Best title

I still really really love Too Soon and Not Soon Enough (11438 words). Because it's too soon for the Paladins to be Paladins, and for Keith it's not nearly soon enough for Krolia to return. It just feels like it has a lot of heart to it. I hope I can keep it going, but my ideas are incredibly scattered for it.

Worst title

Touch (7519 words). Yeah it’s a play on ‘Don’t you touch her’ but it feels soooo dry.

Best/worst last line

Best: This was really, really hard choice this year, but ultimately, making up for the terrible title, its Touch (7519 words)

“It feels good to escape the ship with all of his teammates, secure in the knowledge that he has a way forward not just as a Paladin, but also with Pidge.”

- Not only did I manage to fit the title of the episode in there, it's got that hopeful tinge to it and reflects on personal growth both internally and with Pidge.

Worst: This one isn’t necessarily bad from Begin Again (Together) (4805 words), but it could be better. It didn’t get quite the epic sense I was hoping to pull from it.

“Okay,” he smirks, hand firmly on the throttle. “Operation save Earth starts now.”

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Definitely wrote way more. Even with posting two fic that are essentially the exact same, I still ended up writing nearly half of my total Ao3 word count this year. (330,000/670,000). Doing Bad Things Happen Bingo was a bit part of that - I was very inspired at the beginning of this year - but also there were many events I participated in (8 total!!) on top of my personal projects.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

A really hard decision this year, because there are several that make me really happy. I think oddly enough though, it’s Game of Love (4593 words) because of its potential and how much crack it is. It has such whacky rom-com energy to it but also that underlying angst of the situation I can fall back on. My favorite trope to explore is what happens to the characters when they’re captured. I just really enjoy the concept and the challenge to make such a concept believable with minimal suspension of belief.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

Using kudos as my gauge (and not counting the chapter fics), the winner is:

Respite of the Heart (4181 words)

Not surprising because Ivy’s art is STUNNING.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

I think that’s It Tasted Good (6785 words), the pikelavar fic. Pikelavar is underappreciated in general

Story that could have been better?

For all I was excited to write Sunshine (3831 words), it didn’t quite fall the way I had imagined in my mind. I don’t know if it was the structure or I was running out of steam or what. All i know is that I wanted more but all I could concentrate on was that scene where he’s caring for her in bed. Maybe I was just too ambitious.

Sexiest story?

No brainer it's Into Me (14248 words). Literally. Which really shocked me that it happened. Didn’t think I’d write any smut at all, let alone this year. This particular fic just kinda called out for it

Saddest story?

The prequel to the above fic: Next to Me (7311 words). How much more sad can you get than Earth being destroyed, being Sendak’s prisoners all while trying to tell each other ‘i love you’ without seeming weird because you’re the last humans in the universe.

Most fun?

I think it's Ready to Dance (4135 words). Just Valentine’s fluff and impromptu slow dancing in the park at night.

Story with single sweetest moment?

I’m picking What Tides May Bring (20704 words). Listen, mer Lance and mer Pidge playing with their mer baby in their domestic paradise is probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Dad Lance has my heart.

Hardest story to write?

The last chapter of A Dish Served Cold (21533 words) was like pulling teeth. I’m pretty happy with it in the end but at the time man it was so hard.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I wrote smut. It was...weird? But also strangely calming. I wrote more for another fic but it's still a WIP. I definitely need to be in the mood to write it.

Proudest Achievement:

The Pidge Angst Bang. Resolve to Fly (75799 words). Look at that word count. I only wanted something under 3k at first, so it was just going to be Pidge meeting Haxus. But by the time I finished that part it was already 10k. So even though I was going through a rough part of my life, I just kept going and it ended up being my therapy. I’m really proud of the fic and I love my artists’ pieces. It really lifted my spirits. (You should all really go check out the Ao3 collection of all the bang stories and art they are AMAZING you won’t regret. If you love Pidge angst they are all must reads.)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

I’d like to finish my Bad Things Happen Bingo card and then focus on my current WIP, that includes the Seeds collection. There are days I still feel a bit overwhelmed, and I’m still trying to find a routine after moving. I’d like to do more events too, but I think I need to be more selective about which ones I do. I don’t want to burn myself out.

Apart from that, I’d really like to try and give back to the community more. I’d like to start consciously writing fics for others without an event to go by.

