#then when we looked across the street it was somehow pouring lmao

[deadfish-dol]

small-area raincloud cropped up at work... & then followed me home 😱

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #31] The Photo Booth

warnings: THE photoboth chapter!!!! a legend amongst bd readers!!!! we meet jaykays mum (shes the best) and his dad (legend), byeol gets her own back for the 'daddy' debacle, teasing, shameless flirting, a lil dirty talk, jaykay is desperate and whiney (just how we like him!!), precum...swapping?? as much as it can be swapped lmao, jaykay does her glitter ::(((((, a date! between friends!! some would argue!!, photobooths, kissing !!!!, oh god I love them so much, very cute, mmmmmm the way he says goodnight!! or alternatively, the way he doesn't say goodnight!!, our babies are v confused <3 cos they are stewpid <33

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Mum? Dad?" Jeongguk calls into the entryway of his family home, pushing the door further open with his shoulder.

Your bag is hooked over his broad back, along with his own, Jeongguk not even considering it a favour. Just helps you out in little ways whenever he can, just because he can. You do what you can to make his life easier, and so it's reciprocated without a second thought.

Carrying a bunch of fresh flowers that had hastily been picked up from the shop across the street, you're a little nervous. There was no way you could show up empty-handed, but had been so scatterbrained when you left your place, it had completely slipped your mind. They're pretty pink posies and are something - which is always better than nothing, even if they aren't all that impressive.

"Oh, you're here!" A sweet voice calls from the back of the house. The sound of indoor slippers scuff against the wooden floors, as his mother scurries to greet you both. "I thought you'd call when you were on your way!"

"Sorry," he apologises and leans down to let the bags softly tumble to the floor, before outstretching his arm for a hug. "Left in a bit of a rush."

Squeezing his mother gently, his back eclipses her from your view. Hands patting his back, you think you can tell a lot about a person from their hands - and she's no exception.

Well-manicured, his mum clearly looks after herself. She wears just two rings - her wedding band and engagement ring. Gold. The only remaining elements of her wedding jewellery that had survived the '98 gold drive.

"Spent my whole life in that house," Jeongguk had said of his family home on the journey to Busan. He'd been opening up. Telling you tales that you'd have never heard if you had declined his offer. Is clueing you in on the life that formed him. Wants you to know. "They held onto it throughout everything. The financial crisis, turn of the century, everything. I'm lucky. We were never well-off, but they never let me know when we were struggling."

It explains a lot about who Jeongguk is, you think. Never wants others to shoulder his burdens. Keeps things bottled up until the glass shatters - but you can see through glass. You always know.

A modest three-bed, there's something nostalgic about the four walls he calls home. Though you've never been here, it somehow feels familiar - but that's perhaps more so to do with the scent of laundry drying, and the fact that Jeongguk uses the same fabric conditioner as his mother always has done.

Swanning Jeongguk out of the way, his mother greets you with a smile that could stoke warmth in even the coldest of hearts - and suddenly, you understand exactly where Jeongguk gets it from.

Dark, round eyes, and a smile as radiant as a spring day, she's got the kind of delicate nature bestowed upon Disney princesses. If you were to learn she'd been a model in her youth, you wouldn't be surprised. 

Introducing yourself,  you hold out the flowers for her to take.

"For you," you offer, a little shy and reserved, in a way that Jeongguk doesn't see too often. Your glitter - toned down today, for some reason - sparkles in the late afternoon sun that pours through the windows. "Thank you so much for offering to host me. I really hope it hasn't put you out too much-"

"Oh, don't be silly," she tuts, flipping her hand away as if to emphasise that it really is no big deal. "It's always lovely to have Jeongguk's friends staying with us."

She glances over to Jeongguk. Leans in a little closer. Whispers just loud enough for him to hear. "Plus I'm sure you'll be a far better house guest than Jimin ever is!"

"Mum!" Jeongguk goes to defend his housemate - but he knows his mother adores Jimin. Treats him like a third son. Knows she's creating an alliance with you, given the little lie Jeongguk told about you previously dating Jimin.

"What?!" She plays innocent, and it's suddenly so easy to see why Jeongguk is the way that he is. A product of the people around him, he soaks up their best qualities like a sponge in search of water. His playfulness must come from her. Taking the bunch of flowers, she smiles. "Let's go put these in a vase. You must be hungry."

"Ravenous," Jeongguk confirms, as if he didn't eat half an hour ago. "What's for dinner? And where's dad?"

"At the driving range," she tuts, encouraging you both further into the house.

Large and open plan, the sitting room is adjacent to the kitchen; a space designed for socialisation, it's clear that Jeongguk's parents enjoy hosting. It's no surprise that they agreed to let you stay without hesitation, and is also why Jeongguk had no qualms about asking.

"Minhyuk got a new driver that he wanted to show off, apparently," she continues. "A Titlelist. Got it in some dodgy back alley sale. Your father reckons he's been scammed, but Minhyuk reckons it's the real deal, so I'll guess we'll see."

"Minhyuk lives down the road," Jeongguk explains to you as his mum rummages around in a cupboard to find her favourite vase. He's smiling, amused by it all. "Bit of a busybody. Likes being in people's business, so Dad likes to return the favour. Petty middle-aged man shit."

"Watch your language," his mother scolds. He apologises immediately.

It's sweet, seeing Jeongguk like this. He's always been respectful, even if he does swear like a sailor and has a sense of humour that would send a prude to an early grave.

"As for dinner, I told your father to meet us at the samgyeopsal place you like down by the beach-"

"Ugh," Jeongguk smiles, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Don't know why you're thanking me," she hums sweetly as she arranges the flowers in the vase. A little lacklustre while they were still wrapped up, she manages to preen them to look far more beautiful. "You're paying."

"I'm- what?!" He whines, now, taking on the role of youngest son perfectly.

She's just joking, and you all know it - but you also know Jeongguk will likely try and cover the bill regardless. Glancing over to you with a cheeky grin, his mum playfully shrugs her shoulders. You return the smile, and giggle a little harder when Jeongguk continues to whine.

"Oh hush your moaning," she simply says. "Go take your bags through to your rooms. We'll head out in half an hour."

Jeongguk doesn't protest. Drags you along with him back to the entry hall to retrieve the bags.

"See," he says quietly, finding your shyness all rather curious. You're never normally like this. Never so quiet. "Told you there was nothing to worry about. Mum always likes my friends."

Picking up your bag to hoist it over your shoulder, you simply say, "Nerves are natural."

Jeongguk doesn't entirely disagree, but really thinks there's no need for you to feel this way.

"Yeah, if you're meeting, like, a girlfriend's parents," he says. "My parents are nothing to be scared of. Idiot."

"Doesn't matter if I'm not your girlfriend, Gguk. I still want them to like me," you remind him. "And let's be realistic here, parents aren't one for subtleties. You've brought a girl home and have hickies on your neck - I need to touch up the foundation, by the way. If they notice, they're gonna add two and two and get five."

"Well actually," he interjects. "They'll add two and two and get four. You are the girl who gave me them."

You laugh. He's got a point. "But I'm not your girlfriend ."

Yep , he thinks. Thanks for the reminder.

It's not like he even wants that. He knows that things are good as they are. Knows that any indication of things getting serious will likely make you run for the hills.

Things feel easy, now. He doesn't wanna do anything that will complicate it. Won't tell you how he's feeling, 'cause he knows the second it does, things will change.

He doesn't know if it would be for better or for worse, but he knows you. Knows his own lived experiences.

The mistakes made with Hayun have contorted his ability to go with his heart, because he knows the pain it can cause. Will take the nail-biting uncertainty of his feelings for you over the soul-crushing certainty of rejection any day of the week.

You're equally as shaped by your own experiences.

Once had a man who would declare his love for you on a Monday morning before his monthly business trip, only for him to spend the entire week in bed with a girl from the accounting department. You've no trust in words. No trust in anything, really, when it comes to matters of the heart. All you can trust is how you feel - but even that's a little more confusing than usual, these days.

"And thank God for that," Jeongguk teases, which seems to settle the woes within you. He tilts his head to the side and guides you up the hallway. "C'mon. I'll show you to your room."

He deliberately doesn't show you his own room. Will show you later, once he's had the chance to hide away most of the embarrassing stuff he hasn't touched since he was a teenager.

Instead, he leads you straight into his brother's old room, and winces.

"It's worse than I remembered."

Jeongmin's bedroom walls are coated in the Lotte Giants; like an oil slick on the surface of a road, or ice cream dripping down the side of a cone. Unsubtle, garish and impossible to ignore, the man is an interior decor menace.

Flags, shirts, commemorative posters, you name it; Jeongmin has it. You think he must have personally spent enough money to fund an entire season of the KBO.

It's a pretty inoffensive colour scheme - white, blue, red - but it's still an eyesore. The rest of the house is well-decorated. Tasteful. Roses do come with thorns, you consider. Maybe Jeongmin and Jeongguk's rooms qualify for that position.

"So your brother likes football?" You deadpan - although you're sure if there was a Lotte Giants branded football, you'd be able to find one in this room.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Doesn't even dignify it with a proper response.

"It's a miracle he even managed to get girlfriends during high school. This shit is... I didn't recall there being so much."

Signed baseballs, bobbleheads, foam fingers. God. It's endless. Trading card binders, house slippers, even a rubber duck. It's overwhelming.

"What about now?" You ask of Jeongmin's passion. "Still obsessed?"

"Less so," Jeongguk shrugs. "Did call his dog Seagull, though."

The prospect of a dog being called Seagull has you bursting into laughter. You half think Jeongguk is joking - but quickly realise he isn't. For some reason, that only makes it even funnier.

"Will he be at dinner? Your brother?" You ask, setting your bag down on the freshly made bed. The scent of laundry detergent wafts up, and it reminds you of being back at Jeongguk's place in the city. You've never felt more at home in a stranger's bedroom.

"Why?" Jeongguk asks, narrowing his eyes, remembering what you had said earlier. "You're not allowe-"

"Oh give over," you laugh. "You know I won't."

You've never seen his brother, but already know Jeongguk must be the brother. The one that the girls go crazy over.

Then again, Jeongguk did say that his brother is a fuck boy. Perhaps he's just as handsome.

Impossible .

Thing is, Jeongguk doesn't know you won't go for his brother. You made threats earlier. Knows he ignited a fire in you the second he pulled the 'Daddy' stunt. Knows you're competitive. Regrets it a little bit now. Only has himself to blame.

"Anyway, piss off," you playfully tell him. "I wanna get changed."

Jeongguk doesn't care. Takes a seat by his brother's desk, instead. Smirks. Raises his brows in that promiscuous, boyish way that always disrupts the butterflies who peacefully rest in your diaphragm. "Okay. Get changed."

"Gguk," you deadpan. He's pushing his luck, and he knows it. Glances over to the door. It's ajar, but pushed shut enough to obscure any unwanted eyes. Just means he needs to keep his deep voice quiet.

"What?" He flirts. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Your mum is down the hallway!" You whisper-shriek. Sometimes you forget how much of a boy Jeongguk is, and then he pulls shit like this.

The worst part?

You love it when he's like this; all cheeky and brazen, audacious in his quest to get what he wants.

And when it's you that he wants? Oh, it gets you all hot under the collar. He has that effect on people, you think. It can't just be you.

"So?" He licks his lips. Rakes his eyes down your body. Looks fucking hungry - and to him, you look like a 5-course meal he'd gladly get on his knees and beg for. "She's not gonna come in."

His lips press down against one another, tightly. His lip ring does the thing. You whine.

"Gguk."

"Byeol." He teases. "It's not like you're getting naked. Not like we'd be doing anything. Seen you in your underwear so many times."

He'd like to know that he still can. Wants to know he hasn't fucked it all up by getting you a little vulnerable earlier.

"Maybe I am getting naked," you whisper back, feeling challenged now.

"Are you?"

"Should I?" You tease. He sits up a little straighter. Tries to be subtle as his hand drops between his legs, the heel of his palm pressing against himself. Fails. You know he's adjusting himself. Know that it means he's getting a little excited.

"Think if you need to, then you should," he simply replies. "Just a little revision of a bird, no? Nakedness ? It'd be good."

You don't need to get fully undressed. Not in the slightest - and you're not gonna.

In fact, Jeongguk isn't gonna see anything - but you're still gonna fuck with him a little first. He deserves it after this morning.

You turn away from him. Shrug the jacket off your shoulders. Toss it onto the bed. Open up your bag, and have a little dig around.

"I'm not sure what to wear," you hum, sounding a little defeated. It's intentional. Want him to think you're being genuine.

Turning to face him, you hold lingerie in either hand. Packed deliberately just to fuck with him. Had figured you'd wear it discreetly, letting him know as and when he deserved to know. Would use it to wind him up - and not to give him any satisfaction. He's right in thinking he's ignited a little competition in you.

Didn't realise you'd take him to war, instead.

He's not seen you in either of these. Has never really seen you in your 'nice' stuff. All of your underwear is nice to a certain extent, because you're intentional with your purchases. Like feeling good beneath even a pair of sweats.

However, Jeongguk has only ever been treated to matching sets.

After all, you've never tried to seduce him. He's your friend. You fuck each other, sure, but it's cause it's comfortable. Safe.

The lace in your hand is far too exciting for your established arrangement.

In your left hand is a lace bodysuit. Mesh panels make up the structure, but it's the ornate, hand-sewn lace that really makes it beautiful. The neckline is fairly high, so sometimes you get away with wearing it at a top on nights out. Been a while since you went that risque.

In your right hand, it's a classic black garter belt. Jeongguk has no idea what the fuck they're called, just knows he likes them.

He swallows. Licks his lips. Doesn't know where to focus his eyes. Barely realises he's gripping himself now. Is so fucking hard.

"Which is your favourite?" You ask, eyes innocent, voice nonchalant.

Jeongguk thinks he'll die if you wear either.

"Both are fine," he manages to say, eventually.

"Fine isn't good," you pout.

"Well what do you want me to say, B?" He whispers, clearly a little frustrated. Not with you. With himself . "That as soon as you put them on, I'll wanna take them off you? They're fuckin' hot. Both of them. Fuck ."

He tilts his head back. Whines a little. Moans. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Think you might be a masochist," you giggle now, tossing the lingerie back down by your bag. Will save it for later. Poor boy is going through it. "You did this to yourself."

He looks at you with a huff and a frown that is far too sweet for the situation at hand.

"I'm stupid," he pouts. "Pea brain. You're the one with a big brain. You should tell me to stop doing pea brain things."

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I did," you smile fondly as you walk towards him - 'cause even if it looks like he's admitting defeat, you don't trust him yet. His cock is too hard to be making sensible choices.

Coming to a stop between his legs, you don't stop Jeongguk when his large hands stroke up the backs of your thighs. Your own hands are toying with his hair. It's all very amorous; affectionate despite the allure.

"You don't know that," he whispers, still. Cupping his strong jaw, you tilt his head upwards. Your hair is still up from earlier, and he regrets it now. Always loves it when your hair tumbles around his face. Likes being consumed by the entity of you. The scent of your shampoo, the softness of your well-conditioned hair. Heaven.

"You made a bad decision this morning," you remind him. "Would have done it even if I told you it was a bad decision."

Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks this is true. That instant gratification of his ' Daddy' stunt made it worth it.

Worth it at the time, at least.

He's not so sure, now.

Sinking to your knees, your hands stroke up his thighs. Jeongguk looks down at you, tongue wetting his lips. There's a change in his breathing. Anticipation.

"You know," you say quietly, making sure no sound travels at all. You're not looking to get kicked out of Jeongguk's house within an hour of being invited in. Looking directly at his hard crotch as your hands squeeze his thighs, you simper. "I really thought you were gonna take charge this morning. Thought you were gonna get me where you wanted me."

"Yeah?" he husks, pulling on his shirt, releasing it from the belt around his waist. Lifts it a little. Gets his abs out. Is doing shit he knows will make you salivate. One of your hands follows his encouragement and pushes up his chest. Hard beneath your warm hand, his body really is a gift from the gods.

"Yeah," you tease.

"What did you think, huh?" He says, his hand cupping your cheek to raise your gaze to his. It'd embarrass you, if it were anyone else; but for some reason, you don't mind worshipping Jeongguk unabashedly. Are on your knees like his body is your alter. Whisper words of sin like you're in a confessional. Pray that you'll never have to give this up. Religion is wasted on you, and Jeongguk is a false God, but you've never felt more holy than when you're committing cardinal sins with him. "Where was I gonna get you?"

Smiling in that coy way you so often do whenever he gets you a little vocal, your eyes rake back down his body.

"Right here," you shrug. Give him those eyes; the ones that make Jeongguk think he's seeing fucking stars. Smirk, before you say, "thought you were gonna get your cock in my mouth."

"Shit," he curses as you press down over the hard ridge in his pants. He's always so pleased to see you - especially like this. "You want that, huh? Wanna suck on it?"

Nodding, you bite on the lip, sin written in the constellations Jeongguk's gazing at. "Wanna make you feel good, Koo."

If Jeongguk doesn't get his cock in your mouth within the next minute, he's pretty sure he'll die. Has wanted it for weeks. Months . Wants you in any capacity he can get you, granted, but there are few things in life better than a good blow job. Good pussy, is, admittedly one of those things, but he already knows you have that. Thinks your mouth must be just as good.

His hands drop to his belt. Metal clangs as he races to get it undone. You let him. Don't stop. Watch on with sated pleasure as he hurries. Undoes his buttons, and then his zipper is down, too. His Calvins are on display. There's a teeny tiny damp mark showing through; evidence of how badly he wants you. "We don't have long. Be quick, B. Gonna nut so fuckin' fast."

Smirking, there's something so painfully endearing about how needy Jeongguk is as he untucks himself from his boxers. Thick and firm, his cock is just as pretty as it always is whenever he's desperate for you. The little bead of precum pooling at his tip is begging for your tongue, the freckle on his shaft deserving of a pretty little kiss.

And then you pull back. Look at his pretty, needy face and raise a brow. Poor baby .

"Said I wanna make you feel good," you smirk. "Not that I will."

You get to your feet. Walk away. Giggle to yourself as Jeongguk fucking whines as quietly as he can. Needs that door closed. Needs you to know that this balling is gonna kill him off. Head thrown back, cock in his hand, he's gonna fucking die .

"B," he growls a little, faux sobs echoing from his throat.

"What?" You smile. He looks like a fucking state, desire taking hold of the way he's staring you out, chest heaving a little bit. And then, to add insult to injury, you remember to 'address him properly'. "Something wrong, Daddy ?"

His face bunches up. Regret embeds itself into the lines on his face. He whines. "You're so mean, Disco Ball."

He's cute. Really fucking cute.

It makes you feel bad.

And fuck, you want him.

Seeing him like this gets you all sorts of fucked up - but he deserves it.

He watches you cautiously as you walk a little closer.

You crouch between his legs this time, instead of getting down on your knees. Replace his hand with yours. Have missed how it feels to have him in your grip.

Eyes on his, you watch as his chest begins to beat a little fast. His lips are ajar. Eyes forlorn, he's desperate . His cock twitches in your hand, so you tighten your fingers. A hushed moan lets you know he likes this. Likes every fucking thing about it.

Licking your lips, you position yourself a little better. Glance down. Think it's a miracle you haven't given him head yet. Have never wanted to choke on a cock more - cause what are friends for, if not that?

"I'm not mean," you whisper. You drag your wet tongue across the tiny slit that is fucking oozing for you. It takes everything in you not to give into what you want. "I'm so nice to you, Koo."

You've got a point to prove, though. Ease your grip. Stand. Replace the now empty space in your hand with his chin between your thumb and index finger, grasping onto it as you tilt him upwards.

You hold your tongue out, encouraging him to do the same - and without even a second fucking thought, he does it.

Eyes wide, Jeongguk wants this. Want you. Wants your tongue on his.

And what Jeongguk wants?

Well, eventually , he always gets it.

Your tongue swipes against his; traces of his own precum sinking onto his tongue, masking the taste of you.

He wants more.

Wants you to do it again. Wants to taste you. Wants you to sit on his lap, tongue in his mouth. Wants to be too fucking busy with his lips to remember how to breathe.

And, like always, he will get it - just not now.

Eventually, yes.

Immediately, no.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day, B," he whines as you walk away from him again.

"Good," you smile, talking at full volume now. Playtime is over.

You do, however, take off your shirt, and let him watch. All he can see is your back, but even that drives him insane. He can't remember the last time he was this worked up without any indication of a release. He's been horny all fucking day.

Pulling a fresh shirt over your head, you're a little sad to see he's tucked himself away when you turn around again.

"Go get ready," you say fondly. "We don't have long."

Jeongguk is pouting. A crease between his brows, he looks hard done by.

" So mean."

His stroppy demeanour makes you laugh. It's so classically him. A Ggukism, if you ever did see one.

"That's what you get for making me call you Daddy," you say quietly. Find it funny how much of a baby he's being - and consider that maybe he's the one that is better suited to the nickname.

He whines again. Louder this time. You glance to the door. Make sure you're still without disturbance.

You want to call him baby.

Just because it works, and it's funny, and - fuck it - maybe it'd be nice.

But it would also be a step too far, you think.

"Shush," you say affectionately, not accenting your command with 'baby' like you really want to. Instead, you walk over to him and cover his mouth with your palm. "What if someone hears you whining, huh? I don't wanna have to tell your mum you've just been tasting your own cum in your brother's bedroom, do you?"

"You're so fucked up," he wails, feeling incredibly hard done by. He needs to learn how to resist you. Never wants to have to endure this again.

"We're so fucked up," you correct. "I wouldn't be so mean to anyone else - but you deserved it."

He can't even argue against it. He knows that this is a product of his own creation.

"Go, get yourself sorted out," you encourage him along. "We don't have long."

He nods. Sighs. Gets to his feet, and does his trousers back up. Is convinced he'll die before your trip to Busan finishes if this is the game you're playing.

Leaving you to get ready (and to let his raging boner die, even if he won't) Jeongguk returns within 15 minutes. He's nonchalant, as if what happened the last time he was in the room was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

You're sitting by the floor-length mirror (which is, of course, adorned in Lotte Giants memorabilia), doing your makeup. Hair claw-clipped now, Jeongguk is a little sad to see your space buns go, but understands why. You seem to be a little more demure than usual.

He nudges his knee against your back, gentle in how he touches you, your body swaying ever so slightly.

"Don't," you smile, pulling the liquid glitter away from your face. "I'll get it in my eye."

There's an innuendo to be made there, but Jeongguk knows better. Just smirks. Plonks himself down next to you; cross-legged, knees up, arms hugging around them. He looks like a condensed version of himself like this, sitting as close to you as he possibly can just so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Little disco ball," he says fondly, watching you dab the glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes. It's not something he often calls you these days, but there's something about hearing the name now that makes you smile.

"Strange, isn't it?" You muse. "This time last year I was just disco-ballin' in your club. Didn't even know your name."