Past Years:

2017

2018

2019

#plance #pidgance #rueitae #writing roundup #my writing #vld #2020 writing roundup

26 notes · View notes

tabbyrp · 3 years ago

Text

{Tropes in the Wild West, part 4} {Cont from [x]} @brooklynislandgirl @tarnishedhalo

Sleeping in the saddle required two things: skill and a steady horse. Sam considered himself reasonably adept at the fine art of riding and Red Wing, in his humble opinion, was one of the finest mares to grace the lands. Rattlesnakes didn’t spook her in the slightest. Streaks of lighting could split the heavens while thunder roared, and it would barely raise a flick of the mare’s tail. Not that her resilience in that regard had been tested lately. Along each step of this ride, started a goodly time before the first cock’s crow and continuing well past the sun’s zenith, the sky stayed clear and the ground bone dry, dust kicking up with each strike of the hoof. A current flicker of wind sent a near hand’s worth of grit straight up Sam’s nose, made him sneeze violently, and dragged him out from the otherwise pleasant doze.

As the cowboy righted himself, drawing brim of hat higher to survey his surroundings, it became possible the horse had roused him on purpose. They had reached the stretch of trail which led a winding path to the Riley stead, beaten down over the years by equestrian hooves, plodding cattle, and the occasional trip by cart or wagon. Sam knew it well, even if lately he had not travelled it as often as he should, matters between him and Riley being ever complicated since the incident. Complicated, but not uncivil. As horse and rider trotted towards the house, Riley was there to greet them, the setting sun causing two waiting glasses of whiskey to ascend into sparking gold.

Later, Sam reclined in one of the family’s chairs, still plump with padding despite a long journey from the old country. His stomach was full from a hearty meal and weary bones found comfort in the stillness. Miss Beth and the other guest had both retired gracefully once the plates were cleared, disappearing with lanterns and laughter that spoke of a secret joke between them. Sam was none the wiser as to how Miss Tabitha had come to be part of the residence. An innocent inquiry over dinner had been deferred by Riley and enforced with that certain set to his posture. The one that taught men quickly to keep civil tongues in their heads about Miss Beth. Miss Tabitha appeared to raise his same guard dog hackles, though Sam was wise enough to resist laying bait to see what Riley would bite over.

Their previous partnership had worked well for numerous reasons, one being Sam’s calm balance to Riley’s strong will. Caution tempering boldness, except for when those bold choices were exactly what the situation required, and Riley had always been willing to lead the charge. Fearless was how Sam had viewed his friend from the first moment they met, two young bucks about to learn how this wild land needed to be treated. Now, Riley appeared weary as he poured them both a fresh glass of imported drink, one that Sam took a light sip from, lest he give in to temptation and fall asleep right then and there.

Perhaps Riley took pity on him after the long journey, for he skipped the polite type of conversation that would involve asking how the cattle were faring and what the other cowboys had been doing whenever granted free time to carouse in the township. “Now that the ladies are gone to bed, are you going to explain why you’re really here? I know you miss my cooking and the wit of my conversation, but it’s a long journey for one meal.”

There… there… beneath the crooked smile, lingered a ghost of the Riley he remembered. It hurt Sam in the chest, for he was about to snuff it out before the flame had time to grow. “We’ve got trouble at the ranch.” He gave Riley the due respect by facing him square on, as was right when about to ask a man for aid. “The kind that only you and your sister know how to deal with.”

They left the following morning. The two men had spent time in discussion about the safest mode of transportation. A small wagon was slower, though it had advantages should anything untoward happen out on the trail and they needed to defend the women. Riley was prepared to begin greasing the axles when Miss Beth emerged from the stables, her steed in a trot while she led another by the reins. Miss Tabby, being from the town and used to working on her feet instead of in a saddle, had clutched the pommel tight to keep from lurching off, though she carried a grit of determination that Sam could find respect for.

Both were dressed ready to travel, supplies and bags strapped securely in place, with Miss Beth making statements implying that the men should hurry up before they were left behind. Riley was none too pleased, that much was plain, but arguing would only waste more daylight. Even a horse whipped until bloody could not complete the journey between sunup and sundown. Making camp at night always carried a risk, although there were certain spots on the plains where lingering too long meant not rising come the dawn, and Sam had no intention of becoming grub food. Not today, at least.

Compared to Red Wing, with her steadfast nature, Sam’s friends favoured more spirited equines. Riley needed only a light squeeze of thighs to send Sally into a rocking canter, man and horse in perfect unison as they scouted ahead for trouble. Miss Beth’s gelding was a restless creature, endlessly flicking his mane and resisting the reins, keen to break free from a plodding walk. On occasion she split off, never travelling far, mostly to examine a particular shrub or other object of interest. While the brother and sister pair were absent, Sam and Miss Tabby engaged in idle conversation. He learned she was not a whore, despite a residence at the saloon, and nothing more about what bound her to the other. For all Miss Tabitha demurred, she did so with a warmth that few white women ever offered Sam.

Miss Tabitha’s charisma, however, took a dent when it came time to stop for the day. After horses were fed and a fire stoked to life, she insisted on breaking off pieces of her dried apple and depositing them outside the edge of the stone circle which Miss Beth and Riley had lain around their camp. Protests about attracting animals landed on deaf ears. Even after the ladies fell asleep, huddled together nose-to-nose beneath woollen blankets, Riley suggested Sam leave things be. So, he did, until a pair of ruby red eyes appeared in the shadows and four claws, scythe shaped like a barn cat if not so large and twice as thick, dug into the offering.

Sam looked away, deciding it best if he saw no more if he were to cede to his friend’s request for restraint. Already a part of him screamed to wrench a log from the fire and strike the cursed creature away into the blackened landscape, if not send it screeching back to the hell from whence it came. “It’s gone now.” Riley’s low, steady voice drew him away from those malignant urges, and indeed, when he glanced towards the darkness, nothing stared back at him.

“Is she like you?” Sam’s question hung in the air. Riley sighed, reaching to toss another fistful of kindling into the fire before standing.

“You can take first watch.” The man clapped his shoulder, unapologetic for everything, and made his bed beside his sister. Stars spread across the night sky and a chill carried in the air, making it hardly scandalous for Riley to roll onto his side and tuck in behind Miss Beth, trapping in the warmth of her body. A few hours later, when it came time for Sam to stretch and rouse his companion, he equally made no mention of how Riley’s hand had drifted during slumber, one arm draped heavily over his sister and a lock of Miss Tabby’s hair twisted around his fingers.

The remainder of their journey passed quick enough, the foursome covering ground faster than Sam may otherwise have predicted. He estimated it barely an hour past midday when they crossed the invisible property border to the cattle ranch which he called home. Previous plans for expansion in both land and numbers were currently postponed. Waiting for better weather, the current herd needing all their attention in an endless hunt for blades of grass still holding moisture. A dam and her offspring had wandered away from the rest, nosing at the ground as the group rode past. Sam would have to round her up at some point. There were other matters to attend to, and Riley had expressed his desire to deal with those sooner rather than later.

Further within the boundary, while far away from everything else, stood a corral. The small collection of wooden beams and panels nailed tight together, if certain slants to joints suggesting a hasty assembly. Remaining atop their horses, Sam led them closer. Slowly, cautiously, for even steady Red Wing gave a nicker of protest at the approach. One of the other ranch hands had draped a circle of rope at roughly a yard’s distance from the enclosure, locking it down with heavy iron nails. That was where Sam halted them. Close enough for a clear assessment, far enough for safety.

It took a moment or two for the dozen bovines within to notice their presence. Leathery heads lifted, empty eye sockets unseeing and gaunt nostrils sucking in the air. Their hair was gone, every last strand, leaving behind bleached skin that clung to gaunt bones. Unlike the docile mother cow they had passed, these creatures shivered and swayed, endlessly shifting their weight from one spindly leg to the other. The largest of them rocked forward, pressing up against the fence. It licked the air with a decaying tongue, got a proper taste of the observers, and gave a guttural howl. Two more went flank to flank with the leader, catching the scent. Sinewy necks extended towards Sam and the others as far as captivity allowed, falling short, yet still teeth flashed as jaws snapped wildly, bone clicking against bone.

Miss Beth and Riley exchanged a look, the elder saying something under his breath. Sam possessed enough experience catching his friend’s muttered comments to piece together this one. It’s spreading. Riley raised his voice to ask what methods they had tried to dispose of the creatures with, impassive while Sam listed off lead bullets, noxious poisons, and an attempt with an axe which left the wielder with a broken arm. “Take Tabitha up to the quarters.” Issuing what was more order than request, Riley dismounted with his old engraved pistol in hand, his sister following and starting to unstrap certain bags from her saddle. “And bring a few strong men back with you, along with some shovels.” Being dismissed caused a protest from Miss Tabby, and it took another terse, private conversation between her and Riley until the lady relented.

Perhaps it was none of his business. Still, as he and Miss Tabby rode away from the corral, Sam took in the downcast twist to her expression, and said in a tone of someone making merely a passing mention, “He’s only like that with people he cares about.” She sighed, lips parting as if to reply, but whatever she may or not have intended to say was cut off by the sound of a single gunshot ringing through the air. A high-pitched scream, bestial and ferocious, came after, then another crack of the gun. Miss Tabitha covered her ears and Sam took her reins, leading the horse with the sounds of death following close behind.