He nods. Smiles. "And now you're in my brother's bedroom turning yourself into a disco ball."

"Funny little lives, we live," you muse fondly. How far you've both come. If it wasn't for the glitter, you don't think you'd recognise yourself.

"Would you have ever predicted it?" he asks. Knows he was intrigued by you from the very moment he first saw you. Has no idea what you thought of him. Wonders if you had 'what if' thoughts about him. Who he was. Who he could be. What you could become. "That you'd end up here?"

"Honestly? Sorta wanted to curl up and die after you found me in your living room."

The memories are a little hazy, but you still remember the look on Jeongguk's sleepy face in the early morning sun that was intruding on his living room at the time.

Jeongguk nods. Smiles. Remembers it far better than you do. "Yeah, wasn't your finest hour."

You turn to look at him, chin resting on your shoulder. There's a glow about you now that Jeongguk can't seem to get enough of. Wants to drink you in like purple starfuckers at 2am in the heat of full-capacity Dionysus nights.

"I mean, I don't know," you say with a small shrug. "How often do you become friends with your punters?"

"Not often," he admits. "How often do you become friends with your bartenders?"

You're coy as you smile. "Not often."

Not ever, actually.

Yeonjun doesn't count - you've never spent any time with him sober, even if you do always enjoy seeing him behind the bar. Even then, it doesn't compare to the way you seem to light up whenever Jeongguk is serving your drinks.

Jeongguk's the first. The only.

Taking the liquid glitter from your hands, Jeongguk scoots a little closer. Gets more product on the wand, and sets the tube down beside him. Pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb.

There's no opposition from you; just a silent acceptance of Jeongguk dictating your movements. Lips parting as he draws a little closer, there's apprehension to the way your eyes flicker between his own pair and his lips.

Jeongguk is pleased, but tries not to let it show. Fights his smile. Battles the inner voices telling him that kissing you would be a good idea.

Breath hitched as his dark eyes survey your face, you're regretful of the way your body responds to him. Friendship tainted by desire; a natural by-product of fucking someone you really care about, you think.

It's no secret that you adore each other, but doesn't everyone feel so fondly about their best friends?

He's slow as he dabs the end of the wand against your cheek, following around the curve of your eye socket. Jeongguk always thinks you look so pretty when you highlight yourself with glitter there. It catches the light so easily that he always notices it. Might have even been the first glitter of yours that he notices in the dreary lights of Dionysus, the hedonistic haze of neon lights and dark shadows creating the disco ball effect he likes so much.

"There," he says quietly as he finishes evening it out. "Pretty little star."

"Careful," you say back just as quietly. "You'll give me an ego."

"Just returning the favour," he jokes, screwing the wand back into the tube, his hands working quickly. "The Daddy thing really did a number on my ego this morning."

Rolling your sparkly eyes, you gently push him away.

"Fuck off, Jeon," you playfully reprimand him for mentioning it again, getting to your feet. Smoothing out your clothes as you check yourself over in the mirror, you're pleased to see that Jeongguk has applied your glitter just the way you like it. Dabbing it out slightly, your heart swells a little with how attentive he is.

Still sitting exactly where he was, Jeongguk strokes up the inside of your leg. It's all very innocent. Just touching you 'cause he likes the comfort that comes with it. You're in sheer tights, there's a softness to them that Jeongguk likes. He tries to forget the garter belt you were holding earlier. Doesn't think you'd wear it out for dinner with his parents.

He's right.

No matter how hot it might be working him up in public, you're not about to go and do it in front of his parents . You have some morals at least, even if Jeongguk does make you momentarily forget about them from time to time.

Reaching down, you scratch his hair a little, just behind his ear. Eyes closed, he leans into your touch like a little puppy dog. So docile and devoted. Cute.

"C'mon," you encourage him, but remain fixed in position. Head versus heart. Wanna stay right where you are in the cocoon of Jeongguk's family home with him, but know you have places to be. "Shouldn't keep your mum waiting."

He nods, head resting against your leg. Sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

You offer him a hand up, of which he gladly takes. Checks himself over in the mirror. Is still wearing the outfit he drove in. Considered changing, but he's aware of the way the girls at the service station were ogling him earlier. Knows the outfit probably has something to do with it.

He doesn't mention the change of your outfit; the fact that you're wearing a white shirt too, now. It's tucked into a little black skirt, he's certain you're probably gonna wear those slightly worn out Converse of yours - and he intends on doing the exact same.

"C'mon, kids!" Jeongguk's mum calls up the corridor, echoing your thoughts about needing to leave.

It's nice, you think, to be grouped with Jeongguk in such a way. Makes you feel like this is the way it's always been. Doesn't matter if you're in your twenties, and Jeongguk's mum met you an hour ago. There's an acceptance of you; of your place in her son's life.

He glances over at you, scrunching his nose a little. Is a little awkward. Likes the idea of you being part of his life since childhood. Is sad it'll never be the case.

"You heard her. Let's go."

Ushering you back down the hallway, a hand on top of your shoulder, thumb rubbing the nape of your neck, there's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk always finds an excuse to touch you.

It's not scary, nor daunting in the way that you always deem intimacy to be, but it is something . Gets you feeling a little flustered. Has you wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, as if he was tickling you.

"Stop annoying the poor girl," his mother scolds fondly as you come into her line of vision, which just simply earns another protest from Jeongguk.

"She's the annoying one."

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

It's all in good humour, and his mother appreciates this. Likes seeing Jeongguk goof around, especially knowing how stressed he's been lately. Has barely called. Missed his father's birthday to study.

All she wants is for her children to live happy, fulfilled lives, and if there's one thing to be noted about Jeongguk's current demeanour, it's that he's undoubtedly happy.

Whether or not that has anything to do with you, she doesn't know - but she wasn't born yesterday. His desire to visit home is understandable after the pressure of his studies. He needs rest - and somehow, he factors you into that rest.

Of her two children, Jeongguk's always been the more introverted one. He needs his time to recharge. Would be the life and soul of the party at school, then come home and remain silent until dinner time.

For a few years, it bothered her. Thought that maybe Jeongguk was unhappy at home - but it was quite the opposite. It's his safe space.

And now he's bringing you into it.

"Is the room okay?" she asks you, knowing that the sheer amount of baseball memorabilia in Jeongmin's room is... a lot to take in. "Interior decoration was always more of Jeongguk's speciality. Had Jimin to give him pointers. Jeongmin... Well, he had an acquired taste... As you've probably already gathered."

Laughing a little, you nod. "It's grand. Thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it - and I grew up with a Lions-loving Dad. I'm used to it."

"Ohh," his mother winces, then addresses Jeongguk. "Keep this one away from Jeongmin."

You also turn behind you now, raising a brow. He's just rolling his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

"Samsung Lions - and their fans - are the scum of the earth in Jeongmin's eyes," he explains, then looks over to his mum. "Is he coming to dinner? Do we need to sit them at opposite ends of the table?"

Shaking her head, she laughs. "No, he's got plans, apparently. I did tell him you were visiting, but you know what he's like."

Jeongguk just sort of accepts this answer. Nods. Shrugs his shoulders, as if it's to be expected. An air of disappointment clouds around Jeongguk, lips pursed, eyes stern.

He and his brother are cut from the same cloth, but have been sewn together with different stitches. For all their similarities, they have stark differences, too. This one has always been the most challenging for Jeongguk; how little his brother seems to care about maintaining a good relationship.

Jeongmin seems to think their status as brothers is enough to keep the bond strong. Doesn't seem to care about fostering an actual friendship with him.

It's part of the reason why Jeongguk is so reluctant to let go of friendships that no longer serve him. They're filling a void. He never wants to be the one who gives up. Doesn't wanna be the reason things fall apart.

"Alright," Jeongguk's mother smiles at you both. "Ready to go?"

It surprises you that she's the one driving to dinner instead of Jeongguk - but it makes sense, given the fact you and Jeongguk will stay in the area afterwards.

She insists that you sit up front, even if all forms of hierarchy would dictate that Jeongguk should be there instead. He doesn't complain. Sort of likes how you and his mum are ganging up on him like a little team.

When you arrive at the samgyeopsal place, his father is already waiting.

He's everything you expect him to be: funny, a little dramatic, and the spitting image of Jeongguk, just with a few more grey hairs and even deeper creases beneath his eyes. Introduces himself with as much gusto as a cartoon character; full of life and pleased to have another person to relay all of Minhyuk's misdemeanours to.

You learn more about the Busan Driving Range circuit than you ever could have predicted - specifically about Minhyuk, the legitimacy of his 'bargain' driver, and how Jeongguk's father is convinced he's been tampering with his balls.

Jeongguk chokes on his drink when his dad mentions that last point. Earns himself a talking to for thinking with such a dirty mind - but after a few drinks, his parents are giggling about it, too.

There's something incredibly easy about being around Jeongguk's parents. It's no wonder he's grown into the person he is.

You feel a little shy. Don't understand the in-jokes at first - but someone always explains them to you. Normally Jeongguk, but sometimes his mother. Never his father, 'cause he'll go on a twenty minute long tangent explaining the lore and the back story. They've learnt this the hard way.

Still, he's a dab hand when it comes to grilling the meat. Takes charge of it all. Plates his wife up first, always. You second, Jeongguk third, and then himself. Head of the house, he takes his place in the hierarchy seriously, but not at the expense of the ones he loves. Will make sure they're provided for first.

Jeongguk is much the same. In charge of refilling the soju and beer, he'll pour for his father first, then mother, then you. Puts the bottle down before he fills his own, which is when you step up and fill his glass. He'll nudge with you his knee beneath the table to make you wobble, but never enough to make you spill it.

Subscribing to drinking norms is something that you never really do with Jeongguk. He's a bartender, after all. Things are always a little unconventional. He's normally the one making you drinks and sorting himself out, too.

Something about this feels incredibly domesticated. Natural. Pleasant.

By the time dinner is done, Jeongguk's parents have to order a taxi. Had a little too much to drink- but you're bloody glad for it. Made it a lot easier for you.

"Your parents are fun," you beam, walking down the promenade of Gwangalli with Jeongguk. It's your favourite of all the busy beaches in the city, but you rarely ever get the chance to see it after dark. There'll be a drone show, soon. You've definitely never seen that. Can't wait for it.

"They sure are something," he laughs, a little embarrassed. They have big personalities, which he's glad of, but he knows they can be a bit much sometimes. "Dad drinks well, so we probably had a bit more than we should have done. Sorry."

Shaking your head, you don't mind in the slightest. Are at that giddy stage of drinking, where everything seems marvellous, and bad decisions cosplay as good choices.

"Are you forgetting how we met? I don't mind having one too many, Gguk."

"True," he agrees, checking the time on his phone. Still a good half an hour before the small show. It's just a free thing that the city council puts on every night, not a huge deal to him anymore, but he understands why people romanticise it. Knows that you have to see it.

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk checks the road before he crosses, dragging you along with him.

"Hm?" You squeak, taken by surprise. A little tipsy, your reflexes aren't as fast as usual, just like tipsy Jeongguk isn't as good at voicing his thought processes as sober Jeongguk usually is.

"Photos," he simply states, leading you into a small retail unit that houses only photo booths.

It's the standard set-up: wall partitions between self-timer camera units, and curtains instead of doors to the small spaces. Each booth has a different colour background, adding to their own individual charms. The walls of the entryway are lined in discarded pictures; friendship groups, couples, first dates, anniversaries, birthdays. Life events, big and small. Moments of time captured to last forever.

Accessories and props are abundant in the entry area - hats, glasses, wigs, signs. Your favourites are always the headbands. Kitty ears, normally, though sometimes you branch out into bunny ears if you're feeling fancy.

There are five booths in total along the back wall, but one in particular grabs your attention: the one advertising Sanrio-themed frames instead of the standard solid colour outline.

"Oh my god," you gasp, and then it's Jeongguk's turn to squeak with confusion. You point to it. Specifically, to the My Melody and Kuromi figures by the bottom of the ad. "It's us."

He smiles. Doesn't really understand your hyper fixation. Agrees nonetheless. "It is us."

The pair of you goof around, picking props. Jeongguk learns that you find him in any sort of animal ears absolutely hilarious, but the second he puts on a yacht captain's hat?

"Take that off right this second," you tell him, voice stern, eyes wide.

He's bemused. Snorts a little. Teeth on show, he's dangerously pretty. So handsome and yet such a little shit. "Why? Like it?"

You turn your nose up. "Hate it."

"I know you're lying," he laughs. Tilts it down. "Is this getting you all hot, B?"

"I'm leaving," you say, because it's so much easier than saying yes.

Something about him in a white shirt, with that hat? White with a navy peak, gold embroidery on the sides? God, you see why the old money girlies like boatmen so much. Decide that you're never getting on a boat with Jeongguk if you want to retain your sanity.

He takes it off. You don't even realise it, but you pout.

"You're so confusing, Byeol," he says as he playfully puts it on your head - and then he's feeling all fucked up too.

Something about a captain's hat. Just really does the trick.

You've both had too much to drink. There's no reason for you both to be getting flustered because of a stupid hat and yet -

"I don't think we should ever touch hats again," Jeongguk says very quickly.

But then you put a pair of kitty ears on and he starts questioning whether or not furries are actually kinda onto something.

He furrows his brows. Picks up a pair of ears. Bunny ones. Black. They're satin and a little too sexy, he thinks, but he's gotta see himself in them.

And when he does?

He kinda gets why girls dress up like cute animals for fancy dress parties. Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet - but shit. He does look cute.

"Oh my god, YES," you exclaim when you clock his new attire, and quite literally drag him to the booth. He gets no say in the matter, and honestly doesn't care. Is having too much fun with you to take any of this seriously.

You pick the Sanrio framed booth, because of course you do. Jeongguk pops his card in the slot, and lets you click through on the options that you want - 4cut, vertical frame. The classic style. Your favourite.

Turning to Jeongguk, you tweak his glasses a little. Can't decide if they look better hiked up, or further down his perfectly sloped nose.

All Jeongguk can think about is your nose, and much he wants to nudge his up against yours.

And so he does just that.

Doesn't give a fuck.

The camera flashes.

You're caught, forevermore, in your state of Jeongguk-induced hypnosis. The pictures will survive beyond you. Will be stored in boxes to be looked at once, maybe twice by future generations.

One day, no one will know the name of you nor the boy you're with. They won't know how the scent of his aftershave lingers, nor the way your soft exhale of air sounds as you smile. Your present will be lost to history, this photograph? Your legacy.

Nothing will be known of you, and yet this picture alone will tell them everything they need to know.

"We're gonna waste shots," you whisper. The booth takes six photos, but you'll only be allowed to choose four for the printed picture at the end.

The more to choose from, the better.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. Holds your neck just beneath your jaw. Strokes across your cheek with his thumb. Looks at you with sparkly eyes and a boyish smile that is just begging to be kissed. "Don't you wanna see what it looks like when we kiss?"

"It's intimate," you remind him.

"Maybe - but it's also fun," he reminds you.

The camera flashes again. That's two shots wasted, now.

If you let this carry on, it'll be three, and then one of them will have to be used in the final print.

And yet as Jeongguk nudges against your nose a little deeper, you let him.

When his lips ghost yours, you let him.

When his lips press down, you let him.

You'll let the third photo be taken, because you'll be too busy kissing him back to pay attention.

The fourth, too.

Lips on yours, Jeongguk kisses you in a way that he hasn't done before. It's delicate, and gentle, but his lips are strong. Intentional. There's no intrusion of tongue, no fervent need to get you moaning, even though it feels like you will regardless.

Your brain screams at you. Something about rules, and breaking them.

You ignore it.

'Cause all you can think about is the way this feels.

You don't think you've ever had a kiss like it.

And it's terrifying.

It's not until the fifth shot flashes that you both pull away; smiles smitten, eyes glossy. Both of you felt that. Ain't no way he couldn't have.

You think that maybe that's even more terrifying.

And so for the sixth shot?

Both of you pretend to throw up, disgust plaguing your giggly smiles and blushed cheeks.

There's distance between you, but as soon as the camera flashes, Jeongguk is pulling you back to his side again. It's just so that you're both ready to look through the pictures that are about to pop up on the little touchscreen. He's being helpful. Glances down at you, and has to stop himself from pressing a kiss into your hair.

Things are just so easy with you.

As soon as the pictures load, you're laughing. "We have to retake these."

"No, no, no," he swats your hand away, then taps on one of the photos, adding it to the preview frame. "My jaw looks really good in this one."

It's shot number four. Mid kiss. His hands on your cheeks, yours out of frame because they were on his waist. His jaw really does look fantastic - but it's sort of devastating when you realise just how happy he looks. He's smiling into the kiss. The most devastating thing of all?

So are you.

"How is that even us," you giggle. Seems so bizarre to see yourself like this.

"Gross isn't it," he smiles, adding more of the pictures to the frame, but you're the one correcting him now, tapping his hand to move him out of your way.

"We need them in order," you say. "A chain of events."

Eventually, the order is settled: the nudging of noses, the innocence of a kiss with the sin of Jeongguk's sharp jaw, the slightly startled look in both of your eyes as you'd pulled away, and then, of course, both of you pretending to vomit.

As they print, you pick out props for the next set of photos - Jeongguk in a pair of purple heart-shaped glasses and a Kuromi headband, you in that damn sailor's hat - and discuss which poses to actually do. This time round, it's all peace signs and finger hearts; goofy angles too close to the camera and a little laughter to set the tone.

"C'mon," Jeongguk says softly as you finish sliding the pictures into the thin plastic sleeves next to the booths. He normally doesn't bother with them. Likes that you seem to care about preserving the integrity of your memories. Hand outstretched, he encourages you to take it.

"Your bird," he says. "Said we'd do it in Busan."

The look you give him is coy, eyes a little sultry, lips a little pouty.

When you're silent, Jeongguk laughs. "Hold my hand, B."

"Getting a little date-like, don't you think?" You say of the night, but Jeongguk just shrugs.

"So? We'll just call it practise."

"Mhhm," he nods, shaking his hand a little because you still haven't held it. He's impatient. It's only as you take his hand that he begins talking again. "You don't wanna go back into the dating world unprepared. What if Mr Mechanical Engineer tries to hold your hand without you being ready for it?" He squeezes your hand, leading you out the door. "Let's get you used to it."

The mention of Seojoon makes you feel guilty. About him? About Jeongguk? You're not sure. It's something you need to figure out. Something you need to figure out fast .

And yet as Jeongguk holds both yours and his shoes in one hand, your hand firmly secured in the other, you choose not to think about it.

Just think of the sand, and how it will be a bitch to get out of your tights. It's sort of like your glitter, in a way.

But just like Jeongguk wouldn't trade your glitter for anything, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything either.

Neither of you say much. Just listen to the waves rolling in. Listen to other people's conversations. Listen to the whir of the drones as they start up and get into position. The show begins. Won't last longer than ten minutes. The silence is comfortable.

He holds your hand, and you move them to your lap in a bid to keep them warm.

Jeongguk isn't really feeling the cold. His heart is simply burning too brightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says as the show draws to a close.

"Me too," you whisper back fondly. "It must be nice to be home."

"Well, you know they say," he muses. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

Been at home for months, B.

You breathe through your nose, exhaling a sincere smile. Could say a million things. Could say nothing at all. Could ask what he means, but you're taking it at face value. Genuinely think he's just happy to be home.

"We should visit more often," you suggest.

"I'd like that," he nods as he squeezes your hand. "You wanna go explore the night markets?"

Grinning, you get to your feet immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jeongguk leads the way. Shows you his old haunts. Gets you hotteok from his favourite stand down by the promenade. Shows you the arcade machine he once spunked away 50,000 won on and didn't even win a prize. Shows you the initials he and Jimin caved into a pavement curb fourteen years ago. Took them hours. Both got blisters. Worth it though. They're embedded in the city, forevermore.

He takes you down memory lane, and you find it's your favourite street to visit with Jeongguk. You love his history; learning what shaped him. Who shaped him. Where.

Not once does Jeongguk let go of your hand.

Not down the markets, not along the beach, not in the taxi home, even when he doses off for a moment, head resting on your shoulder.

Not once. Not until you're both home, and he's saying goodnight outside of his brother's bedroom door. He's still toying with your fingers. Isn't even gonna suggest the idea of doing things you know you shouldn't.

Doesn't wanna taint the night.

In the morning, he'll blame all of his bad decisions on the alcohol. Will say he was tipsy, even though you stopped drinking hours ago.

He hugs you goodnight. Lingers a little too long. Too close. Nudges his nose against yours. Brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"This..." he whispers. "This is what it should be like."

His jaw tenses. He holds himself back from pressing his lips against yours like he so desperately wants to. Knows he's already said too much. Pulls himself away from you, to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lip ring is so hard, and his lips so soft, that it makes you feel all sorts of fucked up.

The most fucked up thing of all?

How badly you want his lips on yours.

But then he fucking walks away .

Closes his door. Shuts you out.

The evening had been so simple. So straightforward. Casual. Nothing confusing in the slightest. You were happy. So was he.

And yet as you lie in bed, all that rattles around in your head for hours on end is the question: what the fuck is happening to us?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[lesbian-deadpool]

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't 

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

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[atlabeth]

transferred part eleven - atla smau

masterlist | part ten | part twelve

there’s a time skip of about a month between this and the last chapter just so u know

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

a/n: i am so sorry this took so long to come out. i’ve been really unmotivated to write in general plus i’ve been super busy with school. i also have been hating everything i write lately i rewrote this like 4 times before i was okay with it lmao. also realizing that i might’ve channeled my stress over school into this chapter. manifesting a tea date w zuko

wc: 1.9k 

warning(s): cursing, pining, some very stressed out college kids, a painfully awkward zuko after a fun realization

perm taglist: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

transferred taglist: @ourbestfriend-mishacollins @lil-lex1 @xxshad0wxb1rdxx @zuko-is-the-sun @akiris @irohs-teapot @thatarthistorynerd @charlenasaxen @minninugget @marvel-ousnesss @count-thotticus @what-ye-egg @furblrwurblr @thesstuff @mariachiii @ietss @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @xbarrjallenx @tommy-braccoli @dreamsluvrr @floofybread @thelovelylolly @lin-biefong-is-my-life @tiffanyy-21 @sistheselenophile @theincredibledeadlyviper​ 

“Take all the time you need, I can see that it’s a very busy day.” Your head shot up from below the counter when you heard the voice and a grin broke out on your face. 

“Zuko! What are you doing here?” You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as he smiled, which was something that seemed to occur every time you were around him. It wasn’t your fault he had a smile that could make anyone melt. 

“Zuko! What are you doing here?” You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as he smiled, which was something that seemed to occur every time you were around him. It wasn’t your fault he had a smile that could make anyone melt. 

“What, am I not allowed to just show up?” He joked as he pulled a chair out from a nearby table and sat down. 