#brooklynislandgirl #tarnishedhalo #the AU that just won't quit #au: on a steel horse I ride [weird west]#/all errors are my own/

2 notes · View notes

sapphicwhump · 3 years ago

Text

Deception of Luna

Fandoms: Destiny, Destiny 2 Tropes: F/M, trauma recovery, heavy angst, light fluff, creepy whumper, cosmic horror elements, whumpee/caretaker intimacy TWs: flashback, explicit noncon, implied death of loved ones, implied misogyny

Read on AO3

Lich-5 considers herself to be quite lucky. At least with her assignments on Luna; not so much with her loot. She speeds across the lunar surface on her Sparrow towards Archer’s Line, having just received a bounty to clear out the Fallen there. There are three of the usual crimson phantoms en route this time; each one cowers and screams in terror as her Sparrow plows by. To her, these nightmares are just nameless red silhouettes that occasionally make creepy noises; none of them are the slightest bit recognizable. The larger ones, the ones that appear as long-dead enemies rather than Guardians, have names she can recognize from her historical studies, but nothing more than that. Despite her own experience, Lich knows that most of her fellows don’t see them that way.

The Pyramid of Luna is a nasty piece of work, to say the least. She would call it sadistic, but it would be improper of her to anthropomorphize such an alien being. The nightmares it spawns are drawn directly from the Guardians’ most painful losses; vanquished nemeses, outlived mentors, lost loves, and a myriad of others now walk again on Luna. In every case, their passing had left wounds on the people they left behind, and now the Pyramid has made those wounds fresh again.

The worst part, Lich thinks, is that doing so offers it no tactical advantage. The Pyramid doesn’t need to crush Guardians’ morale; it could crush them all very literally if it so chose. This thing’s kind had caused the Great Collapse of humanity’s golden age; surely the Last City of today would be no trouble for it to exterminate. The only thing keeping them all alive is this Pyramid’s continued desire to bide its time. And in that time, it’s chosen to reopen their old wounds because it’s fun.

The reason Lich-5 considers herself lucky is because she doesn’t have many wounds that can be reopened. She'd been resurrected just after the Red War, into a world struggling to recuperate, to make some amount of sense out of the tremendous loss. Her roommate Windy isn’t a particularly old Guardian by any means, only a few years her senior, but that still puts his resurrection date solidly before the War. She doesn’t pry him about it, but she’s aware that the majority of people he knew had been permanently Returned To Light by the forces of Dominus Ghaul. Windy avoids assignments on Luna like the plague, as do many of her elder acquaintances. She’s met Guardians who were resurrected in the Dark Age, now hundreds of years old, who have pushed on through every defeat humanity has ever faced since the Collapse. Lich herself recently turned three.

Will she live to be hundreds of years old? If she does, how much will she lose in that time?

She’s coming up on Archer’s Line now. There’s already some Guardian activity here; in the distance, she can pick out the dull gray bulk of a male Titan’s armor against the background of lunar dust. Ignoring his presence, she drives into the old K1 Logistics facility and gets to work.

Clearing the facility takes under ten minutes. She emerges from the front entrance with her armored Warlock’s robe dotted with scuffs and splattered with Fallen Ether. Her bounty objectives aren’t quite complete yet; there are still a few Fallen skittering around the Lunar surface that’ll have to be dealt with. She’d think that life-or-death combat would be too stressful to become boring, but when that death isn’t much more than a temporary (if painful) setback, the repetitiveness of it can get a bit dull.

Just gotta get it done, then I can relax. The rewards from these last few bounties should be just enough to afford that fancy new armor set she’s been working towards, and then she won’t have much to do until the next big crisis inevitably hits the Sol system. She’s already thinking of a few new science projects she could start work on during her extended down time; monotonous work like this does little to satiate her burning curiosity.

The Titan she saw earlier seems to be approaching the K1 facility now. He’s welcome to loot the place if he wants; she only went in to get her bounties done. It’s nice to see another Guardian out here; the presence of an ally makes her feel slightly less alone in this gray hellscape, even if they don’t interact.

The boxy silhouette of his armor strikes her as oddly familiar. It’s possible that she’s seen him somewhere else before; there aren’t an unlimited number of Guardians in Sol, and Lich has met quite a lot of them.

Wait a minute—

Recognition shoots through her neural network like arc lightning. Instantly, her every piston is tense, all sensors on high alert. It’s him. Why does he have to be here?

She takes it back. Having another Guardian here isn’t nice at all, not when it’s him in particular . Lich quickly ducks back into the empty facility, taking cover from the imminent danger behind one of the large storage containers strewn about. She needs to be in a place where he isn’t in her line of sight.

Maybe she isn’t so lucky. Of course the phantoms wouldn’t reopen old wounds, only for another Guardian to do it instead. Taking stock of her emotional state, she abruptly realizes how much she’s shaking. She forcibly steels herself, struggling to regain her composure while cursing her own weakness. Simply seeing a Titan, even if it’s him, should not frighten her to the point where she’s struggling to even function.

Lich is ashamed to admit to herself how much sway he still holds over her mental state. His existence is a disgusting muck polluting the back of her mind; just being reminded of him feels like wading through a stagnant pit of human sewage, from which she can never truly escape because it’s in her head. Thinking about it more only makes it worse, causes her to sink deeper. She can forget him, at least temporarily, but then eventually something random always jogs her memory and she'll be back, trapped again in that pit of sewage.

She considers abandoning her objectives and transmatting back to her jumpship, still safely parked at the landing zone. But it’s this part of Luna that needs to be cleared of Fallen, and that fancy new armor set won’t be on sale forever, and she really shouldn’t be so pathetically weak to let this get to her. No, she’ll stay, to earn her extended down time if nothing else. She just needs to calm down and wait here until he—

“Oh hey, Lich. Long time no see.”

If Lich had a heart, it would have stopped beating at that exact second. His voice, just his fucking voice, almost throws her back there all by itself. He’s so insufferably casual with his greeting, like she’s just any other acquaintance to him.

“Hey. You mind leaving me alone?”

“Woah, relax. I’m just finishing up these bounties.” Condescension drips off of his words like spoiled milk.

“Yeah, well, please stay away from me while you do that.”

His tone sours, sounding almost disappointed. “Well you’re being awfully frigid.”

“Of course I fucking am!” Lich fumes, rage momentarily cutting through her fear. “What did you expect, that I’d be nice to you!?”

The Titan pauses. “Well… yeah, kinda. I at least didn’t expect to be jilted like this.”

For a brief moment, Lich sees red. Her trembling has elevated to a truly intolerable level, and she’s currently about five seconds away from drawing her Dawnblade on this man. She knows that getting violent with him would almost certainly end poorly for her, though. With great effort, she puts together a facade of something resembling calmness.

“Look… I think I’ve got a pretty good reason for not wanting to see you. Please leave, and never try to interact with me again. I know I’m never gonna get justice, so I just want to move past this and get back as close to normal as possible. You’re making it rather difficult to do that right now.”

“Justice?" He cocks his helmet to the side in what looks like disbelief. As if he has any right to act surprised by any of this. She can practically feel him rolling his eyes at her underneath his blank faceplate, and it makes her synthetic stomach turn. “Fine, fine. If you wanna be like that, it’s not my problem.”

He proceeds deeper into the K1 halls, finally giving Lich a reprieve from his vile presence. She turns to leave in the opposite direction, but stops short when she catches the Titan muttering a final insult under his breath.

“Fuckin’ melodramatic bitch.”

She whirls on him. “Fuck you, asshole!” she spits over her shoulder, still heading for the facility’s exit. “If I ever see you again, it’ll be too soon!”

The Titan is mercifully quiet. Lich is almost at the door; just a few more Fallen slain, and she’ll be able to go home and do her best to forget that she ever saw him again.

“No, fuck you.”

Lich barely registers the Titan’s words in her audio receptors, and she doesn’t notice the suppressor grenade roll between her legs until it’s too late.

————————————

Windy’s day has been restful, to say the least. He lays sprawled out on the couch of his and Lich’s shared apartment, his usual combat armor doffed in favor of boxers and a tank top, lackadaisically swiping through the datapad in his hand. On one tab is the sidearm section of Omolon’s digital storefront; on another is a gallery of images displaying a nude Awoken. He lifts his can of alcoholic liquid from the coffee table and pours the last of it down his throat, sighing in satisfaction. It’s kinda nice to stay home for once while Lich goes out to grind away at bounties.

Fuck, he needed a day like this. He’s been seeing less than his fair share of action recently, but continuously dodging Vanguard assignments on Luna has been anxiety-inducing enough on its own. After his first visit, he vowed to make every effort he possibly could to never return. The Vanguard had assigned him a strike against the Hive on Luna today, and so he had to call in one of his favors for a friend to take his place in the fireteam, hence his current position at home while Lich is out and about.

An Incoming Communication notification buzzes at the top of his screen, and he quickly closes the pornography tab before answering. It’s from Phylactery. That’s odd; Lich’s Ghost hardly ever lets themself be seen, and speaks even less. If Lich had a message for him, she’d give it herself.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

The Ghost doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “Lich needs immediate evac from K1 Logistics on Luna.”

Windy instantly bolts up from his slouched position. “Wait, what’s going on? Can she transmat out?”