“No, of course you are! This is actually the highlight of my day. It’s just, this is one of your rare days off, so I figured you would wanna spend it doing something better than, uh, coming to the place that you work.” You dropped the towel you had been using to clean on the counter and walked around the register, taking your own seat across from him and crossing one leg over the other. 

“Well.. you sounded really stressed in your texts, so I thought I would pay you a visit. It can’t be easy balancing all of your classes along with this job, and I figured I could try and help with some of that.” 

The grin from before came back and you rested your chin in the palm of your hand. “Zuko, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You didn’t have to come all the way here just to hang out with me when we live together.” 

He seemed taken aback by that, surprisingly so. “How? I mean, you had a boyfriend, right?” Thankfully, you missed him visibly cringing at his choice of words as you looked away and passed it off with a laugh that only sounded slightly strained. 

“Keyword is had. I don’t really wanna get into details, but there’s a reason we broke up.” You opened your mouth to say something else in an attempt of changing to subject to anything that wasn’t your failed love life when you heard a familiar voice behind you. 

“I see that my only working employee is taking a break after her break?” You turned your head in a flash and your eyes widened slightly when you saw it was the one responsible for paying your bills.

“Oh, Iroh! I am so, so sorry. Blame your nephew for distracting me on the clock.” You immediately jumped out of your chair as Iroh came out from the back and he simply shook his head, giving you and Zuko a warm smile. 

“Please, do not worry. This is actually for the two of you.” He set the tray with a teapot and two cups on your table and the calming scent of jasmine immediately washed over you.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re practically paying me to do nothing right now,” you asked, hesitantly settling back in your seat. 

“I have complete faith that you will be able to handle anything that comes your way — today has been a slow day anyways, so you will be fine.” 

“Don’t even try to stop my uncle once he’s made up his mind about something,” Zuko chuckled. Iroh gave his nephew a knowing look that made him blush as he continued walking towards the door.

“Enjoy your date!” He called as he exited the store. Zuko’s face somehow turned an even brighter shade of red and you bit down the smile growing on your lips. You wouldn’t mind if this was a date, of course, but you knew it wasn’t. It was just one of your best friends coming in to see you to help you wade through the endless sea of stress you had found yourself lost in. Definitely not a date. 

“Y/N?” Zuko’s voice snapped you out of your pondering and you nodded with a small laugh. 

“Sorry, just got lost there for a second.” You picked up the teapot and poured a decent amount into both of your cups. “Y’know, I’ve actually started to like tea since I started working here,” you mused, taking a small sip of your own once you finished. “That might have something to do with the fact that we get a discount, but you’d be amazed at the things I’ve grown to like just because they’re cheap.” 

Zuko responded with a laugh of his own, and from there, conversation flowed easily. You weren’t even aware of how much time had passed as the two of you traded stories — your classes, events from your childhoods, your high school experiences — about anything and everything. Your stress melted away a little bit more with each shared anecdote and cup of tea. 

You found yourself enthralled with everything Zuko said — it wasn’t so much the material as much as the way he just… was. The way his eyes sparkled when he talked about his passions, how he tapped his fingers against the ceramic cup when he got excited, and of course, that smile that made you melt. You hung onto every word he said, but you enjoyed him simply being there just as much, if not more. 

And as Zuko watched you talk animatedly, barely able to get through the story you were trying to tell without laughing every other word, he knew that he would do anything to keep that smile on your face. The million dollar smile that lit up every room you walked into and made his heart burst at the seams every time without fail. He wanted you to see yourself the way he saw you, and he would do anything to make you happy. 

It was at that moment that Zuko realized that he was crushing on his best friend’s sister. Hard. 

“Shit,” he muttered. Your story grinded to a halt, exaggerated hand gestures frozen in the air, as you fixed him with a questioning look. 

“Did you say something?”

“No, no— Just- it was nothing. Keep going,” he gave an encouraging smile and nodded for you to continue, which you happily obliged. 

“So, anyways, that was how my lab partner asking a question led to us setting our entire experiment on fire,” you finished with a chuckle. You hit your hands against the table a few times then stood up. “Thank you for this Zuko, really. I wish we could just stay here talking, but I’m not getting paid to do nothing. I gotta get back to work.” 

You waited for a response, but the faraway look in his eyes once again signalled that he wasn’t paying attention. You sighed and snapped your fingers in front of his face, and that seemed to get him out of his stupor. “Hello? Earth to Zuko? 

He blinked a couple times and you let your hand fall to the table, concern flickering across your face for a second. “Sorry! Just.. thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“Classes,” he blurted after a too-long pause. 

You could tell that he was hiding something — throughout your time spent together, you had picked up on how he would always pick at the skin on his right thumb whenever he was nervous — but you didn’t want to push him. 

“I take offense to that, Zuko. You think that your classes are more important than my very entertaining story about my chem lab, I’m just- I’m heartbroken,” you snickered. “I was just telling you that I enjoyed this, and I really appreciate the break, but I actually have to get back to what I’m being paid to do.”

“Right! I, uh- have to get to those.. classes I was talking about.” He laughed nervously and stood up as well, and the two of you bumped heads as you both reached for the tea tray in the middle. 

You let out an exasperated laugh and backed up, rubbing the heel of your hand against your forehead. “Zuko, please! This is my job, let me do this, okay?”

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, looking like a fish out of water, as he stared at you with wide eyes. You nodded expectantly and raised your eyebrows and he was finally able to get something out. “Uh- right.” 

You chuckled as you picked up the tray and set the cups on it as well, but it was more than a touch concerned. “Is.. everything okay?” You asked, casting a glance back at him once you reached the register again. “Because I don’t mean to overstep, but you’ve been acting strange ever since I started talking about chemistry. Do you have a thing against molecules or something?” 

“Oh, no—it’s nothing you did! And I don’t have anything against chemistry,” he laughed. “I just.. I have a lot on my mind.” Zuko paused, letting his words linger in the air and causing more than a few questions to pop up in your head, but he broke the silence before you could ask. “I really enjoyed this, though.”

“Well, if you ever wanna talk about that stuff on your mind, then you know I’m here,” you smiled. “I had a great time too. And honestly, Zuko, you might be the only thing getting me through this week.” 

“Well, I’m happy to be of service,” he said, returning your smile. “Do you need me to pick you up after your shift?”

“That’s so sweet of you, but I can just catch a ride with Jin. She works at the dress shop across the street, and she actually lives pretty close to us!” You saw the slightest glimpse of disappointment flicker through his eyes and you stumbled over your words trying to explain. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company! I mean, obviously I do, we just talked for like, three hours— it’s just she offered, and I didn’t want to say no, plus she’s in my bio class, so I thought it would be good to get to know her—”

“Y/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he interrupted with a light laugh. “I don’t mind. I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t trying to get out of it because you didn’t want to make me feel bad or something. I know I’ve told you a million times, but I really don’t mind. You make my mornings brighter.” 

You averted your gaze with a small smile as you felt your cheeks heat up, and you bounced on the balls of your feet. “Cool. I’ll see you when I get home then?” 

“Yeah. Good luck with the rest of your shift, Y/N. I’m glad I could help with some of your stress.” The two of you exchanged waves and then Zuko was on his way. As soon as he left the shop you deflated and leaned against the counter, shaking your head and muttering to yourself. That man didn’t even know the effect he had on you. 

The rest of your shift went by much, much slower than your time with Zuko, but the conversations the two of you had during your break kept buzzing around in your head. And though things had started picking up with customers coming in for their lunch breaks or for a quick tea stop, making a lot of extra work for you, a small smile stayed on your lips for the rest of the day. And it was all thanks to Zuko. 

[libraryofloveletters]

Sober Feelings, Drunk Words

In which, Luke returned home lost and alone, he turned to the bottle for help and you for recovery. 

Luke Alvez x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, self destructive tendencies, consumption and mixing of drugs (sleeping pills) and alcohol, being drunk, the use of alcohol as a coping method, help to induce throwing up and vomit, 2 cuss words lmao, a bit of arguing and sadness (that's it I think ? lmk if I missed anything) 

Category: Angst to the max 

Word Count: 4.9k

Author’s Note: this hurt my heart to write, I was feeling very angsty for some reason idk :/ didn’t use the whole song either but major thank you to ishi for all her help with this! <3 @iconicc​

Major Disclaimer: this is purely fiction, if someone does mix alcohol and pills, call 911. Don't do what y/n did. 

Song: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ? 

----

The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time

But I'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes

Decided that once again I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you

Home didn’t feel like home anymore. 

Luke had been gone for quite a while, he sat in his empty apartment with nothing around except for the tv on the floor. He laid on the floor, his clothes scattered across the room with no intention of being put away anytime soon. 

Things didn't feel normal anymore. 

There was no will to do anything or even attempt to do so. Luke sat there feeling empty and hopeless. The urge to drink hit him, it wasn't something he indulged in very often but found himself doing a lot more since he returned home. 

The journey to the bar felt a lot slower than usual, he took in the sight, smell and sounds around him. A couple on a walk with their dog, a family’s laughter coming from their opened kitchen window, the smell of freshly baked cookies which he could only assume was coming from the bakery he was passing by. 

Stepping into the bar, the atmosphere changed. The dull lighting, the smell of cigarettes and booze and the drunk men sitting at the counter aimlessly hitting on the bartender. 

“Hey you” the woman behind the counter smiled at him, “your usual?” Luke just nodded, feeling a bit shameful that he had visited so frequently that he now had a usual. She slid a glass over to him, “let me know if you need anything else hun” he mumbled a thanks before picking up the glass. 

Okay just one drink and then I'm going home

He thought to himself before downing the contents of the glass. The woman behind the bar, whose name tag he’s now reading for the first time despite being there so often, came back over to him. 

“One more or you’re heading out ?” she asked him 

“Just bring the bottle over Sherry” he mumbled, she nodded before going to get the bottle

Luke’s head hung low, he poured glass after glass until the bottle was empty. He wasn’t sure what time it was but he couldn't bring himself to get up and leave the bar. “Sherry?” he called out to her, before lifting his head to find an empty bar with Sherry at the other end. 

“We’re closing in 10 minutes sweetheart, do you need something ?” 

“Could I get one more ?” 

“I can’t serve you anymore sugar, bar’s closed. I can get you something to eat if you’d like?” she offered him, he shook his head. 

“I’m gonna head out” he fumbled through his pockets, pulling out some crinkled bills and tossing them on the counter. 

“I could call a cab if you want ?” 

“I’m okay, thank you” he smiled at her before pushing himself up off the bar stool. He stumbled but caught himself on the edge of the bar, he headed out and took a deep breath of air. It was cold but not freezing, he wasn’t that cold considering how much alcohol he had just drank. He stumbled down the street, his hand against the wall to steady himself. 

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

A woman walked past him, she seemed oddly familiar. Maybe it was her perfume, or perhaps the way she walked, but she reminded him of someone he held close so many years ago. 

With his back up against the wall, he fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. The light from his screen was quite literally blinding him because of how bright it was. 

Her number was still there. 

After so many years, it was still there. 

Here's the thing about her, she loved Luke and Luke loved her but they never told each other that. They lost contact after he deployed but little did she know, but he thought about her all the time. When he finally got to lay down, when it was his birthday, whenever the holidays rolled around, 

his mind wandered back to her. 

When Luke returned home, he got a new phone, a different number but he somehow got to keep everything on his phone. Her number happened to be in there. 

Now he wasn’t even sure if she had the same number or if she’d even pick up. All these things crossed his mind before hitting the green button. 

Ring 

Ring 

Rin-

“Hello ?” her voice filled his ear. 

“Y/n” he whispered 

“Who’s this ?” she asked 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about me after you just walked past me princesa” 

Then and only then, did she realize who was on the other end of the call. 

“Luke ?” 

“Hi” 

“Are you okay ? Where are you ?” 

“Uh..” Luke looked around, before answering her “Main and Park, but you know that. You just walked past me” 

“What ? I’m at home” 

“No no I just saw you, y/n” 

“Luke, stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.” 

Luke didn't object, he was rather excited to see her. Luke could feel the sleepiness start to set in, he braced himself against the cold brick wall in hopes that it would wake him up. 

After what felt like an eternity, the sound of a horn startled him. His eyes snapped up to see a woman getting out her car, he blinked a few times to see y/n making her way over to him. She stood a few feet from him, she wore a pair of sweatpants and a paint covered t-shirt. She hadn’t changed one bit, she was still as beautiful as she was the day he left.

“Hi Luke” 

“Hi y/n” 

He stepped towards her, she mirrored his actions. Luke’s arms stretched out towards her before she finally closed the gap between them. 

God, it felt so good to have her back in his arms. 

“Luke, no offence but you literally reek of liquor” she stepped away from him. 

“Oh” he pouted

“Let's get you home” her arm looped around his waist helping him walk to her car. Luke stumbled his way into her car, managing to make himself comfortable for the time being. 

“What’s your address ?” she looked over at him

“Dunno” he replied 

“Can I borrow your phone ?” 

“Mhm hm” 

She reached over to get his phone, he grabbed her hand and started to fidget with her fingers and the rings on them. She ended up picking up his phone with her other hand and scrolled through to find his address. The drive to his place was short, Luke still fidgeting with the rings on her hand. 

“Alright, in we go” she got out and helped him out of the car. Luke fumbled with his keys before she took them and unlocked the door. 

The apartment was.. sad. 

There was a bed and the tv on the floor but other than that, it was empty. “Home sweet home” Luke stumbled his way to his bed, y/n shut the door before making her way over to Luke who was laying face down on his bed. Rolling him onto his back, he sat up. 

“I’m hungry and my feet hurt” he mumbled right as he fell back against his pillows.

“Take off your shoes and I'll find something for you to eat” 

You left Luke on his bed as you headed to find something in his empty kitchen. There was a loaf of bread on the counter and some stuff in the fridge that you could put a sandwich together for him. Just the smell of him alone told you he had a lot to drink and you knew he’d be sick if he doesn't eat. 

Luke’s footsteps filled your ears until you felt his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “Heyyy” he hummed with his chin on your shoulder. “Hey,” you put the sandwich together for him, his hands rubbed your hips.“Come eat” you turned and handed him the plate, he sat on the floor in front of the tv and you made your way over with a glass of water for him. 

Luke laughed along at the joke Spongebob made in the show, you smiled at him. He finished and left the plate and glass on the floor. 

Men, I tell you.

Luke made his way back to his bed, “stay with me?” he looked at you from the bed, scooting over and making space for you.

You never could say no to him. 

Luke rested his head on your stomach and pulled your hand to his hair, you chuckled. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly as you went, a satisfied hum left his mouth. 

“I didn't forget about you” he mumbled, he was half asleep so you didn’t pay much attention to his babbling. “I always remembered you. You got me home princesa” you listened to him talk. 

The steadiness in his breathing told you that he was asleep, you shifted his head onto his pillow making him groan. Your weight lifted off the bed and Luke’s eyes opened slightly before a small “stay” left his mouth. “I’m just going to the bathroom” you pushed his hair from his forehead before walking to the plate and glass Luke left. You picked them up before putting the glass in the sink, the plate was in your hand when you opened the trash can. 

There was at least a case worth of empty beer cans and a bottle or two of scotch in the trash. Your eyes shifted over to Luke who was peacefully sleeping in his bed. 

Maybe he just had friends over.

You brushed off the thought of Luke having an actual issue but the feeling of guilt hit you. 

What if something was actually wrong ? He was drunk on a Tuesday night and he didn't even realize it wasn’t you that walked past him. 

You made your way back to bed, you sat beside Luke who rolled over to you. His hair had grown out a bit, his curls were starting to show again and he looked so peaceful and so innocent right now, just like how he did when you had first met him. You could never even begin to imagine what he went through when he was away. 

Your fingers ran through his hair as he slept, your glaze focused out the window thinking about Luke and everything that had happened to bring you back to him. 

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

Something rested on his chest, his head was pounding. Luke barely moved enough to see the head of hair on his chest. His hands found the person’s shoulders, he couldn't remember if he had bought someone home from the bar last night. 

“Hey, wake up” Luke shook the person gently, not wanting to scare her. “mhm no” she groaned, clinging to his side. Her voice seemed so familiar to him, he shook her again. 

“c’mon, don't you have somewhere to be?” 

“ugh okay, I'm up” the woman groaned, finally sitting up. 

Luke took a moment to look at the woman sitting in front of him, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. 

It was y/n 

“Y/n ?” Luke had a confused expression on his face. “Morning sleepyhead” you replied, laying back beside him. 

“Wha- how did you get here?”

“You called me last night, I picked you up and drove you home. You were drunk, do you not remember ?” you glanced at him 

The memories of his half asleep confessions of never forgetting you flooded your mind. You chose not to mention anything simply because if he didn't remember calling you, he surely wouldn’t remember saying that. 

Luke shook his head before getting up. “God, I have a horrible headache” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I got it” you got up and walked to the kitchen. “Which cupboard has the Tylenol ?” you reached for a cupboard door and went to open it. By the time Luke had looked to see which cupboard was opened, you took a step back. 

The cupboard was filled to the brim with liquor, you turned and looked at Luke. “What’s going on Luke ?” he pushed the door closed, “nothing’s happening” you didn’t believe him. You knew Luke better than that, he barely drank but you couldn't blame him or jump to conclusions. You didn't know if he was going through something. 

“You should go” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

“Luke..” 

“Y/n, please.. just go” 

You looked at him, his back was turned towards you. Opening your mouth to say something, you changed your mind last minute and made your way to the door. You looked at your friend one last time, 

“I'm here if you need me Luke” was the last thing you said to him before leaving. 

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

8 missed calls and 7 missed text messages from Luke. 

From Luke: hi 

From Luke: mis yo

From Luke: y/n

From Luke: r u mad

From Luke: no be mad

From Luke: hell0

From Luke: y yu not ansrweing 

The spelling got progressively worse as they came in and he didn’t leave any voicemails, you decided to call him back. The line rang out, you got his voicemail, “Luke, it’s y/n. it’s 8:58 and I'm leaving work now, I got your texts and calls. I’m coming over to check on you. Text me so I know you're okay and I won’t come, okay ? bye” 

Your fingers tapped against the wheel as you drove to Luke’s place, every possible situation running through your mind. The last few weeks had been good, he called the day after he kicked you out to apologize, you invited him over to your place and made dinner. The two of you talked and he told you about his time in Iraq. You knew he hadn’t told you everything and you knew he wouldn't, but pushing him to talk wasn't going to do any good. 

Luke quit drinking, well at least for the last week and a half. He didn’t want to go cold turkey, and you didn't blame him, you sat with him, stayed up and talked with him, went for walks with him in the middle of the night just to distract him. 

You knocked on the front door when you arrived, no answer. “Luke ? it’s me!” you knocked again, no answer. The mailbox sat on the wall beside the door, you stuck your hand in and felt around, you pulled out a key and unlocked the door. 

“Hun? Are you home?” you called out, shutting the door and making your way further into the house. Luke’s head rested on the armrest of his couch, his hair all of the place. “Luke ?” you called once more before making your way over to him. He was asleep, two empty bottles of vodka on the floor in front of him. You sighed, your hand rested on his cheek. 

Things had been going so well, what happened ? 

“Wake up” you shook his shoulder, Luke stirred and rolled the other way, his back now facing you. “Luke get up” you shook him again, he groaned and ignored your pleas to wake up. You were starting to lose your patience, you shook him once more, he would not wake up. Deciding to leave him be, you picked up the bottles and threw them in the trash before making your way to the bathroom. 

An empty pill bottle sat on the counter, the label read temazepam in bold letters.

Sleeping pills. 

The bottle fell from your hand as fast as you had picked it up. You needed to wake Luke up now. You couldn’t believe he took them and drank, you knew he knew better than that, why did he do that? 

“Luke,” you pulled on his arm to try and get him to sit up. “Get up honey, you can’t sleep right now” you tapped his cheek hard enough to wake up but not hurt him. “Luke c’mon, please get up” you tugged on his shirt and sat him up. His back now against the backrest, he’s still asleep. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, what the hell are you going to do ? if you called 911, they would most definitely put him in a rehab program and he would never forgive you for letting that happen. 

The light from the window shined through, hitting the sink faucet, the glare catching your eye. You tumbled through the cupboard to find the biggest bowl you could and filled it to the brim with cold water. You rushed back over to Luke, not caring if it spilt all over the floor.

This better work. 

You poured the water on Luke’s chest, hoping the coldness would startle him awake. You now realized that wasn’t the smartest plan as it could have ended in his body freaking out over the sudden coldness and causing an entirely different outcome but you couldn’t bother right now. Luke’s eyes were open, his eyes still heavy with sleep. You tapped his cheek a few times to coax him out of his sleepiness. 

“Luke, honey, come on” you called out to him while helping him stand up. He started to come to, “y/n what are you doing here?” he mumbled. “You called me Luke, I found you asleep and you drank after you took your pills” you told him, dragging him to the bathroom with you. Letting him down in front of the toilet, you sat beside him, his head leaning back on your chest. 

“Come on, you need to throw up” you rubbed his back, he groaned “no” he mumbled, “don’t wanna” his eyes began to shut again. You pinched his arm in an attempt to keep him awake. You knew there was no way to get him to throw up on his own, you leaned him forward towards the toilet and did the only thing you could think of. You stuck 2 fingers in his mouth, reaching as far back as you could until you heard him gag. Luke ended up emptying the contents of his stomach all over your hand, floor and toilet. 

Luke leaned against the tub, you washed your hand off. Grabbing the towel from behind the door, you soaked it in cold water before pressing it to his head. 

“Why ?” you asked

“Hm?” Luke looked at you 

“You mixed your stuff, I know you know better. Why ?” you asked again 

“I just wanted it to stop” he leans his head against your chest. 

“For what to stop ?” 

“The voices” 

“Which ones ?” 

“The ones taunting me, I couldn't save everyone and they won’t let it go” he rubbed the side of his head. 

You didn't say anything and helped him up. Luke wobbly made his way to bed, you helped him change his clothes before getting a glass of water for him to drink. You sat beside him on the bed while he sipped on the water. “You know you can talk to me ? Right ? About anything. I know I won’t always get it but I'm here if you need to get it off your chest” 

Luke didn’t say anything to you, his eyes focusing on something other than you.  Resting your hand on his chin to pull his focus on you, he pushed your hand away roughly. “What’s wrong with you?” you asked, Luke had an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Luke what’s-” Luke’s yelling cut you off. 

“You think I didn't try to talk to you? God y/n, I tried so hard, so fucking hard. Every time I find the courage, I lose it because of you.” Luke’s expression had changed completely, you were able to see the sadness all over his face. 

“I couldn’t talk to you y/n, I couldn't bring myself to talk to you about this. I didn’t- I never wanted you to see me this way.. and I'm sorry that you had too” 

Your heart broke, your best friend sat in front of you with his heart on his sleeve and his feelings out in the open, you reached up and your hand cupped his face. “Luke, I understand okay? I would never focus you to tell me if you weren't comfortable” you told him and he nodded. He got up off the bed and went to his closet, you watched as he reached up and grabbed a box. 

Luke returned to the bed and placed the box between the two of you. Glancing at the box and then at Luke, you waited for an explanation. “These are from all the times I wanted to talk to you but I couldn’t” he lifted the lid off the box, there were at least 50 envelopes in the box addressed to you.

“I thought about you every day I was there y/n, I never forgot about you but I couldn't do that to you.” Luke whispered, his eyes focused on you. 

“Do what to me ?” you asked, your eyes on the box. 

“I didn’t send these because I knew you’d wait for me and I wouldn't let you put your life on hold for me” 

You reached for his hand, “I'd always wait for you Luke, always.” 

Luke pulled away his hand, “no. no, stop.” Your brows furrowed, “stop ?” you questioned him, “don’t wait for me. Y/n, this is the reason I didn't send them, I don't want you to wait for me.” 

“Luke, what the hell are you talking about ? it was my choice” you rebutted, earning you an annoyed look and a groan.

“Just leave” Luke looked away, avoiding your eyes, not wanting to see the heartbreak he’s caused. 

“Seriously ?” you scoffed, “you know what? This isn’t even worth it. You clearly can’t make up your mind Luke.” you stormed out, slamming the door on your way out. 

And I can't see you here, wonderin' where am I

It sort of feels like I'm runnin' out of time

I haven't found all I was hopin' to find

The window was left open overnight, a cold breeze blew through his bedroom. Luke groaned and rolled over to the other side of the bed, his arm stretched over the left side of the bed, the side of the bed where you’re supposed to be. 

His phone screen lit up, the light catching his eye. It was 5:27 in the morning, most of his night had been spent tossing and turning, rethinking the events of last night. 

The phone buzzed a few times, Luke picked it up to see messages from you. 

To Luke: I don’t know why I'm even texting, I suppose for some sort of self closure but you need to know this and if I call you, you’re just going to interrupt me. 

To Luke: I didn’t wait for you. 

To Luke: I wanted to, but I didn't. I found someone else, his name was James and he was so sweet and loving and everything I could have ever wanted in a partner. 

To Luke: Do you know what the problem was Luke ? 

To Luke: He wasn’t you. 

To Luke: After James, I promised myself the I would wait for you because you’re the only one for me 

To Luke: But it’s clear you don't want the same things as me, so that’s fine. I understand. 

To Luke: Goodbye Luke. 

Luke’s heart felt as if it dropped to his stomach after reading that. 

I was the only one for her ? God, what did I do to her last night. 

He did the only thing he could think of, he got up and headed over to your place. See the thing was, Luke had no idea where you lived. He didn't know if you moved or if you were still where you were before he deployed but he thought, at least he would be trying. 

When he arrived at the door, he knocked once but there was no answer, so he knocked again, and again, no answer. Luke began banging on the door, “y/n, please. it’s me! Open the door” 

An older woman opened the door, she looked as if she had just woken up. “Oh ma'am, I'm so sorry. I must have the wrong door” Luke said to her, she smiled sweetly at him. “That's alright dear, can I help you ?” she asked, he nodded. “Do you know the girl that lived here before you ? y/n?” 

“oh yes, she's very sweet. She stops in and checks on me” 

“Do you know where she lives now by any chance ?” 

“Uh, I don’t want to just give her address out to strangers dear” the older woman smiled at him. 

“Oh.. I understand. thank you anyways” Luke turned and headed back down the stairs. 

“Wait!” she called out to him, “Maple street, that’s all I can tell you” she said, Luke smiled at her, “Thank you” 

Luke ran down the stairs, and ran as fast he could to maple street. 

Fuck, why didn't I drive ? 

Luke walked down Maple street, his eyes looking over every driveway to find your car. There it was, 46 Maple street and you stood at your front door, your back to Luke. 

The rain began to pour out of nowhere, like a full on thunderstorm. You stepped back inside and Luke made his way across the street to your driveway. 

When you stepped back outside with your bag, Luke stood on your driveway. 

“What are you doing here ?” you asked him, he looked like a crazy person just standing on your driveway in the pouring rain. 

“You waited for me ?” he asked, his hand ran over his face to wipe the water off but it made no difference. You made your way down the steps, you stood across from Luke now. 

“I did” you answered him, you too, were now soaked from the rain. 

“I’m sorry” he told you

“For what ?” you asked, you knew why he apologized but you needed to hear him say it. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. I shouldn't have acted the way I did.” he stepped closer to you. 

You watched Luke’s movements, his hands rested on your hips, his face inches away from yours. You’re absolutely sure that anyone who looked outside must think the two of you are out of your minds to be standing in the pouring rain, just having a conversation. You didn't say anything to Luke, you had already said what you needed too. 

“Y/n?” Luke looked down at you, you looked up at him, “Luke ?” 

“I love you.” his hand cupped your face, making you look at him. 

“Luke I..” you sighed, as much as you wanted to tell him you loved him, and you did, you weren't sure if you could, well you weren't sure if you should. 

“It's okay, you don't have to sa-” 

“Luke I love you” 

Luke’s expression changed, there was now a smile on his face. “God I love you so much” Luke picked you up and spun you around, making you laugh as you clung onto him. 

“Luke put me down!” 

Luke set you back on your two feet, this time, your hand came up to his face and he looked at you. 

“I need you to promise me something Luke” 

“Anything” 

“Promise me you’ll try and quit, I know it’s hard but I promise I'll be by your side” 

Luke nodded, “I promise, only if you promise to stick with me” 

You stuck your pinky out, Luke chuckled and wrapped his pinky around you. 

“always Luke, always.” 

---- 

taglist: @aaronhotchnerr​ @mac99martin​ @aaron-hotchner187​ @tclaerh​ @luke-alvez​ @iconicc​ @lieberhers​ @pumpkin-reads​ @katexrichardson​ @thelukealvez​ @sluttytears​ @scandinavian-punk​ @haleymalaffey​ @rosesonmyheart​ @shotarosleftpinky​ @mrs-dr-reid​

[remsmoonlight]

— title : point of view

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : tomorrow is something that is never promised, less so when the dead walk the Earth. being trapped for the night when a storm pours down upon you and daryl while trapped in a decrepit house by a few walkers are you sick and tired of hiding what you feel.

— warnings : some swearing, talk of potential death ( of the reader ) , a wee bit of angst that turned into more at the end :)

note: omg another daryl oneshot i gotta chill ajksajksk, but i had like seven main bullet points i made to follow when writing this and i followed like...... two, three at the most, anyways.... enjoy? this is brought to u by ariana’s discography lmao oops it does be cute at some point tho ... also felt a bit hsm with that one line at the end ahaha but fr lemme stop talking now

      ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dark and gloomy clouds swirl over your head, blending into an extremely large and angry looking ready to descend from above. You wonder to yourself just how long you have left before the loud cracks that crumble through the air to accompany the forceful winds and pouring drops of rain are finally released. Halfway through the trip back from the town that lays after miles from the prison the car used decided it preferred to lay quietly in the middle of the road, shortly after the sickly sputters from the engine you heard Daryl mutter a few curse words. You were unable to hold in your amusement, despite the fact that a lack of transport obviously leaves you in a vulnerable position, it felt like it was your luck for that to happen to you.

It’s why you stay behind following the hunter in silence.

Studying him with focused eyes you can’t help but wonder how he never realises when you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. In the beginning when you began to develop a certain affection for him you had been glad, for it to be too embarrassing for the thoughts you had about him in your head. In spite of this, when you realised that it was much more than a crush did you wish for him to mind read, because you have no idea just how to approach him about such a sensitive topic and while he can be tender about feelings, it’s also his downfall.

“ it’ll be gettin’ dark soon, there should be some houses down there to spend the night in. “

You stop in your tracks with a curious look that bled so suddenly into your features you had no time to stop it.

“ you don’t want to carry on? I mean, we’re not far from home? “ you question him with a hint of fear coddling your words.

“ we’d be trippin’ over our feet. Let’s back it back in one piece, yeh? “

Nodding, you regain your pace. It’s been a few months since you’d been hopping from one house to the other during that harsh winter, the bare thought of having to stay in yet another frail structure sent a chilly hand drawing its claws deeply up your spine. If you never had your group, you don’t think you would have made a winter like that, barely protected from the elements and the walkers that wished to plunge their teeth cavernously into your flesh.

“ as long as we leave as soon as the sun comes up. Please. “ you plead, your words filter off into a gentle volume from your position.

Leaves crumble and buckle underneath the weight, the sound of crickets dominate your surroundings as the two of you walk in silence. You itch to start a conversation, but the fear of distracting the man and annoying withhold the words that wish to fall from your lips, even then you don’t know how to begin. What would you say? There’s not much to talk about in a world where the dead have risen, where they wish to drag the world into decomposition.

Your wandering mind is pulled from its very own depths from a noise coming from Daryl, he’d turned to catch your attention. You both set to work attempting to enter any of the abandoned houses, hoping one had been left unlocked at some point.

Of course, luck is scarce. Despite there not being a soul who occupies them, they’re still somehow locked. Mournfully, you wonder if the owners of these homes had thought the governments and armies would eventually lock everything under their control, to the point that there would be a house for them to come back to? Your heart thuds painfully in your chest to think about what happened to them, and if they’re even still surviving.

A large thud draws you back to the present, the wooden door splinters at the force Daryl puts into a large kick to its frame.

“ well, there goes the lock. “ you mutter humourously, lifting the heavy bag higher up onto your shoulders as you walk in the open door.

“ we’ll put the couch there, stop any unfriendly types that come our way. “

“ I don’t know if there’s anyone left anymore. “ you reply, dropping the bag to the floor and moving towards the couch.

Situated on the other side of it, you grip the plush handle and lift with a struggle. It’s a strain to get it through the doorway to  turn it around the corner, but eventually it happens. Daryl is joined by your presence by his side, you both push ⏤ this time it’s an easier feat with two of you on one side to dedicate your strength and weight to advance it.

As soon as you finish, a heavy crackle cuts through the air.

“ we got here just in time, huh? “

“ just about. “ he answers you, sparing a glance before moving through the lower floor ⏤ searching for anything that can be taken back to the prison.

Thunderstorms had never been your favourite thing growing up. Of course, rain was something that calmed you from the anxieties life brought, but the thunder and lightning is what you loathed. Never knowing when you were about to receive a fright from the loud rumbles and flashing lights ruined the whole experience for you.

The rustling Daryl makes is the only thing that brings you comfort in this moment, keeping you grounded and away from your thoughts. It doesn’t escape your notice that these houses feel no more than graveyards with the memories that have no use to live, instead haunting the structures with what could have been had chaos and death not taken over. You climb the stairs, hugging your sides as you refuse to touch the handrail leading up stairs.

There is a middle room with access granted without having to push open the door to gain entry. Your eyes scan the room’s interior, even with the dust and grime that bespeckle its surfaces, you can still see its beauty. Now, who does that remind you of? Your mind cheekly thinks before you banish it into the shadows of your brain, where you know it will force itself out with an immense stubbornness.

Despite the thunder booming in the distance frequently, you can’t help but admire the beauty of rain drops falling to the ground with a dainty grace only it holds. The sky continues to grow dimmer, only seeing the rain on your level and lower, no street lights flood the street to aid you in being able to see torrent from above. Jumping at another roar of sound from the storm, your heart begins to pick up its pace, so much you don’t realise Daryl joining you in the room.

“ scared? “

Turning around with such speed that leaves you surprised whiplash did not greet you, Daryl is left smirking at your reaction.

“ yeah, I hate these things. “ you respond, a bitterness coating each word heavily as you speak.

“ more than walkers? “ he questions you, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“ well, I suppose not that much .. “ another clap of thunder interrupts you, the rain beating harder and harder on the windows of the bedroom. “ can we talk about anything? This shit really grates on my nerves. “

“ what y’wanna talk about? “

Your mind stalls, with the previous thoughts that had been swirling in a state of disorder your draw a blank. A continuous thump downstairs interrupts your shrug, speeding down the stairs you realise a few walkers are trying to enter the property, of course their lack of intelligence fails to realise they’re throwing themselves into the walls and not the blocked doors.

“ shall we take them out? “ moving closer to the lengthy curtained window next to the door to get a better look, you can see three walkers hauling themselves mindlessly against the structure.

“ nah, the storm’ll get ‘em soon enough. “ he shakes his head softly, your mind taking note of the lack of proximity between your bodies as he repeats your action. “ no need to risk ourselves. “

“ wouldn’t be the first time you’ve risked your life. “

“ s’nothin. “ he contradicts gruffly, wiping a finger across his nose at your words. He truly doesn’t view it as that, refusing to think of it as risking his life. To Daryl, it doesn’t feel like risking everything to help the people around him, it’s not something he can find the words to explain but all he knows if there’s a chance, he would do it again and again.

“ Daryl Dixon, so humble. “ you speak warmly with a gentle smile threading itself into your features. “ you need to give yourself more credit. “

“ stop. “

“ you’re as brave as anyone in the group. I’d say braver than Rick. “ you joke, setting yourself from the entryway to the sitting room. “ although, if I had to choose you and Carol .. I’m sorry, but Carol every time! “

“ damn woman frightens me. “

Laughter light in weight dances airily between you with an elegance in its movement. For even a fraction of a second you forget that there are walkers that are itching to break through into the property, that there’s an angry storm that threatens to demolish whatever stands in its path, because right now it’s only you both here and now in this one room.

“ she’s come a long way. “ you agree, pulling a lone chocolate bar from your bag. Your favourite and you’re thanking the universe that it hasn’t spoiled yet. Turns out all these preservatives and chemicals have some use after all you note to yourself as half is offered to the man standing across from you.

“ so have ‘yuh. “ he acknowledges, taking the broken half of the candy from you.

“ I think we all have to be honest. I don’t think any one of us are the people we used to be. “

“ now who’s humble? “ Daryl asks, his tone light in relaxed merriment. He’d long since taken note of the transformation you’d gone through, he’s never seen you so strong as a person before.

“ don’t you turn this round on me, Dixon. “

The two of you fall silent, you direct your gaze to the window and the raindrops that litter the window pane’s surface. The harsh noises thundered no more, leaving a calm pitter of precipitation to fall with no interruption. From your position on the second couch, you wrap around a thin decorational blanket around your arms, leaning your cheek against the palm of your hand.

Pretending the world hasn’t gone to hell, that it’s just a normal evening where you’re admiring the scene before you. Skies that weep heavily is what the Georgian greenery has been calling out for, especially since the warmer temperatures have returned in full force. Switching your line of sight to Daryl, you feel a mellowness in the pit of your stomach as you watch him fondly. You can’t be sure if it’s the lack of distractions or eyes from your group, but you feel a miniscule spark of confidence within your confines.

“ come sit down, you can relax for a bit. “ you call, trying to convince him lightly. Your hand moves to pat the seat next to you.

“ can’t relax in this world. “ despite the disagreement in his words he does move towards your position on the plush seat.

“ it doesn’t mean we can’t make it. Otherwise we’d be burnt out, I’d hate to see that happen to you. “ You divulge as you reply to him, little inklings of hope in your tone.

“ y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. “

“ but I do, Daryl. “ you groan as a dull glumness contorts your features into something new. “ I mean, the lengths you go to .. you scare me to death. “

“ don’t be dumb. “ Daryl warns lowly as he shakes his head, few have shared their vulnerability with him. Perhaps only Carol, his mind can’t wrap itself around the fact that people genuinely care for him. Growing up, he’d been taught of it as a weakness. Something that should not exist, no one cared when he went missing for a short while as a child, and now having people who show him the opposite? It leaves a strange feeling to settle within his heart.

“ please, I need to tell you. I mean, I might not even be here tomorrow. “

“ nah, don’t say that. Y’will. “ he argues, he doesn’t even want to entertain the notion of not seeing you even for a day ⏤ let alone forever.

Truthfully, you’d not been particularly close. He understands it now, he pushed everyone away wherever he had the chance to. But after the downfall of the farm? You wouldn’t let up in trying to forge bonds that could rival even the strongest of metals. You had no idea, but he’d overheard you talking to Beth one day. When you said you didn’t want to be afraid of living, to have something worth dying for. That struck him deep.

“ neither you or I can guarantee that. Now, call me selfish but I can’t die with what ifs in my brain. “ you explain, you know it’s probably selfish to announce any kind of fondness for a person nowadays, because you can be ripped from their existence without any kind of announcement. But if you were to depart from the realm of the living, you’d want to have affectionate memories to experience and for them to look back on.

“ what y’sayin? “

Your eyes well up in frustration, whether it’s over the way you find the words are hiding beneath your tongue like cowards under the cloak of night or over the fact that you have begun this topic of conversation, backing yourself into a corner. There’s so much you want to say but how you should is not coming easy. Eloquence in your words is something you find yourself yearning for with all of your being should it bring you a happy ending to this discussion.

This isn’t a fairytale, there’s no happy or bad endings in real life you sorely think. There’s just reality, and the conclusions for that are neither black or white.

Fingertips grip the roots of your hair for a fleeting moment before letting go as if you’d never clutched them in exasperation at all.

Shutting your eyes so hard they hurt, you muster up the courage to speak the truth you’ve locked away in your heart, allowing it the light it has been deprived of for so long.

“ Daryl, I ⏤ “ your voice shuts off with a painful sound, sighing as if to psych yourself up. “ I feel more for you than I probably should. “

When Daryl says nothing, you open your eyes. Your entire being preparing yourself for the worse answer, this moment may hurt now but the pain will lessen. At least your soul feels lighter with the hidden information no longer chained to it as a burden, no longer will it have to be weighed down by its mass.  

“ I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “

“ who said I didn’t wanna hear? “

“ ⏤ what ? “ you question, your brows falling lower as you squint in disbelief. You wonder if your brain is forming a false memory to protect itself later on.

“ y’don’t nothin’ to do with me though. “ he hesitates, the automatic response to push away anything good that comes his way to the furthest reaches. “ nothin’ but trouble. “

A sorrowful smile full of grief clouds your features, your unshed tears threaten to fall. If only he could see himself from your point of view, he doesn’t see just how admirable of a human being he is. Yes, he has his flaws but who doesn’t? In all of humanity, you don’t think there has ever been a perfect person, but it’s how they approach their downsides that shows the peak of their humanity, that they don’t let the darkness fester in their heart, to poison their soul into becoming a shell of a kind hearted person. That shows the strength of their character.

Daryl? You feel honoured to have been a first hand witness to see him turn from a hot ball of anger to a softer, kinder soul.

“ Daryl, you really don’t see what I do.” you forsake everything, leaning forwards and laying your hands across his. Taking in the immense warmth from them. “ That? It hurts me, because you’re rather amazing. “

Saying nothing, Daryl looks down at your intertwined hands. He wants the chance that’s being offered, though the fear of being the one who poisons everything he lays his touch upon settles heavily on his shoulder. No one has come out unscarred when dealing with a member of the Dixon family, his family tree being nothing more than toxic, with weeds that wrap around the limbs of the poor fool who got involved with them, as they drag them to their lowly depths. He doesn’t know how to let go of the past and for this he continues to pay, with the high price being his happiness in the present world. No response leaves his lips, for the first time in a long time he doesn’t know what to say, while knowing what he wants to say. It’s not until he feels arms wrapped around the top of his shoulders is he brought back down to Earth, a shudder of a breath is released from him as he realises what is going on. The action is reciprocated in earnest, you’re full of gratitude that he’s accepting your comfort ⏤ knowing it could have been a gamble of a decision, a fifty fifty chance of him reacting negatively or positively. You, too, draw comfort from the position you both find yourself, clutching the other. Hope dawns on your heart, knowing Daryl is not a particularly affectionate man. This means a lot, for it’s a leap for you both.

“ thank you. “ he whispers in the night. You know that this is the start of something new.

[fatbottombucky]

Three’s Company *Ransom Drysdale x Reader*

Summary: M!Reader’s girlfriend, Ella, wants a threesome. After discovering it’s going to be with another dude you set some ground rules, a clear rule being “no gay shit!”. Despite not being gay, yourself and Ransom find yourselves intently wanting Ella to be gone throughout the fucking. 

Pairings: Male!Reader x Female Original Character/ Ransom Drysdale x Male!Reader / Ransom Drysdale x Female Original Character

Rating: [+18] Explicit 

Warnings: Internal homophobia. Threesome shenanigans, female and male oral-giving and receiving. degrading talk. Swear words. Two men wanting to fuck one another, but they can’t cause of their internal homophobia. 

Word Count: 2854

Note: There’s nothing against gays in this, lmao I am gay. It’s just mostly reader and ransom wanting to fuck but being like “we shouldn’t cause we’re straight! But I am going to look directly into his eyes as this girl sits on my dick!” 

“When you said threesome I expected another female to be joining us,” you exasperated. 

It was only a week ago when your girlfriend of eight months had propositioned you with the idea of a threesome. It had caught you off guard, nonetheless you agreed wholeheartedly. You weren’t a guy to shy away from sex adventures, you’ve seen and done plenty with women. 

It’s what made Daniella, or Ella to you, so interested in you. You aren’t exactly in her social class, she comes from old money and has a trust fund, whereas you come from- well, no money and you work everyday of your life just to scrape by. You’ve often had the thought she’s only with you to rebel against her family, bringing you along to social gatherings to cause a fuss. It’s whatever. She’s beautiful and nice, so you’re willing to go along because, hey, you’re not alone then. 

What caught you off guard was the third member she wanted, a male. You expected one of her high-class girlfriends, they’ve always had a keen interest in your relationship with Ella. Wondering why she’d be with you and for so long. 

“Hell, no.” Ella grimaces like the thought of kissing another girl is repulsive, “I’d prefer to have another guy having their way with me.” 

There’s a glint in her eyes, a playfulness. Her fluttering lashes normally work on you but not this time. 

You’re apprehensive. The photo of the man in question serves him well; sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes and a wicked smirk, he oozes some sinful confidence that you severely lack. Who even is this guy? Where did she even meet him? Had this guy been the reason all along for the threesome to be brought up? 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Ella smirks and flicks her eyes back to her phone, the picture still blindly on display. You almost snap the steering wheel off, deciding to focus on driving her Audi through the bustling New York streets. “He’s in New York right now, our families know one another and I’ve always wondered if the rumours are true about him.” 

Great. 

This guy has a reputation and she’s been thinking about it. 

“I don’t know how I feel about another guy fucking you,” you somehow get out and the way she snaps her head to you, well this is going to be a big L in your books. “Or being with a guy in this setting, so what? I thought threesomes are where we all participate but I don’t wanna be with some guy like that.” 

Ella snorts, she’s laughing at you. “How would a girl be any different?” 

“I don’t know, Ella, it just would be different.” 

“That’s so pathetic,” you roll your eyes and just stare at the road ahead, “You don’t have to do anything with him and anything I do with him you’ll be there. In fact, you can say right now if there’s anything you don’t want to happen. I just want two dicks, that’s all.” 