Phylactery is doing their best to keep their tone clipped and curt as usual, but Windy still picks up on the desperate way they hurry over their words. “No, she’s currently catatonic. We’re stuck here until someone can provide an evac.”

“Catatonic?" Windy balks. “What the hell happened down there?”

The Ghost’s distress is evident. “I’m not quite sure. Lich saw something; I think we were attacked, but she still isn’t cognizant enough to give me the details. I felt something suppress our Light. I was knocked unconscious, and Lich… she’s not recovering. We need you here as soon as possible.”

Fear grips Windy’s gut. Suppressed Light means that an RTL is on the table. He’s got enough dead friends walking around on Luna without Lich joining that long list.

“It’ll take me awhile to get there; can you call any nearby Guardians for backup?”

Windy can detect a wince in Phylactery’s tone. “No, this… isn’t the kind of thing that a random stranger would be able to help with. Might make matters worse, even.” the Ghost quietly speculates to themself. “What she really needs right now is someone she trusts.”

Well that’s cryptic. He knows he’s not getting the full picture of events, and stumbling blindly into danger has always been more of Lich’s thing than his. He doesn’t exactly have time to press the Ghost further, though.

“Already on my way. Just gimme like twenty minutes to get there.”

“Right, thank you.” Phylactery seems relieved to no longer be discussing it.

Windy is already in motion as he hangs up the call. He drops the datapad on the cushion beside him, then vaults over the back of the couch in his usual manner. He doesn’t bother taking the time to change out of his boxers and tank top before exiting the apartment; he’ll don his armor in his jumpship. The residents of this housing block have seen far weirder things than his underwear, anyways.

Fuck. On Luna. Guess I won’t be able to avoid it after all. Dread constricts around his gut like a snake as he approaches the Tower’s hangar, a sensation that he knows won’t dissipate until he and Lich are safely back on Earth. For now, he tries to shove it down as best he can. His current priority is making sure that his roommate doesn’t get RTL’d; once she’s safe, he can go drown his worries at the nearest bar and put this all behind him. He distracts himself by planning out the route he’ll take there, what drinks he’ll order, who he might meet up with...

As he’s exiting the Earth’s atmosphere, Windy briefly speculates that maybe finding a therapist would be a better use of his time than just getting drunk again, before he blasts off at near-light speed for Luna.

————————————

Lich-5 awakens to the sensation of an immense weight on top of her, as if she’s trapped underneath a boulder. She’s laying stomach-down on the couch where she fell asleep, being pressed down into the cushions by the heavy object above her. She’s in an apartment typical of one of the Last City’s massive housing blocks, although not the one she shares with Windy. Night has long since fallen outside, casting the living room in darkness. What little illumination remains bathes everything in an odd vermillion.

The Titan’s apartment is small, but his couch provided an adequate place to crash for the night after a particularly wild bar crawl. Lich can’t get drunk, but flying her jumpship home while exhausted would be just as dangerous. When she proposed the idea of crashing at a nearby friend’s place, one particular Titan was eager to offer. He’s new to her group of drinking buddies, and so it struck Lich as unusual that he would so readily invite her over. Once at his apartment, she figured out his reason pretty quickly.

Tucked away in her backpack at the foot of the couch, Phylactery sleeps soundly, enjoying a well-earned rest after a long day’s grind. Lich is currently not being afforded that same rest. The weight on top of her shifts around erratically, fiddling with something, trying to get it open. She’s nearly driven to panic, but her fear keeps her frozen in place. Just pretend you’re still asleep, her mind unhelpfully provides. Play dead, and soon the predator will go away.

The predator does not go away. She feels a sudden spike of pain, and the irregular shifting of the weight quickly becomes paced and rhythmic.

Lich can’t pinpoint when or how her view shifts, but at some point she finds that she’s above herself—literally. She’s watching the scene unfold from a third-person perspective, her disembodied consciousness hanging a meter in the air over her incapacitated frame. She can’t compel herself to move a single piston or servo, her physical form refusing to comply with her immobilized will.

Long ago, in a time before she could remember, Lich had had nightmares in which she was pursued by an extreme danger, only to find her limbs paralyzed and unresponsive to her attempts to flee. This is a lot like that, only it’s not a nightmare; this is real life and the danger is directly on top of her. There is no chance to flee; she’s already been caught.

The Titan’s head, now free of its helmet, rests on the couch next to hers. Despite the warmth of his breath, a chill runs through Lich’s system. She can feel his wet lips graze against her artificial skull as he begins to speak.

“The Light does not hold its wielders to any standard of morality.” he whispers into the side of her head, where the ear would be if she were human. There’s a horrible wrongness in his tone, like multiple beings trying to speak through one mouth. “In the Dark Age, the Warlords inflicted terrible violence upon the innocent, just as he inflicted violence upon you.”

The motion gradually escalates in speed and magnitude, pressing Lich further down into the couch cushions with an oscillating rhythm. Her pain briefly increases as the pace picks up, but it quickly turns dull, and a sensation of warmth grows in its place as her own body turns against her. He’s speaking again, those wet lips and warm breath directly on her audio receptor. He doesn’t pause for air as he produces the words, regardless of his physical exertion.

“In Light, there is only pain.”

There’s a groan from above her, and the weight slumps, ceasing its rhythm. Lich silently breathes a sigh of relief, although she’s still far too overwhelmed with disgust to really be relieved by any of this. She knows on some level that it’s only been minutes, but her dilated sense of time has stretched the ordeal into what felt like hours.

The floorboards creak next to her, and the Titan exits the small living room, although Lich still remains effectively paralyzed. A heavy exhaustion has seeped into her chassis, now even worse than the one she was trying to cure by crashing here. Still unable to will herself to move, it isn’t long before unconsciousness claims her again.

————————————

Windy summons his Sparrow within the second he touches down on Luna. His stomach churns as he exits his jumpship, doing his best to keep his eyes on the ground and away from the lifeless red Guardians hanging motionless over the landing zone. The Pyramid must know this is a center of Guardian activity, and so the nightmares swarm here like some kind of macabre flock.

He passes three more of the crimson phantoms on his way to the dot Phylactery marked on his heads-up display. He gives each of them as wide of a berth as he reasonably can, trying to keep them in his periphery while still steering the vehicle on course. If he looks at one too closely, there's a decent chance he’ll recognize it. He fails to give the third one enough room, and winces under his helmet as it wails at him for help in a voice he’s pretty sure he can put a name to.

Phylactery’s coordinates lead him to the K1 facility at the far end of Archer’s Line. A short distance in, he finds his roommate’s distinctive hive-bone helmet lying discarded to one side. It’s not until he proceeds down a hallway and searches behind a storage container that he finds the Warlock it belongs to. She doesn’t appear to be in any immediate physical danger, although he wouldn’t think it purely by her posture; she’s curled up in a fetal position on the floor, trembling violently, the shutters over her optics squeezed as tight as they’ll go.

One of the red phantoms looms over her cowering form. This one is clearly a Titan, and Windy can’t restrain his relieved exhale when he fails to recognize it. It does not turn to acknowledge him as he enters, keeping its blank gaze fixed on the ball of a Warlock curled behind the box.

It takes Windy a moment to realize that Lich is crying. Her digital optics don’t feature tear ducts, but the anguish in her soft vocalizations is unmistakable. It’s a sound that he doesn’t hear often, but still far more than he’d like.

Windy steps straight through the phantom towards his friend, passing through it as if it’s not even there. The spectral Titan’s body offers no resistance and induces no sensation. The thing recoils in a mimicry of pain, then disperses into maroon wisps as if it were mist. The instant it vanishes completely, her optics fly open.

The first thing that Lich sees is Windy leaned over her, right where he had stood, offering her a hand.

"W-windy?" She accepts the hand graciously, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Phylactery told me you needed an evac.” The somber concern in his tone catches her by surprise, and she briefly feels a pang of guilt for causing him to worry this much.

Lich emits a single humorless laugh, barely holding in a sob behind it. “Yeah. You could say that.” She’ll have to thank her Ghost for their forethought later. She takes a moment to collect herself, brushing the lunar dust off her robes and trying in vain to suppress her shivering.

“You didn’t have to come for me.” she tells him frankly, refusing to meet his sympathetic gaze. “I know how much you hate this place.”

“Lich, it’s fine. There is nothing in all of Sol that could make me leave you behind.”

For a moment, Lich looks like she’s about to cry again, before she closes the distance between their bodies and embraces Windy in a tight hug. He tentatively returns the gesture, protectively wrapping his arms around her back, and her hold on his torso quickly turns into a death grip. She’s no longer crying, but he takes careful note of the way she still shivers and shakes in his embrace.

Lich buries her face in the crook of his neck, hiding away from the world in the rough fabric of his Hunter cloak. Her chemical receptors flood with the particles that cling to the garment; it smells like his shampoo and sweat and the dust of a hundred worlds, all composing into a unique odor that is very distinctly Windy. His smell is grounding, bringing her attention back to the here and now.

“So, did the nightmares get to you?” he asks, tracing his fingers over the top of her fiberglass cranium in the way he knows she likes. He immediately withdraws his hand when she unexpectedly flinches away from the gentle contact. “I thought you hadn’t lost anyone.”