There’s a beat of silence. “Besides Ransom isn’t gay, so he won’t even go near you like that.” 

**

“This is so bizarre,” you muttered and shifted in your seat beside Ella. The restaurant was fancy, super expensive and elite. You had already downed half a glass of red wine-of which you expected cost more than the suit you were wearing. “Why are we getting dinner with him?” 

Ella snickered and rolled her eyes. “Good manners, babe,” voice sweet as she looks at you. 

You’d done some Googling on Drysdale when you got back to the hotel earlier. Whole family is filthy rich due to his grandfather, Harlan, famous murder-mystery writer. You haven’t read any of his books because books are commitments, more so than relationships. 

Ransom’s name pops up in headlines every few weeks; new girls hanging off his arms or some outlandish story being featured on tabloids. 

He’s not the type you’d personally hang out with, then again, Ella isn’t the usual company you keep. 

“Sorry I’m late, Ellie.” You snap your head up as Ella stands up, embracing the well-dressed man. “Traffic was shit. You guys haven’t been here long, right?” 

Yourself and Ella both speak at the same time. “No, of course not.”- “Twenty minutes, actually.” 

You’re gifted a bitchy glare from Ella as you stand up, you’ve never been one to shy away from speaking up. Rich people aren’t an exception to your patience. This makes Ransom smirk at you though, clearly not offended or peeved off by your remark. 

He shakes your hand firmly. “Ransom Drysdale, sure you’ve heard from me.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, honestly, only just learnt who you are today.” The three of you sit down and then you go silent, staring blankly at your glass of wine because what are the rules here? 

Ella had told you she had asked Ransom. So, he knows why the three of you are here. But now what? You order food and eat, wine and dine, then fuck back at the hotel and that’s it. Of course, that’s it. There’s nothing else to do, but you can’t help but think there must be more steps. Some kind of conversation that needs to happen. 

If there is a conversation that needs to happen, it doesn’t happen. Ella and Ransom are deep into conversation about ‘old times’. You sit just drinking and listening, usually how it is in your relationship. You never really have anything interesting to say to the wealthy, mostly because they wouldn’t listen anyway. 

“So Y/N, what do you do?” Ransom’s voice is smooth and deep, his face is illuminated by the candles in the centre of the table. You raise an eyebrow at the causal question, “what? I think it’s better than me asking, why did you agree to let me fuck your girlfriend?” 

You dryly chuckle and take another sip of wine, able to hold off on the question as your meals are placed before you. You contemplate and mull over his questions, either Ella hasn’t told him that you aren’t rich or he knows but wants to goad you into it anyway. 

“Well, I work a lousy job as an accountant and I’m mostly paying off my student loans from university.” Better to be truthful than stupid in front of the rich. “Before you ask, no, I’m not using my degree at this job. I studied for five years to use it for nothing. I’m also agreeing because I’m no prude, done a few things and whilst I’d prefer you be another female, I can sort of see the appeal of two dicks.” 

There’s a few seconds of just silence. Ella is volleying her eyes between you both. Ransom chews his steak slowly, eyes intently watching you and looking you over. It’s intense. You want him to stop, but you don’t look away. 

A smirk spreads across his face and he nods. “We’re going to have fun tonight.” 

**

“Splurged on the room then,” Ransom smirks as he unties his scarf, pulling it off of his neck and throwing it carelessly on the back of the armchair. “Must be nice to have the finer things,” he pats your shoulder roughly and gives you a knowing smile. 

You shrugged, the nerves being knocked away from the liquid courage you guys have consumed. “Can’t complain about the nice rooms we stay in.” You walk over to the minibar and nod, Ransom gives a curt nod. 

Ella scurries off towards the bedroom, a sultry smile of her ‘freshening up’ for the both of you. 

“She’s told you the rules, right?” You asked and poured yourself another drink, Ransom let’s out a light chuckle as he sauntered over to you. You lift an eyebrow in question, “It’s just for… boundaries really, I’m sure you understand.” 

The corner of Ransom’s mouth curls up, bringing the bourbon to his lips and taking a thoughtful sip, he’s standing close to you. Rubbing his shoulder against yours, he smells earthy and expensive, like spicy leather and musky mornings.

“I got your rules, don’t worry.” Placing the tumbler glass down. “More rules about us not doing stuff than me fucking your girl, though.” 

You looked at him hesitantly and quickly looked away, downing your own drink hurriedly. Before you can defend yourself, not that you need to, Ella calls for you both. Standing in the bedroom doorway, hip leaning against the frame and her arms crossed. 

Ella is dressed in nothing but simply lacy lingerie, that you know cost more than your rent. She looks beautiful, the lilac set matches her skin perfectly, hair is styled into a relaxed mused style- so you can play with it, you imagine. 

“Are you boys coming to join me or not?” 

That’s all the invitation you need before you’re walking around Ransom, placing your hands on her hips and pressing your lips to hers softly, she whimpers into your mouth before pulling away. Taking your hand and then extending her other towards Ransom, you chance a glance at the taller man. 

His cock sure smirks makes you look away, taking Ella’s other hand and she pulls you both into the bedroom. The big, soft, luxurious bed would do fine at handling your three bodies. 

You glance stiffly at the white sheets, well, now what? You know what to do when with just Ella but now you’re left in uncharted territory. Turning to look at the both of them once you’re stood in front of the bed, hands getting clammy for some reason. 

“Well, undressed yourselves.” Ella smirks as she sits on the end of the bed with a bounce, crossing one leg over her other, leaning back on her elbows as she looks at them. 

You start to unbutton your shirt, looking over at Ransom to see he was doing the same. You don’t take your eyes off of Ransom as you remove the shirt, letting the pale blue fabric to fall to the floor and then starting on your belt. Ransom begins to do the same, the clanging of his expensive Gucci belt is enough to numb your other senses. 

You're both down to your boxers, both black Calvin Klines. Ella raises an amused eyebrow and allows her legs to fall open. Lifting a hand and crooking a finger in a come hither motion, you follow with little relcultance. Falling to her side and pressing open mouth kisses to her soft neck. One of your hands sneaking up and cupping one of her lacy breasts, squeezing the flesh harshly as you suck at her neck. 

Ella let out a breathy moan, a sharp gasp escaping her at Ransom running his fingers over her clothed pussy. You help her sit up and unclasp her bra, allowing her perky breasts to slip free of the confines. Ransom slips the panties down her long legs before pushing her thighs apart, slotting himself between them. 

For a brief moment you are captivated by him, watching as he languidly licked up her core and wrapped his plump, pink lips wrap around his clit. The moans Ella whines out are white noise, your brows furrow together and you wet your lips. You’re about to look away but Ransom looks up, capturing your eyes in with his deep blue ones. His left eye drops down into a playful wink. 

You break out of his spell and look back at Ella, her eyes are screwed shut and her mouth is open wide, moans and groans leaving her wildly. You’re quick to attach your mouth to her nipples, already pebbled and peaked into hard nubs, lavishing her nipple with your tongue. 

“God, your mouths,” she breathes harshly. 

Time seems to meld as yourself and Ransom tease Ella with your tongues. You tease her nipples and softly bite on them as Ransom pushes two fingers into her and sucks on her clit. You both work in tandem, almost competitively, trying to see who can draw the most noises from her. 

“You sure I’m not allowed to fuck this hole?” Ransom asked punctuating the question with a forceful thrust of his fingers. 

His crude words make you shiver, a smirk pulling up on your mouth as your eyes narrow in delight. He’s asking permission, he certainly seems like the type to just take what he wants, save the consequence for whenever. 

“You think you’ve earned it?” That question throws Ransom off, it even has Ella raising her eyebrows at you but you don’t spare her a glance. Your eyes bore into Ransom’s, unable to look away like the previous times. 

Ransom grabs Ella’s ankle and flips her onto her stomach, tapping her hip and she raises them wordlessly, he gives you a questioning glare. 

“She likes it hard and deep,” you sit up on your knees, a hand softly running through her hair and gripping it tightly, “don’t hold back, Ran. I won’t be,” you pull down your boxers with your other hand and free your straining cock. 

You haven’t felt this hard in a while; you put it down to the fact this is new and exciting. You push the leaking tip into Ella’s waiting mouth, she hums approvingly around your girth. A low groan falls from your lips and you look up in time to see Ransom rid himself of his own underwear. 

A large hand is wrapped around his own cock, rubbing it lazily and, for some reason, you can’t take your eyes off of his member. Seeing him naked has stolen your air away; his whole body is immaculate and strong, truly a vision. 

You shake your head when Ella gags around your length, slowly pulling it out of her before looking up. Ransom had caught you staring at him, but instead of a disgusted look like you thought he’s wearing a curious look. An unreadable look. 

As he pushes in his impressive length he gives you a look, his hands gripping Ella’s hips tightly. The warm caven of Ella’s mouth envelopes you again, you moan loudly but you’re unable to look away from Ransom and he seems to not be able to look away from you either. 

“That’s it,” Ransom grunts as he starts to pound Ella from behind causing her body to jolt, pushing her further onto your cock. 

The force of his thrusting hips and yours into her mouth, using Ella to reach your peaks. Finding a hard and rough rhythm together. A pushing and pulling rhythm. You’re both grunting and groaning, looking into one another's eyes intensely. 

Ella’s whimpers and gagging sounds are numb to your ears, only focused on Ransom. His eyebrows are drawn together, jaw is clenched and his eyes are hard; dark and lust filled. 

“You like that?” The question momentarily makes you stutter, Ransom locked on you but Ella hums in admission. 

It wasn’t directed at her, though. 

You nod once, careful to only groan loudly and not make it seem that it’s going to be Ransom that’ll make you cum. 

“Of course, you do!” Ransom chuckles darkly, thrusting into Ella harder and grinding his cock deep into her, “fucking filthy. Dirty little whore for me, aren’t you?” Again Ella answers in whimpers and spit slicked sounds, but you have Ransom’s attention. 

“Going to cum, I can feel it. Go ahead, fuckin’ cum for me.” 

Your hips stutter deep in Ella’s throat, she gags but groans at the feeling. You cum down her tight throat, copious amounts of cum spurting out of you, a strained growl is yelled from you. Eyes being forced shut at the suddenness of your orgasm. 

Ella greedily swallows every drop, licking your cock clean as you slowly drag it out of her mouth and fall back against the bed. Beads of sweat across your forehead and chest, Ella looks at you and smiles before whining again. Ransom keeps going ramming into her harder and faster, his eyes still scorned onto you. 

You watch as Ella reaches her peak rather quickly after you, trembling under Ransom and whimpering, you sit up and cup her face in your hands. Kissing her softly before pulling away, looking up at Ransom who has his eyes shut before looking down at you. 

“Cum inside of her.” You demand without hesitation and Ransom seems to take it. 

His whole body becoming rigid and spasming, hips stilling inside of Ella as he cums deep within her walls. It’s a few silent seconds of heavy breathing. Till he pulls out and sinks back on his hunches, chest heaving and hair stuck to his forehead. 

Despite the fact you both had such an intimate moment during this, you can’t bring yourself to look at him in the eye now. Knowing you orgasmed because of him, that you likely got hard because of him. 

It’s weird. It’s odd. Ella stretches out on the bed, a low hum of approval to what just happened coming from her. 

“Give me a few minutes and we can change positions and one of you can stick it in my ass.” 

A deep part of you wished she’d fall asleep and it was just yourself and Ransom.

(Let me know what you think!!! So, yeah... I am writing a part 2 where Ransom and Male Reader get some alone time and get to... do some activities ;) but I wanted it to be like this whole weird sexual competitiveness between them with little moments of mxm - Rosalie) 

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: we have read more cuts, bitches. also iroh is the ultimate wingman lmao. enjoy this pt it is very soft and fun ~

⏎ MASTERLIST // PART I « PART II » PART III

Zuko found himself walking down the seemingly endless corridors of the Fire Nation palace. He caught sight of his reflection in a window pane and stopped to look. He quickly reached up to touch his face when he realized he no longer had his scar. The skin that was usually rough and dry and cracked was now as smooth as the rest of his cheek. His hair was longer, pulled half-up in a top knot that held the Fire Lord’s hairpiece. He moved his fingers away from his face to touch the golden flame but stopped when he heard a voice.

“Hey, over here!” the voice called. He turned and saw the familiar girl from the tea house standing at the other end of the corridor. She giggled before running off, rounding a corner.

“Wait!” he shouted, chasing after her. He was only barely keeping up, just catching glimpses of her long braid or her clothes whipping around a corner before she disappeared again. He stopped when he saw her standing still in front of a doorway, smiling. “Who are you?”

Her face immediately fell and her eyes filled with tears. Guilt squeezed his chest, making it hard to breathe. “You mean, you don’t remember me, Zuko?”

“I- I’m sorry. You’re so familiar, I just can’t place you-“ he stammered.

“You forgot me!” she roared, face contorting with anger now. He took a step back, frightened by her distorted features. “You killed me, and now you forgot me! How could you?”

“I d-didn’t kill anyone,” he whispered. The girl opened her mouth wider than should’ve been possible and let out an inhuman wail, running into the dark room beyond the doorway. Against his better judgement, he followed.

Zuko’s heart raced when he looked around and found himself in the Agni Kai room he’d been burned in. Three figures stood in the middle of the room with their backs to him, one on their knees between the other two. Cautiously, he approached. He felt sick to his stomach when he saw his father and Azula were the two standing figures. On her knees was the waterbending girl from the infirmary he’d known as a child. Ozai was holding her by her hair as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, forcing her to hold her head up.

“Let her go,” Zuko demanded. Ozai and Azula both laughed.

“Or what, Zuzu? You can’t fight both of us and protect the snow savage,” Azula purred. She crouched down and grabbed Kena’s face roughly, her sharp nails digging into her skin. Kena whimpered helplessly and Zuko felt like he’d been hollowed out. The poor girl’s whole body was trembling with fear.

“Zuko, help me. Please,” she whispered desperately. He tried to move to reach her but his feet were rooted to the spot. Ozai yanked her hair and Kena swallowed a yelp.

“Look, little girl. He’s not going to save you. In fact, he gave you to me.” He forced her head back up to make her look Zuko in the eye.

“I didn’t! Kena, please-“

“Beg, savage, and maybe he’ll help you,” Ozai snarled, throwing her onto her face at Zuko’s feet. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t move. He felt like he might fall apart when he and Kena made eye contact just as she started sobbing openly and loudly.

“Zuko, please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt me again!”

“I- I would never-“ he started but was cut off by Kena’s desperate cries as she dropped her head again. “I’m trying but I can’t move.”

She tilted her head up and suddenly she was older — the girl from the tea shop again. With a rush he realized he could move again and immediately dove down to scoop her up. As soon as he touched her, she screamed like she’d been burned and scrambled away from him, looking terrified. Ozai laughed again and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up off the ground so her feet barely skimmed the floor. She desperately clawed at his arm but Ozai was entirely unbothered. She was struggling to breathe, chest heaving while she choked and sputtered.

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher,” his father said and Zuko’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

Azula approached Kena with her hand engulfed in blue flame. The waterbender thrashed and fought but couldn’t get free, not before Azula brought her hand to her face-

“Kena!” Zuko sat bolt upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart racing. His blanket was tangled and twisted around his legs and his pillow was somehow across the room. When he realized what he’d seen had just been a nightmare, he started trying to calm himself down with deep, uneven breaths, holding his head in his shaking hands.

Kena. She was here. She spoke with him. Hell, he had a date with her in less than twenty four hours. Sana had told him that she and her mother had escaped from the palace before being executed, but he had never been sure whether or not she was lying to spare his feelings. To see her here, alive and seemingly happy... he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak to her again without blowing his cover. She didn’t seem to recognize him, what with the scar and all the time that has passed. He didn’t know if he preferred that over her knowing it was him or not.

Sighing, Zuko slipped out of bed and started to dress himself. He needed to get out for a bit and take a walk, maybe pick a fight, to clear his head. He slung his swords in their sheath over his shoulder and tied the ribbon of his mask around his head before creeping out of the apartment, careful not to wake Iroh. He wandered down the empty streets, sticking to the shadows cast by the shoddy buildings of the Lower Ring in the moonlight and slipped into small alleyways to avoid running into any late-night stragglers.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned into an alley see someone else at the other end. There stood a woman in a flowing white dress with a large black bag across her body. Most peculiarly, she also wore a mask — a black base painted with white detail to depict a smiling koi face. She cocked her head curiously as they studied each other silently. He briefly considered pulling out his swords, believing he’d found his fight, but changed his mind when he realized she didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. If she had, surely she would’ve drawn it by now.

Slowly, she nodded to him in acknowledgement before turning and disappearing around the corner. He hurried to follow but she was nowhere to be seen when he poked his head out of the alley. Maybe she really was a spirit of some sort. Ba Sing Se was certainly weird enough for it.

Kena woke up late in the morning, sunshine streaming in through her small window and directly across her closed eyelids. She sighed and turned over, burying her face into the pillow to maybe sneak a few more minutes. That, is until whoever was at the door started banging on it again like they had been when they’d woken her. She continued to lay there, listening for Fera. They knocked again. Clearly Fera wouldn’t be answering this morning. She had probably already left for her job as a maid for a wealthy family in the Upper Ring. Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her robe around her body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Spirits, just stop banging on the door before you break the damn thing!” She yanked the door open only to immediately be trampled by four raucous girls rushing into the apartment.

“Morning, sunshine!”

“Are you okay? You just left us yesterday!”

“Yeah, you looked like you’d run into a spirit or something!”

“Did he reject you for some reason? Do we need to go knock him around for a bit until he finds his sense?”

“Because we totally will.”

“Yeah, we can take that skinny kid, easy.”

Kena laughed at her friends. “Guys, it’s fine. Last night I just remembered that Fera had asked me to pick something up for dinner from the market and I’d totally forgotten so I had to hurry. Sorry I didn’t say anything, you know my one-track mind.” She went to the kitchen to put on some tea while the rest all settled down in the living room.

“But you did ask him out, right?” Jin pressed and Kena rolled her eyes, cheeks heating up.

“Yes. You guys shoved me back in there.”

The girls looked at her expectantly. “And? What did he say?” Mona gestured for her to continue, raising her eyebrows.

“He said yes,” she answered quietly and her friends immediately started hooting and hollering. “Shut up! The neighbors are gonna make a noise complaint again!”

“Aren’t you excited, Sola?” Kyali sighed dreamily, clasping her hands. “I don’t think you’ve been on a date in the entire time we’ve known you and now you’re going out with this hot, brooding, mysterious guy.”

“I bet he writes poetry,” said Oma. “Maybe he’ll write something about you!”

“You guys are insane,” Kena laughed, shaking her head. “All of you need to stop reading those garbage romance books.”

“Look, we all already know you’re Miss Independent and you don’t need a man or whatever. You can be excited about your date tonight,” Jin said pointedly. Kena rolled her eyes as she carried over the pot of tea and five cups.

“Fine, okay; I’m a little excited,” she said, pouring everyone a cup before sitting on the mat next to Mona. She was more than a little excited, but for different reasons than her friends thought. She was also incredibly nervous, unsure of whether or not to confront her childhood best friend.

Mona took a sip and smirked. “Is this jasmine?” Kena shook her head exasperatedly, hiding a smile, as her friends all laughed.

Zuko sat on the floor in front of his uncle, who by all appearances was attacking him with a small comb. He winced when the teeth pulled through another knot, grumbling.

“Nephew, when was the last time you combed your hair?” Iroh tsked as he gave another mighty pull.

“I’ve had bigger things to worry about recently, in case you forgot,” Zuko responded. Iroh sighed dramatically.

“Often, we only feel inside as good as we look outside,” he said. Zuko rolled his eyes.

“This seems like a little much.”

“It’s your first date with this girl! You need to make a good first impression.”

“I’ve already made a first impression. She knocked me over and cut her hand open.”

“And that was very kind of you to help her!”

“You kind of gave me no choice.”

“I could tell you liked her, I was just pushing you in the right direction,” Iroh said smugly and Zuko grimaced. “But you’re still working on your first impression. A first impression only ends when the relationship does.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Uncle.” Zuko made a strangled noise of protest as Iroh started slicking his hair down with some sort of slimy paste.

“I used to be very popular with the ladies in my prime. I can give you some tips, if you’d like.”

“I would not,” Zuko interjected quickly but his uncle steamrolled ahead anyways.

“First, you should compliment her as soon as you see her. Tell her she is more radiant than the first fire lily of spring.”

“Talking about fire lilies seems like a bad move,” Zuko said. His cheeks tinged pink, however, remembering the fire lily he gave her that night in the palace — the last time he’d ever seen her until the day before.

“Perhaps you’re right, Nephew,” Iroh mused, looking thoughtful. “Instead, tell her that her eyes are more captivating than a moon flower during a lunar eclipse. Or, perhaps that her presence is as warm and comforting as a fresh cup of tea on a winter night! Remember, this could be your future wife!”

“That’s enough, thank you.” Zuko stood quickly, having heard enough to be sufficiently embarrassed. “You’re going to make me late if you keep messing with my hair.”

“I suppose that will be as good as it’s going to get, then. Do a turn so I can see you properly.”

“Uncle, honestly-“

“Turn, Prince Zuko.” Exasperated, Zuko turned in a quick circle, shoulders tense as Iroh scrutinized him. “You look very handsome! But you would look much better if you smiled.” Iroh beamed as if to demonstrate and Zuko gave him a sour look. “I said ‘smile,’ not ‘scowl.’ Don’t do that in front of her.”

“I’m leaving now,” Zuko said flatly, walking towards the door.

“Be nice! Pay for dinner! Don’t frown! Stay out as late as you want, I won’t wait up,” Iroh called after him as he hurried out.

Kena felt her heart start racing when she caught sight of him outside the Pao Family Tea House, hair combed and flattened into a middle part that she had to swallow a laugh about — surely Iroh’s work.

“Hey, Lee,” she said as she approached. “You look so cute.” She laughed and she ruffled his hair. He gave her a pained look and caught her wrist in his hand.

“It took my uncle ten minutes to do my hair.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a soft smile, surprising him as she laced their fingers together. He willed himself not to go red in the face. “Come on, the festival’s already begun!”

She dragged him through the streets, talking excitedly about the food she wanted him to try and a few performers that would be on the stage in the middle of the Lower Ring later. He didn’t say much, just enjoyed her presence and the fact that she was alive and here and somehow with him. Any chance he got he stared at her, analyzing every detail of her face and comparing it to what he could remember from childhood. She still had the same medium-brown skin, dark hair, and grey eyes of course, but it all felt new and exciting again; her hair was longer and flowed freely down her back and her eyes, though still kind and sparkling, held something deeper that had not been there before. He also noticed a long, thin white scar that trailed down the left side of her face from her forehead, through her eyebrow, and down to the corner of her jaw. The thought of someone hurting her made him angrier than he’d anticipated, but he tried not to focus on it. Instead he fixated on how she was almost always smiling or laughing, how casually and comfortably she touched him when she held his hand or grabbed his arm when he made her laugh or brushed her fingers against his forehead when she put a goofy hat she’d won in a game on top of his head. It had been a long time since he’d let himself just be around someone, and it felt incredible. She was still, despite everything, so unabashedly Kena that it made his heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized her as soon as he laid eyes on her, because it seemed overwhelmingly obvious now.

Kena, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to get him to slip up. Something had happened between that night and the day before, because she saw immediately from the way he looked at her that he knew. She figured it was only a matter of time before he misstepped somewhere.

“Lee is an interesting name,” she’d mentioned casually as they watched two contortionists on stage twist themselves into impossible positions.

“I really have to beg to differ on that one,” he’d said in response.

“It’s just a very common name in the Fire Nation, you know? Before I came to Ba Sing Se, there were at least a dozen people named Lee in even the smallest villages. But oddly enough, I’ve never met anyone named Lee here except for you.”

He’d simply shrugged and said, “my village was colonized by the Fire Nation decades ago. I guess the name bled into the local culture.” She’d hummed noncommittally at that and went back to square one with a new plan.

“So, you mentioned you and your uncle traveled around a lot,” she’d started. “Why?”

He hesitated just a beat too long. “We were... uh, part of this traveling circus.” She couldn’t believe he didn’t have a better lie ready.

“Really? What did you do? Actually, let me guess.” She tapped her chin for dramatic effect as she considered something Zuko would likely be awful at. Her face split into a wicked grin. “You juggled!”

He looked at her, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, you got me. I juggled.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to juggle. Can you show me something?” She handed him a couple small fruits from a cart they were standing near, looking up at him expectantly. He looked ashen as he slowly took them from her. Awkwardly, he threw them up in the air and they flew in wildly different directions, one landing directly on his head.

“I haven’t practiced for a while.” He cleared his throat, a deep red creeping across his cheeks as she laughed.

“Ah, I understand.”

When they stopped for food at a noodle cart, she’d mentioned they offered supposedly authentic Fire Nation fire flakes. He’d nodded in acknowledgement and then ordered the blandest thing on the menu. The prince was certainly going to give her a run for her money.

Zuko didn’t understand why she kept bringing up the Fire Nation throughout the night. Did she know? He didn’t think she did. She hadn’t at the tea shop, why would she now? Did he do something to tip her off? She’d been in Ba Sing Se for many years; she most likely had heard nothing about his banishment or his hunt for the Avatar and had yet to bring up anything about his scar. He hoped that she didn’t think he was here to hurt people — surely she wouldn’t have asked him on a date if she thought that, right?

Night had long since fallen, but the streets were still bursting with light and life from the festival. He had a small grin on his face while he watched Kena start an argument with a man running some rigged betting game. She accused him of cheating and he shouted at her to leave immediately or he’d call in the Dai Li. Grumbling, Kena grabbed his hand again and stalked away. He was still smiling as she pulled him along and she sent him a (mostly) playful glare.

“What are you grinning at? I just lost ten silver pieces!” she huffed.

“You,” he responded without thinking. Realizing what he said, he quickly shut his mouth. They both flush and looked away from each other.

She took in a deep breath to regain her composure before turning her head to look at him again. “Do you want to see something cool?” There was no way he would’ve been able to refuse that excited look in her eye, even if he’d wanted to.

Zuko followed as she lead him into an alley and started climbing up a fire escape. He watched as she nimbly maneuvered herself higher and higher. “Are you sure this is... legal?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s not,” she called down to him, peeking her head over the railing, “but it’s alright! We’re crafty. Now hurry up or we’ll miss it!”

“If you say so...” he trailed off as he gripped the side of the ladder and started making his way up. When he reached the top, he found her sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the flat roof and staring at the city skyline, holding her chin in her hands. He sat down next to her and took the opportunity of the quiet moment to examine her profile illuminated by the festival lights below. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. At first he tensed but then he slowly relaxed, slowly wrapping his arm around around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the view. Well, she was taking in the view; Zuko was trying to ignore the goosebumps running across his skin from her warm breath dancing across his neck.

“Lee,” she started quietly, “I know we just met yesterday, but I think I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” he agreed, surprising himself a little. He rested his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. She still smelled the same — something fresh and pleasant and clean that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Kena was tired of dancing around what they both knew. Throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and spoke. “You know, I used to be a servant for the royal family in the Fire Nation.”

He cursed himself for the way his whole body flinched. “Yeah? How was that?”

“Terrible. I was taken from my home when I was young and kept there for years. It was just my mom and I.”

“No friends?”

“They don’t exactly let the help just make friends all willy-nilly. That’s a good foundation for a staff revolt.” She rolled her eyes. “I did have one friend I managed to make though.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, except he was the prince.”

She heard his breath hitch. “Oh. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. That’s why we had to leave, actually. Ozai found out and was not happy his firebender son was making nice with someone like me. Apparently he wanted to execute us to make some sort of point, but Ursa and the other servants helped us sneak out of the palace before we were taken to be killed.”

“I’ve heard a lot of good about Ursa,” he said softly, tenderness in his voice.

“She was a wonderful woman. There was a lot of her in the prince, too. I guess that’s why I liked them so much.” He said nothing, so she continued. “It broke my heart to leave. I never even got to say goodbye even though I pinky-promised to see him again the night before Ozai found out.” She thought for a moment. “I always wondered if he ever thought of me, because I thought of him all the time.”

“I- he did. Probably. I don’t know,” he huffed. “I mean that I think, if it were me, I would’ve thought about you every day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a long time before Kena finally spoke, smiling faintly. “You and your uncle stick out like two sore thumbs here.”

His shoulder shook under her cheek when he chuckled. “I know. I think it started out as a joke, and then we actually couldn’t think of anything better.”

She sat up straight now and cupped his face in her hands. Gently, she brushed her thumb over the rough, gnarled skin on his cheek. She wasn’t sure why, but a few slow tears rolled down her cheeks. “We match,” she said softly, meeting his eyes when he used his fingertip to trace the scar that ran down her face.

“It looks much better on you,” he joked and she gave him a watery smile. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Suddenly, she lunged at him to squeeze him in a tight hug, knocking them both backwards into a pile. “It’ll take a lot more than your awful father to kill me,” she murmured into his chest from her position on top of him. Hesitant at first, he wrapped his arms around her. It just felt so right to be with her again. He couldn’t help tightening his grip and burying his face into her cascade of hair. In the background he could hear fireworks going off, but he didn’t care about anything that wasn’t her.

“I missed you, Kena,” he said, so quietly the wind almost carried the words away. His lungs ached because her name on his lips felt like a long, full breath of fresh air after years underwater.

“I missed you too, Zuko.” Her cool skin against his warmth felt like a wave of water over the flames inside of him. He finally, for the first time he could remember since losing his mother, felt safe. He clutched at her clothes to pull her in as close as possible, breathing her in deeply. She smelled like the first monsoon after a lifelong dry season; she smelled like petrichor.

A/N:

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito @dancerslovelife @justab-eautifulmess

[kuiinncedes]

guess who keeps writing random quinntina drabbles in completely unrelated aus and refusing to expand on any of them :D so yeah i wrote a shadowhunters!quinn and tina thing (that i actually might expand on bc i was working on a klaine shadowhunter thing and it’s not super different or anything ANYWAY) idk if i need to explain shit to make it easier to understand or anything but here’s some explanations :P

shadowhunters = demon killers born with angel blood, they draw runes on themselves to do things like heal or give extra agility, strength, etc. also shadowhunters usually have compound last names it’s a whole thing but i kept their last names anyway it doesn’t matter lmao

iratze = healing rune, when a shadowhunter uses one it heals them :P

parabatai = platonically bonded shadowhunters basically, and runes given to someone by their parabatai are sometimes more powerful

Behemoth demons = gross slimy demons with like a giant mouth or something and they’re really hard to kill bc they reform and stuff lol

witchlight = a stone that shadowhunters can use that lights up when they hold it

and i think that’s it, if anyone reads this lol and is confused about any of the shadowhunter aspects feel free to ask me about it :P

also kinda took some things from this prompt list that came across my dash - “you’re bleeding” and “There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow your close.” idk it doesn’t really stick to that tho

oh but yeah that means there’s description of blood and stuff not a lot at all and it’s not graphic or anything but yeah just fyi :3 

ANYWAY YEAH I KINDA REALLY LIKE THIS LDFJSLFJ maybe one day i’ll stop adding this random stuff at the beginning of the ficlets i post lol

---

“You’re bleeding.”

“News flash, Fabray, we’re Shadowhunters. It happens.” Tina rolls her eyes, then returns to scanning the surroundings for the Croucher demons that just disappeared. “I can’t believe I got stuck on a patrol with you,” she grumbles.

Quinn scoffs. “I’m not too happy about it either, hon.” She rubs her forearm, bare to the chill of the night air, and examines the wound on Tina’s leg, as best as she can given the distance between them. The blood has already soaked through her gear, the material itself slashed viciously halfway up her thigh. “Let me give you an iratze, at least. It looks bad,” she says, trying to keep the biting in her tone to a minimum. It’s hard, though, around Tina. She thinks she at least succeeds at not sounding like she’s actually going to kill Tina if she gets close.

Tina looks at her with an indecipherable expression, somehow different than the contempt and anger that she usually directs at Quinn. “It’s fine, we don’t have time for that. Mercedes can do it when we get back.” Tina seems to swallow, then looks away. “You know, being my parabatai, it’ll be a lot better than anything you could do.” The insult doesn’t carry half the heat of anything Tina usually says to her, which confuses Quinn. But she doesn’t have time to think on it when Tina’s eyes widen at some point behind her and Quinn whirls around with her seraph blade to meet the dark face of a demon, Tina coming up beside her, stabbing one demon and effectively causing another to vanish with a perfectly-thrown dagger.

Try as she might, Quinn can’t ignore just how insanely good of a Shadowhunter Tina Cohen-Chang is. And it annoys the fuck out of her.

Together they easily kill the demons in the group -- Croucher demons are not the brightest by far -- and Tina is retrieving a dagger from the ground when Quinn sees them. 

Three Behemoth demons, moving sluggishly, and not towards them, but they are going to have to take care of them. 

“What the fuck are Behemoth demons doing in a group…?” Quinn mumbles. They need help for this; no matter how exceptional of a Shadowhunter Tina is, and although Quinn is far from bad herself, two Shadowhunters can’t take on three Behemoth demons. 

“Fuck,” Tina whispers, coming up beside Quinn again. She can’t help but notice how Tina’s dark hair has fallen out of her bun a little, messy strands surrounding her face but of course she still looks so good --

“How do you feel about Behemoths, Fabray?” Tina says quietly, her tone challenging. They’re still just watching the demons, who haven’t done anything yet and have given no indication that they’ve noticed the two Shadowhunters.

Quinn scowls, “Hate them.” Which is an understatement. She and Kurt had a terrible experience with one a few years ago and she prefers not to think about it.

Tina nods. “Same.”

Of course, one of the demons finally turns their way and spots them. “Fuck, we gotta run,” Quinn hisses. She can already see that the demons are dispersing their slimy, disgusting bodies -- she really doesn’t like Behemoths -- to reform somewhere else, no doubt somewhere significantly closer to where they’re standing --

Or behind them. Quinn is yanked sideways by Tina and they sprint down a small road, dark but for the dim street lights reflecting off the wet asphalt.

It doesn’t take long for Quinn to notice something is wrong. She hasn’t patrolled with Tina before, but she’s trained with her, she knows Tina is somewhat faster than her. So why isn’t Tina way ahead of her right now… 

Quinn spares a glance over and right, her leg. Before Quinn can think about it, she’s pulling Tina into a small alley off the side of the road. 

“Shit,” Tina breathes, clenching her jaw and leaning against the wall in this really very narrow alley, they barely have enough space for the two of them, each against one of the walls -- 

Quinn looks at the wound on Tina’s thigh and hisses, “You idiot. You should’ve let me put a damn iratze on you, or you should’ve done it yourself, Angel’s sake -- ”

A Behemoth slides past, dispersing and quickly reforming further up the alley. The other two follow close behind. Quinn presses herself into the shadows of the alley, lessens her breath and tries to force her heart to stop pounding so loudly. She doesn’t think Behemoths have a sense of smell, she’s never learned that, but if they do, she and Tina are screwed and she will need to have a little chat with her demons instructor Will Schuester because this would not be a good time to find that out.

The demons pass. Quinn lets out a slow breath. 

“Lost my stele.” Tina’s breath is coming in shallow gasps; Quinn can tell she’s trying to minimize the sound. The gash on her thigh is way deeper and longer than Quinn realized. It’s hard to see anything with the lack of light in the alley and lack of contrast between Tina’s blood on her skin and the black gear she’s wearing.

“Fuck, do you have a witchlight?” Quinn asks. 

“No.” Tina’s muscles are tight and her body is wound. “It doesn’t matter right now. Call the Institute, we need someone to get rid of those Behemoths.”

Quinn wants to argue, wants to ask Tina if she’s seen her leg, but Tina’s right, infuriatingly. She quickly presses the number for her parabatai on her phone while Tina closes her eyes, resting her head against the brick wall, seemingly trying to calm her breathing.

“Quinn!” Kurt exclaims when he picks up. “What happened? Mercedes said she felt something happen to Tina and you guys have been out longer than you’re supposed to -- ”

“We’re fine,” Quinn interrupts. “Tina’s mostly fine, just a nice cut from a Croucher. We ran into some Behemoths though, need someone to take care of them.”

Kurt groans. “Of course you guys ran into Behemoths.” There’s some faint talking in the background -- Quinn can make out Mercedes demanding to know where her parabatai is, some other voices chime in that she can’t recognize. “Okay, luckily Mike’s here and he can go try to magic them away or whatever he does. Beiste is going with him. Mercedes and I will meet up with you and Tina. Send me your guys’ patrol location.”

“Don’t you know it?”

“Yes, but send it to me anyway,” Kurt says, exasperated, but Quinn can tell he doesn’t really mean it. “Okay? Be careful.”

“Always am.” She ends the call and shoves her phone back into her pocket. Then she remembers Tina, who’s sitting against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her and looking exhausted. 

“Here,” she says, finding her stele and holding it out to her. Tina gives her a half-smile and accepts it. She rolls up her jacket sleeve to draw the rune on her forearm, flowing black lines of the iratze stark against her skin in the dim light. 

“Kurt and Mercedes are coming,” Quinn says. “And Mike and Beiste for the demons.”

“Good, saves me from more time with you,” Tina mumbles halfheartedly.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Let me help,” she says, kneeling down and reaching for her stele. “It will work better closer to the heart -- ”

“I’m fine,” Tina says hurriedly, leaning away from Quinn slightly. Quinn ignores the slight disappointment she feels at that and exclaims, “Are you serious? Your leg is still pouring blood, you can see that, right?”

Tina swallows. “I don’t want you that close to me.” Her voice is resigned, quiet and Quinn can barely hear her.

“Again, are you serious? What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Quinn knows she shouldn’t be getting angry, especially when they don’t know how far the demons are and they could hear her raised voice -- can Behemoth demons hear? Mr. Schue really didn’t do a great job in their demon education -- and come back to finish them off.

“Quinn, just�� just don’t.” Tina rolls her stele back towards her. “Thanks for the stele.”

“No, I want to know! I want to know what the fuck I did to make you treat me like this, because I sure didn’t ask for it.” Quinn is seething now, unable to stop even if she tried. “When we were kids you were okay, but ever since the Shadowhunter Academy you’ve been such an asshole to me, and now you can’t even let me near you to help you, to put a fucking iratze on you -- ”

“I have feelings for you!” Tina yells, effectively shutting Quinn up. Quinn looks down at her in surprise. 

“What -- ?”

Tina puts her head in her hands, running them through her hair and pulling out her bun, her shining black hair spilling across her shoulders. “I… can’t let you near me because… I’m scared,” she says softly to her boots. “I’m scared of what my feelings mean when you get close to me and I want to kiss you so fucking badly... I want to be with you. I -- I realized that at the Shadowhunter Academy when I saw other girls kiss each other and I just,” she shakes her head. “I realized I want to do that with you. And I know there’s no chance for that, I get it. But that’s why I’ve been... mean.”

Quinn stares at Tina, jaw dropped open. Tina meets her gaze for a moment, then averts her eyes and smirks slightly, sadly. “It’s fine, Fabray. I’ll stop being an asshole and you don’t have to talk to me again. Except, you know, when Kurt and Mercedes want us all to hang out, but I’ll stay away.”

Quinn wants to say something -- wants to say no, I don’t want that, when the alley floods with light and she turns to see Kurt and Mercedes, the light coming from a witchlight stone in Kurt’s hand. 

“You know,” he says, smiling, “you could’ve come out after the demons left, would’ve made it easier for us to find you.”

-

Quinn makes her way through the unfamiliar halls of the Columbus Institute. She has a vague sense of where she’s going but she doesn’t live at the Institute so she’s still a little disoriented. But she mostly tries to follow the sound of voices and sure enough, it leads her to the library, where Mercedes and Tina are huddled together over a book, talking and laughing with each other. She watches them, quietly, awkwardly, for a second, then Tina turns and spots her, smile faltering a little.

“Hey, Quinn,” she says softly. Mercedes turns too and waves at her.

“Hey, guys,” Quinn says. She swallows. “Um, could I talk to Tina for a second?” Mercedes shoots Tina a look. She nods back and Mercedes pats her hand and leaves the library, and now Quinn and Tina are alone.

“How’s your leg?” Quinn asks, deciding to stall.

Tina smiles a little, walks up to her. Her hair is in braids today. “Good as new. Tends to be the case after a few iratzes.”

Quinn nods. “Good.”

A moment passes, then Tina exhales and says, “Look, Quinn… I’m really sorry about what I said in the alley. I… can’t say I didn’t mean it, but I promise I won’t act like anything’s different, okay? We don’t even have to talk about it -- ”

“I want to talk about it.”

Tina stops. “You do?”

Quinn runs a hand through her hair. “You meant what you said?”

A slow nod from Tina, and a deep breath from Quinn.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Quinn says, gaze fixed on the floor between their feet. “I think I feel the same.”

“… what?” 

“I want to kiss you. If you’ll let me.”

At some point, they’ve gotten closer, and now Quinn stands right in front of Tina, their faces almost touching. She barely has to move to press her lips to Tina’s. Tina inhales sharply, but then relaxes and her hands flutter up to lightly cup Quinn’s face as Quinn pulls her closer.

They pull away and Tina laughs slightly, breathlessly.

“Does this mean you still hate me?” Tina asks, her dark eyes sparkling, pupils dilated. Their breaths mingle in the lack of space between them.

“Of course,” Quinn murmurs. “Do you?”

“Why would I like you?” Tina tries to say, grinning, but she’s cut off by Quinn’s next kiss. 

And another, and another.

[joon-ipersgirl]

O4 - “serendipity”

genre: strangers to lovers!au, angst, fluff

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

summary: they say home is where the heart is. you’re convinced yours was taken the day your father died. until you meet jimin. 

you believe in love but after watching men cycle through your mother’s arms, rocky relations with ex-boyfriends, and broken friendships, you no longer see it in your future. so much so, you never settle in one place long enough to create ties and call it home, choosing a job where you’re always on the go and on your own. 

on a chance encounter on a flight from new york city to bali, indonesia, you meet. flustered by jimin’s flirty advances but understanding and good-natured tendencies, you start to fall. what starts off as a work-trip soon blossoms into a budding romance, but will jimin’s secret destroy the relationship before it’s had the chance to truly begin?

word count: 5.5k

warnings: cursing, lots of fluff lol

a/n: part 4 wow! this is my favorite part i’ve written so far. it was a little difficult to edit but we made it. i hope you guys enjoy it. it might be a while before the next part is posted because i have to finish writing and i’ve had major writer’s block lmao, but i’ll try and update my updates page as often as i can. thank you guys for your comments and likes. as always, they are very much so appreciated. thank you to vi for listening to me rant about my stories. enjoy everyone!

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

Jimin looked drained by the time his conversation was over. His hair was out of place from the numerous times he had run his fingers through it out of frustration. Even his eyes looked like they had lost their usual glimmer, instead clouded with anger and exasperation. Though you hadn’t known him for long - in fact,  you’re sure it had really only been 40 hours - you knew something was wrong from the downturn of his lips.

“Ready to go?” Jimin asked as he shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Is everything okay?” you asked as you stood and pocketed your own phone, your own happiness taking a backseat to check on him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and looked away from you. “Just some stuff back home.”

“Work stuff?” you suggested with a wry smile. He returned it.

“Yeah, work stuff,” he said with a laugh.

As you headed back in the direction of the hostel, your thoughts drifted back to Milo. Seeing his photo made your heart pound in your chest in the best and worst way possible. He still looked like your little brother, but you knew time had brought changes you weren’t around for. Though Adele said she had given him your number, it was quite possible that he wouldn’t want to speak to you, not after you left him at the worst possible time. It would be a miracle if you could fix what was broken. What you broke.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You blinked up at Jimin.

“I asked if you were hungry?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Food sounds good right now,” you replied.

“Great, because I owe you a meal anyway,” he grinned.

“Oh, you mean for not finding me breakfast at 2:30 in the morning?” you teased. He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that,” he mumbled and slipped his hand in your as he tugged you through the streets of Hong Kong.

Jimin maneuvered through the bustling crowd with ease, their chatter filling the spaces between you. The evening was still as hot as the daytime and your hair started clinging to the side of your face. You knew there was a fine sheen of sweat present on your skin; you could feel it. You passed by numerous food places, but none of them were up to Jimin’s standard. All the while, his hand never left yours. You were actually starting to like it even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

“Yeah, this looks like the spot,” Jimin commented as you stopped abruptly in front of the establishment.

Mingsu’s was a quaint little restaurant nestled between some larger chains. Four sets of plastic tables and chairs sat on the sidewalk under a clear awning. The smell of food wafted from the open front door and your stomach grumbled. Yeah, this was definitely the spot.

“Your seat m’lady.” Jimin pulled out your chair and you sat carefully in it; these were the kind that would lay you on your ass and not think twice about it.

“Why thank you, kind Sir.” You bowed your head as a lady would curtsy. He sat across from you looking like he really could be the son of a mighty Lord during the Anglo-Saxon time period come home from the hunt, his hair sticking to his forehead.

It didn’t take long for your waitress, a middle-aged woman who looked to be just as hot as you were, to come and take your order. You listened in awe again as Jimin translated your orders. To think that it would be just your luck to be stranded in a foreign country with a man who also happened to speak the native tongue. God really looked out for you here and you couldn’t be more indebted.

“So how exactly did you learn to speak Cantonese?” you asked, swirling your straw between the ice cubes in your glass full of water, the condensation sliding down the sides. Your curiosity had finally gotten the best of you.