Lich shakes her head gently against his cloak. “I, uh… I saw him again.”

Windy’s blood freezes. Then the phantom Titan was—

“Oh shit, Lich, I’m so sorry.” He suddenly feels very conscious of the way he’s holding her.

Windy can’t forget the morning that Lich had nearly collapsed into their apartment, utterly disheveled after a long night out, and he had to delicately explain to her that sex is not a required payment for a male friend lending you his couch to crash on. Working through that day had been a painful experience for them both, although Windy has no illusions about which of them had it worse. Despite his seniority as a Guardian, dealing with this particular type of violence was entirely outside of his expertise. To his knowledge, aside from him and Phylactery, she’s never told another soul of what happened that night.

“This fucking Pyramid.” he spits out venomously, staring out at the lunar expanse beyond the facility. That fucking Titan. Hate festers within his ribcage like rot. At the time, he’d had half a mind to bust down the Titan’s front door with his Golden Gun in hand, ready to vaporize both him and his Ghost. But Lich needed him more than that Titan needed a bullet, and so the obligation to support her had stayed his hand.

With the Pyramid, though, it’s so much worse. Even though he couldn’t act on his impulse against the Titan, at least there had been some degree of hope there. With how utterly infinitesimal he is compared to the Pyramid’s world-ending might, he doesn’t even get the luxury of a revenge fantasy.

"It was like—" Lich begins to speak, but stops short as her chassis is taken by a violent shiver. Windy can almost feel the intensity of the chill that runs through her. "Like being there all over again."

His attention snaps back to her, and all the hate goes cold. His rage is not what Lich needs right now. Staying angry is impossible when she’s still so visibly distressed. He mentally reminds himself that this is her pain, not his; she’s the one who gets to have the revenge fantasy, if she so chooses.

“Yeah. I... get what that’s like. It sucks, but the suck is ultimately temporary. You’ll get through this.”

The pair are silent for a moment as Lich’s mind swims. She really wishes she could take his words to heart, but the memory of him freshly burned into her mind is all she can focus on. She tries to clear her thoughts by concentrating on the steady rise and fall of Windy’s chest, while her own remains eternally still. She reminds herself of what’s real: he’s here, holding her in his arms, and soon they’ll be home safe. The danger has long since passed, and was never even here in the first place.

“I feel disgusting.” Lich voices the thought aloud, her gaze remaining firmly downcast. “I’ve felt disgusting since that night. I don’t know if it’s ever gonna go away.”

Windy winces, sucking in a quiet breath through his teeth. "That… I lack experience with. But, from the experience I do have, I can tell you that it’s not true." Now he’s the one to strengthen the embrace. Through the heavy weave of her robes, he soothingly runs a hand up and down her mechanical spine, and is relieved when she relaxes into the touch rather than flinching away. "You’re smart, and beautiful, and brave, and you can be really really annoying when you want to be, but I still care about you. You’re the furthest thing from disgusting that I can imagine. What he did doesn’t make you any lesser as a person; you’re still the same Lich I’ve always known.”

Lich tries to form a response, but words fail her, immediately getting caught in the knot that’s formed behind her speakers. She settles for simply holding Windy close, savoring the feeling of their arms wrapped around each other. Some part of her is still trapped in that sewage pit, but it’s further away now, distanced from her by the closeness to him. For the briefest moment, she believes with absolute certainty that everything he said is true, and almost manages to clamber her way out.

“Y’know, if Guardians really are amoral, you’re a pretty good counterexample.”

“Hm?” He turns his head towards hers with a raised brow.

“Ah, nevermind. Symmetrist ramblings.” Windy can’t help but notice another chill run through her.

It’s a long while before Lich feels stable enough on her own to leave his arms. When she finally begins to move away, he retracts his protective embrace, allowing her to separate from him without resistance.

"You ready to head home now? I'll ride with you to the landing zone and fly us back to Earth. We can pick up your jumpship later."

Lich releases an extended sigh, exhaling her residual tension into the thin lunar atmosphere. “Sure. Thanks for all this, by the way. I… needed to hear that.”

He gives her a warm, relieved smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Lich finally escapes from K1 Logistics with her hand firmly in Windy’s. While the Sparrow is intended to be a single-occupancy vehicle, that’s never stopped particularly affectionate Guardians from riding them two at a time. Lich and Windy share the single seat, with her clinging to his back, holding on with her arms wrapped around his midsection.

The ride back to the landing zone is short, but both Guardians savor it. The red phantoms don’t cause either of them much distress on their return trip. Holding each other close, the nightmares seem just a little bit fainter.

#my writing #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #tw noncon #lich-5 and windy

1 note · View note