“My dad, actually. He taught me Korean and Cantonese simultaneously,” he replied, sipping on his Coke. “It wasn’t that fun in the moment, but I guess it comes in handy every now and then.”

“Like when you’re stranded in a foreign country because your plane got fucked up?”

“More like when you want to impress a pretty girl.” He grinned as he rested his chin on his palm while he stared at you. You blushed under his gaze.

“I can only imagine how flirty Mr. Park senior is,” you said with a laugh.

“Actually, he’s not. All the traits of me you find quite insufferable -” he added air quotes around the word “- are from my mom. Dad always thought we were ganging up on him when I was a kid, but Mom and I just have the same sense of humor,” he said with a shrug.

“Your mom and you are closer then I assume?” You couldn’t fathom being close with Adele, not after all of her shit, but it was nice to hear that someone enjoyed their mother’s company.

“As close as you can be when she lives 4,242 miles away,” he chuckled. You gasped. Before you could continue your conversation, your waitress returned with your roasted pork buns, stir-fried beef and flat noodles, steamed sticky rice, and an array of side dishes. Your mouth watered at the sight and you and Jimin wasted no time tucking in.

“Wait, I thought you were a vegetarian?” you asked after swallowing. Jimin glanced up at you with a mouth full roasted pork bun like a deer in headlights.

“Not really. Well, I guess that isn’t correct. I do my part to reduce my meat intake when I’m at home, but when I’m traveling, I like to indulge a little in the local delicacies of the world,” he answered.

“And that doesn’t fuck your stomach up?” You grimaced at the thought.

“Why? Are you worried about me?”

“No, I’m worried about that cramped bathroom we have back at the hostel.” Jimin laughed. “Especially if you decide you need to -”

“I promise you Y/N, I’ll be okay. Trust me.” you continued to eye him warily as you chewed some noodles. You hoped he was right.

“Does your mom really live 4,000 miles from you?” Jimin nodded but told you to hold that thought as he called your waitress over. Throughout their brief conversation, you thought you heard the word ‘sake’ being mentioned and you panicked slightly at the thought of drinking with Jimin. You didn’t know how you would act. Hell, you weren’t sure how he would act if drunk words were sober thoughts.

“To answer your question, yes. She does. She lives in the United Kingdom. Has done for the past 11 years. We text a lot and talk on the phone whenever the time difference permits.”

“Wow, your parents must love it there!” you exclaimed, picturing the London Eye, the double-decker red buses, and Buckingham Palace. London had been on my list of places to travel for a long time, but it had never worked out.

“Mom does, Dad didn’t. He’s back home now, home being Korea. No, they aren’t divorced or separated,” Jimin said, answering your unasked question after noticing your wide eyes. “They have a long-distance relationship and fly out to see one another every couple of weeks.”

“Sounds expensive,” you muttered.

Jimin graciously accepted the teapot and two porcelain white cups your waitress brought over, somehow finding space for them in between the various plates. He poured you a full cup and pushed it in front of you, waiting for me to accept his challenge as he raised his own glass, his usual mischievous glimmer back in his eyes. You carefully picked it up and watched the wispy tendrils of steam evaporate in the air.

“Sip, don’t toss it back,” Jimin guided you. “A toast! To friendship. And to love,” he tacked on playfully. You smiled as you clinked glasses and sipped the clear rice wine. Though it looked like water, it definitely didn’t taste like it.

“And it is expensive,” Jimin continued. “But they do it because they love each other.  I guess you could call it an unconventional marriage. They realized they work a lot better apart than being in the same space. They tried to do it the traditional way, Dad convincing Mom to move back to Korea with him while she was pregnant with me and the two of them getting married. She did it for a while too until she just physically couldn’t. She loved my Dad, but she loved herself enough to be honest with him when things weren’t working and they figured it out together. Now, they’re extremely happy,” he ended with a laugh and finished the remainder of his drink.

“So you were born in Korea?”

“Yes.”

“But you live in the United States?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I just -”

“Is it because I don’t speak in accented English?”

“No!” you cried out in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant at all!” Jimin’s unrestrained laugh rang out and it was only then that you realized he was teasing. Again. You tossed back the rest of my drink, unsure of whether your face was burning because of the alcohol or him.

“Relax, Shutterfly. I’m not offended. Dad took me to the U.S. after Mom moved back to the U.K. I lost my accent when I got to high school because you know, teenagers suck and they like to bully you when you’re different.” You nodded in complete understanding. The harsh whispers of girls older than you and with the memories of them shoving you onto the ground because you were smaller and looked like you were easy to pick on trickled down from the deep recesses of your mind. “Enough about me though,” Jimin said as he refilled your cup, “How about you? What’s your family like?”

You paused as he waited for you to answer. You toyed with how much you would say to him, how much he really deserved to know. Jimin could afford to be open with you; his family sounded normal, cool even. Your family was a little bit more fucked up than his. you sighed and pushed your fingers through your hair.

“You know, the usual. Dad’s dead, mom’s a bitch, brother hates me,” you replied, your words blending into one another as you waved off the subject with a hand. Jimin stared at you evenly as he processed what you had just said. He cleared his throat before asking if you wanted to elaborate.

“Not really, but it’s okay,” you answered.

“No, Y/N,” he placed his hand on top of mine. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Seriously, it’s cool. It’ll probably do me a lot of good to finally let it all out,” you said with a sigh. “My parents’ love story isn’t like yours. I mean, it kind of started off the same, but it definitely didn’t end that way.” Jimin nodded as he chewed in silence. Your own plate was now left untouched.

“So my dad named me. I was his little girl, his princess. He wasn’t from the best side of town and often got into it with a lot of the local gang members. He saw a lot of shitty stuff and so he left as soon as he turned 18. He landed in California and that’s where he met Adele. Her family had just moved there and she decided to be rebellious and hook up with my dad, acting out because she didn’t want to leave her old life behind. She ended up pregnant with me 2 years later at 18 after they ‘fell in love’,” you said, adding the air quotes around the phrase.

“Being the honorable man that he was, he decided to marry my mother and moved her to New York where he thought he could take better care of her. More job opportunities as and what not. Two years later, my brother came along and things were going pretty good, except when Adele started demanding more and more shit. Dad tried to provide, working longer hours, but it was never enough. Eventually, it was too much. He died of a heart attack when I was in high school. I was sixteen,” you finished. You didn’t look at Jimin as you drained your sake.

“Thank you for sharing that with me even though you didn’t really want to. I appreciate it,” he said solemnly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“No, it’s fine. Only fair.”

“I don’t think fair is in this equation,” he chuckled and you laughed along with him. “Why do you think your brother hates you?” he asked after a beat.

“Because I left him,” you responded. “I left him alone and ran away from all my problems as soon as I turned 18.” Regret bubbled in your chest as you remembered purposefully ignoring the wave of text messages he sent you and carried on with your new life, focusing on your new man.

“I don’t think he hates you, Y/N.” you laughed bitterly. “Where’d you run away to?”

“California.”

“You sound a lot like your dad,” he replied with a smile. “Viva la revolución right?”

You groaned and covered your face in your hands. “Please don’t tell me you speak Spanish too.” you muttered a string of curses in the language before clamping your hands over your mouth in case he could hear and understand you.

“I don’t, but I see you do. You never told me you could speak Spanish,” he commented as he sipped more sake.

“You never asked,” you teased, your smile humorous as you stared at him from over your own cup.

Jimin’s cheeks had a pretty pink hue from the alcohol. In addition, the alcohol seemed to amplify the gleam in his eyes further as he teased you throughout your conversation. Under the low lighting of Mingsu’s, his skin glowed, a thin sheen of sweat present that you found oddly attractive on him. You closed your eyes gently as you willed the troublesome thoughts away. This was not the time nor the place for them to pop up, not with more than a few ounces of sake under your belt.

You finished the rest of your food, Jimin eating much more than you, and chatted more. You found out he was a freelance museum curator that was under contract for a few different small museums in New York City. A huge downplay on his part, but it explained how he knew so much about art and had all these artsy friends. He was well-educated with a Masters in Fine Arts, a concentration in Art History, and you felt intimidated as you’d barely managed to scrape together an Associates degree.

“Hey look!” Jimin turned his phone screen to you after it chimed. “Looks like we really are leaving tomorrow. Joy even got us seats next to each other like she promised,” he said.

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, remembering Joy’s enthusiasm over Jimin.

“What was that?” he asked as he cupped his ear with his hand.

“I said ‘Yay! Joy managed to get us to sit together. How fantastic. Now we can sit together again’,” you lied with fake zeal.

“Hmm. That’s what I thought you said. Though for a minute there I thought you were jealous of the attention I was getting from other women.” You could tell the nonchalance in his voice was just as fake as the enthusiasm in your own.

“Me? Jealous over you?” You snorted at the thought. Jimin held his chest, his face falling in a look of fake disappointment.

“Damn Y/N, all you had to do was say you didn’t like me -”

“I never said that!”

“Ah, so you do like me then?” He wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned across the table.

“I never said that either!” you giggled and pointed your finger at him. He pretended to bite it and you pulled it away squealing. Jimin laughed at your reaction as the waitress came over. He pulled out his wallet and you scrambled to take out your own until you realized you’d left your own wallet back at the hostel. You blanched.

“Jimin I can’t let you pay for all this!” The mountain of empty plates a reminder of just how much you had eaten.

“Of course you can,” he said as he handed over his card. You scrambled for something to say, to make him return his card, but it was already too late. You shook your head furiously.

“I can pay you back, seriously. This was a lot of food. And then the drinks!” you squeaked. Alcohol was expensive and you had consumed two full teapots of sake. “Please, Jimin,” you begged.

He held his ground as he signed the check and the waitress began removing the dirty dishes. “Absolutely not, Shutterfly. I still owe you an actual breakfast and think of this as me showing you what it’s like to be wined and dined. Mr. Park senior taught me never to let a woman pay for a meal, and I won’t start now, especially not with you.” He stood up and came to stand in front of you, holding his hands out as if he knew you could potentially wobble from the alcohol flowing through your system. “Let someone take care of you for once, yeah? Let me take care of you.”

You stared up at him, surprised at his words. It had been a long time since you’d heard anything like that. It had been a long time since you had let anyone come close to caring for you, determined that you would do it for yourself. Jimin was truly worming his way under your skin and you didn’t like it. You closed your eyes at the thought of Jimin really being there for you and it shook you to your core. Letting out a shaky breath, you placed your hands gently in his as he helped you to your feet, accepting his offer. On one condition.

“Only for tonight,” you whispered into his chest, not daring to look up into his deep brown eyes, but he forced you to as he dragged his lips tenderly against the back of your knuckles.

“Okay,” he agreed. His eyes never left yours and you started to squirm under his intense gaze. He pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm. “Come on, I want to show you something,” he whispered into your hair as if the words were a secret only meant for the two of you. A shiver ran down your spine as his lips brushed against your temple though you were hotter than before from the alcohol in the humid night.

Jimin took you down the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, pressing you close to him as you walked along leisurely. Little street vendors lined the sidewalk selling sweet treats that made you wish you hadn’t eaten as much so you could try one. You inhaled the scent and tried to commit the smell to memory, wanting to always remember how untroubled you felt though so many things had gone wrong, wanting to really remember how many things had gone.

“We’re here,” Jimin said excitedly and removed his arm from around your shoulder, settling for just holding your hand. You immediately missed the warmth of being against his side.

Here was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and lounge called Switch!. Its outer brick walls contrasted with the smooth window panes of the establishments next to it. A heavy wooden door rattled as the thumping bass echoed off it. There were a few stragglers standing outside smoking cigarettes as they laughed and joked with one another. Jimin turned to you and grinned, excitement etched across his features.

“Jimin,” you said with uncertainty. “It’s getting kind of late,” you trailed off.

“It’s only a little after ten, Y/N. Come on. This place is really cool,” he insisted. You chewed your lip, not sure whether you could make it a minute longer. Between the alcohol in your bloodstream and the cigarette smoke starting to swirl in your lungs, you were feeling a little out of your element. “Please, Shutterfly,” he pouted. “I promise to have you back home by midnight and before your carriage turns back into a pumpkin.” You rolled your eyes but remembered Michael’s words about enjoying the moment.

“Fine,” you huffed and pulled open the hefty door. Jimin followed closely after.

Switch! resembled your favorite grunge dive bar. It was extremely dark, the only source of lighting being a few strips of LED lights lining the floor and ceilings, and some weak yellow light bulbs. The bar itself was long and made with beautiful redwood that somehow managed to shine in the dim lighting. An extensive alcohol collection sat on the numerous shelves behind the bar. Next to it was a corkboard that was nearly filled with little polaroid pictures of previous patrons. A live band was the source of the thumping bass you had heard outside and you let it wash over me, vibrating the very core of your bones. It seemed like Jimin had a knack for choosing great places.

The two of you headed over to sit in one of the small booths, a waiter appearing immediately to take your order. Jimin asked for two sake bombs to start you off, something about keeping the trend of the night, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the rickety wooden table. You watched him start to lose himself in the music as he kept time with the beat, his head swaying slowly. His posture exaggerated the broad expanse of his back and you stewed silently behind him, almost cursing his parents for creating a man as attractive as this. You crossed your legs at the knee.

Your waiter returned with your drinks and Jimin yelled a thank you over the loud music. Internally, you were grateful that it was too loud for you to continue your conversation as you were sure Jimin would continue his fervent flirting and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Not after accepting his offer of letting him take care of you for the night. You took a large sip of the alcoholic mixture. Jimin leaned back and turned his head to you, his hand resting on your bare thigh.

“Do you like it? Are you having fun?” he asked loudly. You winced as his voice pierced through your eardrum.

“Yeah! This is cool. The band is really good!” you yelled back and he grinned, his smile a little lopsided no doubt from the alcohol. His eyes continued to sparkle as he stared down at you. With his hand on your thigh and his face seeming to move closer, all the air felt like it was sucked out of the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as his eyes drifted down to your lips -

“Excuse me?!” Your head snapped around to the individual yelling at you just as Jimin had closed the distance between you, his lips brushing the corner of yours. You could feel his lips stretch into a smile against your cheek as his nose pressed into your skin. You were quite positive he could feel the burn radiating off your cheeks. “Would you guys like to take a picture for our polaroid wall?” the man yelled again. In his hands was a teal polaroid camera.

“Is it free?” you yelled and tried to create some distance between you and Jimin. The photographer laughed and nodded his head.

“Can we get a copy of them to keep?” Jimin asked.

“Sure! I can take a few extra for you guys,” he replied with a shrug. “You guys ready?” Jimin nodded and slipped his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip with the other still resting on your knee. He smushed your faces together as the first picture was taken. The photographer took an additional three more after determining your smile wasn’t wide enough in the first one.

“I’ll leave these with you to develop. When you choose the one you guys want us to hang up, just drop it off at the bar. Thanks again!” He disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom!” You didn’t wait for Jimin to respond as you eased your way out of the booth and scurried off.

Locking yourself into the single-stall restroom, you tried to catch your breath. You and Jimin had nearly kissed. It wasn’t something you’d dreamed about in an alcohol-induced haze. He had really leaned in like he wanted to kiss you. You pressed your hands to your face to stop the smile from bursting across your cheeks. You covered your face with your hands as you recognized the familiar tick in your chest. A crush. You giggled to yourself as you pushed your hands through your hair. You had a fucking crush on Park Jimin and you were a teensy bit okay with it. A knock at the door burst your bubble of revelation and you quickly washed your hands, apologizing to the other woman as you slipped by her.

“So I think we should give this one to them,” Jimin suggested, pushing the four photos over to you as you sat beside him again. He was pointing to the second one of you where we were both grinning like mad men as he had pressed his face against your own. “The other ones are too cute.”

He was right. The third was Jimin kissing your cheek and you covering your mouth in shock at his actions. The final one was him smiling into your cheek, caressing the other side as he pulled you against him and you smiled with your eyes closed and rested your hand against his arm. This one was your favorite.

“Yeah, you’re right. These came out a lot better than I thought they would,” you said, the bar much quieter as another band got prepared for their set.

“Why wouldn’t they turn out great?” he asked confused.

“You know, the lighting and stuff. Plus my hair and we’ve been drinking so I know my face is all -”

“Stop. You look amazing. Look!” Jimin held the pictures up for you though you were already looking at them; it seemed he was a little more drunk than you were. “Absolutely beautiful,” he added. You smiled softly at him as he placed your favorites into his wallet. “Okay, I’m going to go give them this one. Do you want another drink?” You shook my head no, still nursing your first, and watched him meander his way through the crowd gathered to hear the band. They started up a moment later, a smooth rhythm of R’n’B playing out through the speakers. The beat was infectious and you closed your eyes, dancing in your seat. It felt good to not be concerned with anything, though work still plagued the back of your mind.

“I didn’t know you could dance!” Jimin yelled over the music. You hadn’t noticed his return and his voice startled you.

“I don’t dance!” You said with a laugh.

“But you just were!”

“I really wouldn’t call that dancing, Jimin.”

“Well, show me what is then.” He held his hand out to you. More people had started to dance as well, the change in the atmosphere quite apparent. “Don’t you want to see what dance moves we have stored in the Park family?” You laughed and nearly fell out of the booth trying to imagine Mr. Park senior getting down at the family parties. You were quite intrigued.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

You grabbed his hand after taking another generous mouthful of beer and led him onto the makeshift dance floor. Jimin spun you around to face him and guided your hands around his neck while his hands rested on your lower back, the two of you swaying in time to the song. It was gentle and sweet and you hid your face in his chest as he spun you around. Jimin looked happy as you danced hand in hand, laughing when you stumbled from being inebriated. You hoped that his phone call was as far back in his mind as you physically were from the United States.

You danced for God knows how long until your feet started to hurt and the two of you were almost wet with sweat, lost in the music and the soft touches of one another. Jimin made good on his promise and had you back at the hostel before midnight. If anyone had been downstairs, you would have looked like any lovesick teenagers sneaking home in the dead of night. You were grateful that William and Sonia hadn’t decided to wait up for you as you giggled your way to your room, you hushing Jimin as he unlocked your door.

“Thank you for taking me there, Jimin. I had a really good time tonight,” you said as you kicked off your sneakers and grabbed your sleep shirt and toothbrush.

“It was no trouble at all. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I had a really good time too,” he replied as he tugged his shirt over his head. Your eyes widened as you took in his smooth torso, the sprinkle of hair starting at his belly button and disappearing into his shorts that he was currently removing -

“Okay! I’m gonna go wait outside while you change! Let me know when you’re done,” you squeaked out and winced at the force at which you closed the door. You could hear Jimin chuckle from the other side. It was becoming quite tiring being flustered around him.

After receiving the all-clear from Jimin to re-enter, you slipped into the bathroom to change and brush your teeth. It was stupid at how happy you were to see your toothbrushes sitting next to each other in the little holder. Tugging the shirt down as far as it would go over your hips, you poked your head around the door to see Jimin already under the covers, one hand holding his book and the other tucked behind his head. So much for getting into bed without being seen. You folded your shorts and shirt, placing them on top of your backpack as you mentally prepared to face Jimin.

“I hope you don’t mind me not taking a shower. I didn’t think it was a good idea with the amount that I had to drink and I definitely don’t think you’re strong enough to pull me out of the shower if I fell,” he said, still not looking at you.

“Hey! I could probably manage!” you yelled, slightly offended that he thought you were weak.

“A naked me? Y/N, you can barely look at me with clothes on,” he snorted and set his book down on the nightstand and looked at you. You blushed as your eyes fell on the gold chain around his neck; he had decided not to wear a shirt to bed tonight. You watched him take in your figure, his eyes roaming over on your bare thighs for a few seconds longer than necessary. “But, if you think you can, I can go -” he started pulling the covers back but you cut him off.

“Nope!” you yelled and held your arms out as if you could magically force him not to move. “It’s fine, really. We can just go to sleep. Wouldn’t want you to get concussed or anything before our flight,” you mumbled. Double-checking the door was locked, you flicked off the light. You stubbed your toe just as you were about to climb in and Jimin laughed.

“Not as fun when it happens to you, right?” You punched his shoulder as you settled under the covers facing away from him, pretending to be mad. “Ah Y/N, come on.” Jimin shifted so he was cuddled up behind you, his hand thrown over your waist. “You’re not really mad at me, are you Shutterfly?” He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your neck and you shivered. You could feel his grin against your skin again. Truly the bane of your existence.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” you mumbled.

“Good,” he replied and gave you a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me part of your story, for trusting me with that. Thank you for also letting me take care of you tonight. I hope you let me do it again,” he said as he pulled you closer against him and you sighed.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He punctuated his sentence with a kiss against your cheek, his lips lingering once again.

“Goodnight, Jimin,” you whispered back as he buried his face into your shoulder.

That night, you dreamed of museums, Mingsu’s, and live music.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[agent-kihyun]

la vie en rose [chw]

Pairing: Hyungwon x fem!reader

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: war(?), death briefly mentioned...

A/N: so i had this image of Paris in the 20th century stuck in my head and decided to write a little soulmate AU with Hyungwon based on it. I listened to la vie en rose a lot while writing so here we are lmao. As you can probably tell, I’ve been writing a lot of romance with Wonnie but that’s bc i love him and again I think he deserves more love than he receives. Enjoy.

In 1948, just after the second world war ended, Chae Hyungwon, a journalist from the south of Korea, somehow found his way to Paris, France. The company he wrote for sent him so he could have overseas experience and write about how the war impacted France. He was one of the best writers in the company, and he had been vying to visit France for a long time.

He had been alone for most of his life. He had a high school sweetheart, but once they graduated, they parted ways. Being rather career-oriented, he threw himself into his work, not caring much about romance. But now that he was in Paris, the city of love, he couldn’t deny that maybe he was ready to get back out there again. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

You had traveled from America to teach English in French schools to children just after the war ended. You’d had a few flings here and there but never anything serious. However, you hoped that the city of love lived up to its name and wished for luck finding someone who you could actually settle down with. The war showed you life was too short to waste with fleeting relationships. You wanted romance, love, and companionship.

Somehow, fate would have its way with you and Hyungwon.

It was about 8 pm in Paris, the moon hidden behind rain clouds as it poured over the luminous city. Hyungwon, who had stayed at his office to finish something for work, packed up and got his umbrella ready to get a cab home.

You, on the other hand, were coming back home from seeing a friend for dinner and drinks. You didn’t anticipate rain, so your friend allowed you to borrow her umbrella so you wouldn’t get wet. Unfortunately, she failed to tell you that her umbrella was slightly broken, so as you were walking to the train station to go home, you were still getting very, very wet. Unpleasant was an understatement.

And then it happened. While Hyungwon walked up the street trying to hail a cab in the heavy rain, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking on the sidewalk, and the front of your umbrella was bent downwards so you couldn’t quite see in front of you well. As fate would have it, both of your inabilities to see where you were going causes a collision of bodies and umbrellas and before either of you knew it, you were being rained on.

You grunted in frustration at the stranger, moving your hair out of the way so you could get your umbrella from the street, but the wind was strong and began to blow it away from you so quickly that before you could start chasing after the umbrella, it was out of your line of sight. Hyungwon heavily sighed and picked up his umbrella, apologizing as he turned to you, watching your friend’s umbrella billow away in the wind and rain. He watched your figure carefully as you stood there in the rain, getting soaked. He felt bad, you literally couldn’t see because of your umbrella, he was just not paying attention. So, like a gentleman, he walked over to you and brought his umbrella over the two of you, shielding you from the cold rainwater. Fortunately, Hyungwon was much taller than you, and his umbrella was bigger, big enough for the both of you to stand under and not get wet.

Before he could even tap your shoulder, you turned around in surprise at the stranger’s kindness.

Then the world stopped. The minute eye contact was made, there was a spark, a flash of lightning, a pull between the two of you and you knew, this was it.

The familiarity was strange. No words were said, but it felt like nothing needed to be said. Yet. You felt like you had met him several times before, and he felt like he had known you for ages. A smile graced both of your faces as you finally greeted one another.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

“Bonsoir, monsieur.”

His deep voice reverberated in your chest and you were surprised, to say the least. He didn’t seem like he was from around France, or maybe he was, but the French language coming from him made it seem like maybe this wasn’t his first language. Nevertheless, it still sounded perfect to your ears, the words dripping from his thick lips like sweet honey.

“Oh, maybe we should get out of the rain,” Hyungwon said.

“That does sound like a good idea,” you nodded, hugging yourself to keep any warmth you had left, to yourself. Hyungwon looked around and found a late-night cafe that looked like it was still on.

“This way,” he put his hand on your back and led you toward the cafe.

Once you were inside the cozy cafe, you looked for the restroom to see if you could freshen up. Hyungwon decided to go and purchase some hot chocolate for the two of you. When you emerged from the restroom, you saw him, sat at a table with his mug, blowing on the hot chocolate to cool it off.

“You know, blowing on hot foods and drinks doesn’t make it any less hot,” you told him as you approached his table. Hyungwon looked up at you as he halted his blowing, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how he looked. He put down his mug as you sat in the seat across from him. You slightly shivered as you picked up the warm mug and began to drink from it.

“Are you cold?” Hyungwon asked. You stopped sipping and looked up at him.

“A bit,” you admitted to him. Hyungwon stood up and took his long coat off, draping it around your shoulders. It was much drier than your clothes, and you assumed it was because he was rather quick in picking his umbrella up outside, while yours flew away from you.

“Thank you, and thank you for the hot chocolate. You didn’t need to,” you smiled softly at him as he sat back in his chair.

“I figured we could both warm up a bit before going back into the cold rain,” he returned the smile. You nodded and continued to sip the hot chocolate.

After you both finished, you picked up your belongings and left the diner. Hyungwon was ready to open his umbrella, but upon realizing it was no longer raining, he stopped himself.

“It’s not raining anymore,” he said.

“Thank God,” you sighed.

You both walked down the steps and faced each other.

“Well…”

“Um…”

“I should go...the train station is that way,” you pointed past Hyungwon.

“I can walk you there...if you’d like. You never know who’s out there,” he offered. Your face lit up at the suggestion and you nodded.

“Oh, I would love that,” you told him.

The two of you went on your merry way, and soon, you were in front of the metro station, and Hyungwon began to feel a bit down.

Hyungwon wanted to spend more time with you, he felt like the evening wasn’t over yet, but he figured it was best to let you go. Maybe you two would find each other again.

“It was nice meeting you...um…” you trailed off so he could tell you his name.

“Hyungwon,” he chuckled as he stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“Hyungwon. I’m Y/N. It was nice meeting you. Thank you again,” you smiled at the sound of his laugh. Hyungwon, on the other hand, nearly melted as his name rolled off your lips. It pained him when your hand left his. You quickly gave Hyungwon his jacket back and waved goodbye to him as you entered the train station. Hyungwon’s smile fell as he realized that he may not see you ever again and started walking away from the train station when you suddenly emerged and called his name.

“Hyungwon!”

The man whipped around faster than humanly possible to see you walking towards him.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Yes, I am back. Apparently, they shut down the train stations because they are flooding! So I cannot take the train home,” you frowned as you explained.

This was Hyungwon’s chance! He could spend more time with you! He silently thanked God, or the universe or whatever force drove the two of you together.

“I can walk you home if you want,” he blurted out.

“Really? You would do that for me?” you asked.

“Why, of course. I have no plans for the evening, and the weather is nice...now,” he gave you a genuine smile.

“Thank you so much, but I should warn you, I don’t live very close to here. It may take a while to get back,” you told him.

“I have no qualms. Lead the way,” Hyungwon shrugged, and thus, your magical evening with Hyungwon began.

You led him down cobblestone streets, brilliantly illuminated by the streetlights, splashing in the puddles and chasing each other around. You led him across bridges extending over the Seine, holding his big, warm hand in yours. You led him through hidden alleys that held deep, dark secrets. The air was filled with your laughter and conversations as you took your sweet time walking home, enjoying the spring weather in Paris. At some point, you and Hyungwon had a perfect view of the Eiffel tower and stopped to admire it.

“It truly is marvelous, isn’t it?” he asked you.

“Indeed, it is,” you sighed contentedly.

Finally, after about an hour and a half of walking, you made it home. Hyungwon walked you up the steps to your door while you fished your key out of your bag.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Hyungwon,” you beamed at him while fiddling with your keys.

“As did I, Y/N. It was a pleasure to meet you and spend the evening with you,” he returned your smile. You could barely keep eye contact with the handsome man but eventually forced yourself to, drawn to his eyes and how they practically held the universe.

“Um...maybe...we...we could do this again sometime?” you asked shyly. Hyungwon rose his eyebrows in surprise but nodded in agreement.

“I would most definitely like that. Maybe after dinner?” he extended the offer.

“Dinner by ourselves?” you asked.

“Dinner with me,” Hyungwon chuckled.

“Oh well, how could I say no to that?” you gave him a coy grin. You quickly took out a napkin and pen and wrote down your home telephone number on it for Hyungwon to call you.

“I look forward to it,” Hyungwon took your hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, “Until then, mademoiselle.”

“Bonne Nuit, monsieur,” you waved goodbye as you unlocked your door and shut it behind you. Hyungwon trotted down the steps and did a little dance on the sidewalk before began his own trek home, which conveniently was not far from your home.

After that night, you and Hyungwon began to spend a significant amount of time together. Soon, you started a beautiful relationship with him and thought that you had finally found your happy ending, but the universe decided that you and Hyungwon would not end up together, at least not in this lifetime.

The day he told you he was going back to Korea was a sad one. He told you he desperately wanted to stay with you in France, but he needed to go back to his home country to serve in the military, for there was a war and they needed every man to help fight. He told you that he would always love you, but it was time for you to part ways.

“Maybe we will meet again in the next life,” he had said, before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He proceeded to wish you the best, gathered his belongings and left you alone in your apartment.

Hyungwon never forgot you, and you never forgot him, despite marrying someone else later down the line. He ended up passing away during the war, the thought of you the last thing on his mind before he was taken. You lived a long life with your husband, had a beautiful family, and died of old age, and like Hyungwon had thought of you before his time to go, you had thought of him as well.

But the universe was not done with the two of you yet.

In the year 1994, Chae Hyungwon was reborn, and in this lifetime, he would go on to be a rather famous musician, touring the world with his 6 best friends and getting to perform for thousands of people, whose hearts were touched by their music.

You were also reborn in the mid to late nineties, leading a relatively normal life, going to university and choosing to study linguistics, wanting to travel around the world, learn about different cultures and new languages.

Somehow, your paths crossed once again in Paris, France in the springtime, in the exact same spot.

You had been visiting France for vacation, crossing the country off your travel bucket list. Hyungwon was on a massive world tour and had a stop in Paris, and fortunately, he had a few days to go and explore the city before the group had to move on to the next stop.

He was simply walking around a villa with his good friend Hoseok, admiring the architecture when Hoseok brought up something that Hyungwon had thought about before.

“Do you think soulmates exist?” Hoseok had asked. Hyungwon shrugged, but internally, he was screaming “YES”. Hyungwon had always felt like he was missing half of him, but never really knew why. He thought when he met Hoseok, that changed, but the feeling was still there.

“You don’t think so?” Hoseok asked his friend.

“I’m not sure,” Hyungwon responded and was going to elaborate when suddenly a body collided with his own. Hoseok gasped as he moved back and watched as Hyungwon and the person who crashed into him fumbled for a minute.

“I’m so sorry!” Hyungwon heard the person--the woman-- say. The voice was oddly very familiar as if he had heard it a million times before.

“It’s okay,” Hyungwon rubbed his arm as he shook his head and looked down to see who had run into him.

You stood in front of him, a nervous, shy smile gracing your lips as he scanned your features. Hyungwon was hit with an intense feeling of deja vu; as if he had met you before...as if he had seen your face somewhere before...as if he had experienced running into you before.

You also felt the same thing, Hyungwon seeming extremely familiar to you, despite your brain telling you had never met this man before.

“Do I know you?” Hyungwon asked you.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” you said, puzzled.

“It feels like...like we’ve met before, but...I know we haven’t,” he squinted.

“Maybe we have, in a past life or something,” you shrugged, “it’s very possible.”

“Yeah...it is,” Hyungwon said, admiring your appearance as he did the first time he had met you.

“Sorry about running into you, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you explained.

“It’s okay. I’m Hyungwon,” He stuck his hand out for you to shake, history repeating itself. He knew it too, he felt like he had done this before.

“Hyungwon! What are you doing?” Hoseok whisper-shouted to his best friend while he stood off to the side.

“I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet, you Hyungwon,” you shook his hand. His name sounded so familiar, you could’ve sworn you had heard it before, but no...your brain told you this was the first--and quite possibly the last--Hyungwon you’d ever meet.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Y/N,” Hyungwon smiled at you.

And just like that, the universe had brought you two together once again, and this time, you were going to stay together.

[melvillaa]

An Ode to 2020

Not really sure why I’m awake right now. If this was pre-marriage, I would have taken out my laptop to start typing, but it’s not and Bri is knocked tf out, so here we are. I guess this is the ode to 2020 post that I’ve been meaning to annotate for a while now.

This has been the most transformative year of my life. So many changes in more ways than one. Way more ways. Try like 20. A lot of crying (which I never do.... or maybe i just don’t admit to, lmao), a lot of introspection, a lot of uncomfortability (is that a word?), and a lot of change. A whole lot.

The year started off with optimism and ended with the same notion. Full of hope and wonder for the year set before me, I couldn’t wait for 2020 - it was supposed to be the year all my dreams came true.. and in a weird way, it was! It was the year I got married to the love of my life(!!!!!!), reached 5 years at my corporate job, relocated to a new home in a new city and area code. It was all that - but it wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t that, plus a little pizzazz, lol.

It’s hard for me to give myself grace. Truly I think I am the hardest on myself. Always empathetic of others and their experiences, but always giving myself the short end of the stick. Living in a pandemic has been wild - but living through my huge life changes in the middle of a pandemic has proven to be even more wild. As a person who doesn’t necessarily love change, I’ve struggled to give myself grace in the midst of the huge life changes I’ve experienced. I’m damn proud of how far I’ve come and how strong I’ve been to withstand the trials that I battle without me really saying a word to a single soul. As a person, me typing this stuff out is me telling the world my story - even if no one reads it. This year changed my life.

Marriage.

I became a wife and entered the covenant of marriage. It really is true that you enter into a marital bliss that is full of love you don’t experience until you get married. It’s unlocking a next level of your relationship and discovering a new version of yourself ... yourself plus another human. There really are different levels of love that you are surprised to find out that you are capable of. It’s different than just being in a relationship with one another. Now we’re bound to each other under a different covenant - before the eyes of God, our family, our friends and the law. It’s weird filling out paperwork and realizing that legally I am no longer a Villaflor. Well technically I’ll always be a Villaflor (Melanie Rose Villaflor Argamaso to be exact, okurrrttttt). I stepped into this role of being a wife and all the “responsibilities” that came with it and also fully embraced the fact that I have a person to do life with who loves me more than himself, who is always thinking of me, always taking care of me, always looking out for me, and who genuinely takes responsibility for me. It’s weird. It’s things I knew of during our relationship, but in marriage it’s somehow personified.. magnified. Marriage is so cool. Maybe it’s cool for me because there’s been such an emphasis and importance placed on it ever since I was a little girl. Bri and I didn’t have the “modern relationship” where we lived together prior to marriage. Yea we slept over and had our own respective places, but to really enter into marriage where everyday it’s me and you, and we have a whole ass home and life together is really wild. I love it. Doing life with Bri is me truly seeing that this man really would give me the world if I asked for it. Anything I could ever want or need, he fulfills it. Everyone always asks me what I’ve learned about him since we got married, or what’s something new about Bri that I’ve discovered ... one thing is that this man and his hobbies are unmatched, bro loves him some cars, any moving vehicle really, lmao. But mostly, I see his heart. He always wants the best - for me and for himself and anyone he cares about, sometimes to a fault when he can’t attain perfection but so badly wants to achieve it. But most times he can .. and then some. I’ve never met someone so naturally good at so many things. Tactically advanced, street smart as hell, a risk taker with the ability to fix just about anything, a people person with an infectious personality who could probably resell a piece of lint if he had to. We’re a family now. A little family of two but we’re both at a place where we really wouldn’t mind unlocking another level of love if it were time to. (He asks me for a “grey” from @greyandmama on IG almost weekly 🥺🥴😂).

Wedding.

It seemed like I waited so, so long for our wedding - for it to come and go like the wind. But instead of a nice sea breeze, it came and went like a tropical storm (... literally 😂but more on that later!) I remember being so excited on New Years Day at the start of 2020 ... the anticipation of our wedding in the next five months and really the start of all of our wedding festivities would begin within the next month ... or so I thought.

I remember hearing about the coronavirus making landfall in the US around the holidays in 2019 and it was already steadily spreading across the US, but not quite as widespread as it currently is. I was going on a work trip to Florida towards the end of January and I remember wearing a mask in the airport and on the flight and I conducted my usual Lysol-ing of my entire space. Everyone was looking at me like I was insane but I really didn’t care, haha. A flight attendant asked me why I was wearing a mask and I replied that I just wanted to stay healthy for my family. (...Still true, lol.) I had no idea at this moment how significantly the coronavirus was going to disrupt our world, how normal mask wearing would be, and how disinfectant wipes would soon be the most prized commodity in 21st century homes. 

February came like a rush - I started designing our wedding invitation suite which was something I had literally dreamed about. I had a vision from the very beginning and new exactly how I wanted everything to look down to the postage stamp. It reinforced a love for stationery design that I knew I had, but damn was I proud of the finished product. I was so meticulous about everything - from the fonts I used, the colors and hues of the paper, the thickness of the paper, the envelopes, the ink I used. It was so intricate, but it was the most fun I ever had while designing something. It didn’t feel like work at all, but it was pure love that I poured into those invitations. Bri’s bachelor party happened in early March and my bachelorette in Chicago (!!!) was supposed to happen at the end of March. The boys went to Jacksonville, Florida and were able to stay with Bri’s old roommate, Ace in his beautiful home. Coronavirus cases were on the upswing, especially in Florida and Atlanta. I was so freaked out. N95′s were no where to be found, but since Bri is a painter, he was able to score some through work. He wore one on the flight and literally got light headed due to lack of oxygen, lol. He had the time of his life in Florida while I poured my whole self into our invitations, lol. And as soon as the boys got back, the US started to shut down. 

Everyone began to work from home and businesses started closing up shop. Star couldn’t make it to my bachelorette, so she schemed her way into getting me to pole dance with all the girls, hahaha. It was literally the night before everything was supposed to shut down. No indoor dining or bars were going to be open at midnight the following Monday, so I was super thankful that I was able to have a mini bachelorette experience in our own little backyard.  

It was an anomaly to fly anywhere and airports became ghost towns. Each day we got a little closer to my bachelorette and myself and the girls were so excited. Itineraries were made, bickering ensued, flights were purchased, I bought outfits for every outing (... so much white, lol) Literally the only thing left for us to do was to actually fly to Chicago. Probably a week to a week and a half before we were supposed to fly out, Chicago issued a stay at home order and everything shut down. We had to make the difficult decision to cancel my bachelorette trip to Chicago and try to rebound and think of a plan B. The girls were so gracious. I’m so thankful for all the work they put in to try and make things work out for me. We tried to do a weekend trip to Ashville, NC but everything was so risky and there was so much unknown at this point. Covid mandates varied from state to state and things were quite literally changing by the day, the hour even. It just didn’t work out. Till this day I’m sad that I didn’t get to have the full bachelorette experience, but I’m still so, so thankfulI for my friends and the work that they put in to make everything feel as normal as possible. 

Home.

Careers.

Relationships.

Ok I’ll reflect on these things later. I’m sleepy, lol.

[merrysithmas]

hi! what are your predictions for boris and theo’s future after the end of the novel? are they going to move together and where - new york or antwerp? is boris going to get clean? is theo going to find out boris lied about his wife and kids? please share your thoughts I’m really curious!

I don’t have any predictions bc I know that Donna will just ruin their lives - Lmao. But my FANTASY is that Theo becomes some kind of tenured art professor that travels back and forth from NYC to London with his grants from the high-brow University he works for — he’s head of Art History and looks up to the Dean of his school as a mentor and mother-figure (can’t get away from that one, can ya Theo).

Boris works in his underground Odessa mafia crime syndicate - stationed in Antwerp but often traveling to NYC, Tel Aviv, Miami, Budapest, London, Amsterdam, and various other places — Theo kind of on the DL works as his stony-faced accountant being a bit knowledgable on the laundering and financial fraud end of things himself (he used to dabble in millions in art fraud himself) and fine arts consultant, and everyone knows they are these inseparable partners of unknown dynamic. Boris, flippant and personable and wily, Theo quiet and elitist and aloof - always at each other’s sides.

So Theo’s become a bit of a “we have to find lost and stolen relics and return them to the places where they truly belong, or the very least to a museum!” and uses his grant money from his University to investigate such matters and has been successful in several returns (cue proud newspaper articles that Hobie framed and puts up on the mantle) and has brought some amount of prestige to the University.

However Theo’s philanthropic fixation often clashes with Boris’ “holy fuck this is worth 300 million dollars” attitude and there are hijinx, usually with Boris always caving and/or Theo making it worth his while by appealing to his Boris-ly interests (i.e. “Please I need your resources to go to Syria” “Are you fucking kidding me? For what a plank of wood?” “It’s a sacred Persian relic and it’s in the hands of people like Martin!” “Listen to my words, Potter. It is. plank. of fucking. wood.” “Fuck you, Boris. There will be gold.” “... Gold? How much gold exactly?”).

So as Theo dabbles in Boris’ life, Boris also pops up in Theo’s, unexpectedly interrupting Theo’s lectures in the halls of European museums, waving to the kids, pulling Theo away for “just a moment” as he explains someone in the museum in trying to kill him insisting they “switch coats” and Theo has to hide him in the archives. Or he plops down while Theo is eating outside in a café in Strasbourg, casually sitting down across from him while Theo grades papers and smiles to himself at the familiar shadow falling on his gradebook (they eventually get into a fight and Theo calls him a “walking contraceptive” before he blusters off and Boris is left to eat the rest of Theo’s brunch in the company of a bunch of diners who are side-eying him, taking to reading a paper Theo left behind while finishing his Gerwurztraminer).

Or Boris is exhuasted, burning the midnight oil, black rings under his eyes, thinner than usual, wiry and punkish, under the gun, dead asleep on Theo’s couch in his office at his London library University headquarters, and Theo carefully tucks a heavy woolen blanket around his shoulders as he sleeps like the dead, deep tired breaths, safe, at home, as the rain pours down like a flood outside and Theo smokes quietly in the dark working on another grant proposal.

Or Theo turns up at Boris’ door in Antwerp, late nightcap after a surprise flight for a conference and seminar that he hasn’t told Boris about, and he sees Boris has barely eaten for weeks, holed up after trying to figure he and his gang’s way out of some absolute fuckery they got themselves into and losing one of his longtime members in the process — grieving and he can’t show anyone else and it hurts. And Theo runs his hand through Boris’ hair, and Boris closes tired, red eyes. And Theo is cooking him a meal at 3am, putting on some boiling hot tea, insisting he “come home” for a while. To New York.

New York City in the winter — operas and symphonies — snow falling like feathers and covering Central Park, winter holidays from school and Theo doesn’t have work, gallery events at museums that Boris can complain about - the Old Rich Hierarchal stuffiness - the insulting of which always makes him feel a bit better. Old movies and (bad, hard) drugs and stealing shit for old times sake from Duane Reade even though Boris has enough money for the two of them to span three lifetimes. Hot showers after getting in from the freezing cold and Theo’s apartment is meticulous and Boris disturbs it like a tornado. And they sleep in and for some brief moments, sometimes, tipped over vodka bottles, creaking floorboards in the night, city sounds and Vegas-bright Christmas lights, it’s like they’re kids again.

Meanwhile on the other end Boris’ gang is like a second family to Theo — Myriam, Gyuri, Cherry, Anatoly, Shirley T, Dima (and all their girlfriends, wives, boyfriends - sometimes all three): one is constantly showing up in rotation somehow in Theo’s life. Either randomly in London pulling him off the street “casually” SWEARING he’s not the subject of an assassination plot, or turning up sheepishly and/or desperately at his doorstep for some Boris un-sanctioned advice that Theo feels he is not exactly equipped to give (advice on girlfriends or spurned wives or cheating or kids or haircuts or boobjobs or what’s “in fashion in New York”) but they keep showing up like he’s the crew psychologist so he just pulls out the dining chair at this point. Myriam, now a close friend forged by their mutual taste for the High End of life, keeps an eye on Boris for Theo when Theo is across the ocean — she knows why, of course, they all do, an open secret. The whole gang has them, a criminal syndicate of misfits.

And one day Theo comes to Boris with a proposal to go to Siberia to retrieve an ancient sacred object called The Divine Source (an source of immortality) that was coveted and obscured by the Soviet Union and Boris is like fuck no Fuck no because if there is one place on Earth that Boris fears and sends a shiver up his spine and he doesn’t fuck with - it’s Mother Russia. Growing up in post-Soviet countries it’s an unspoken unanimous agreement among the gang, an overhanging government that has mostly wanted or had their eyes on them all since they were kids for various reasons - stealing or living on the street or used by street gangs - something you don’t want to get involved with or retamper.

And Theo’s a bit obtuse, still American for all his worldly ventures and education, having grown up in relative privilege from a sociological standpoint, and is super upset about Boris’ refusal to help (and thus, his gang’s refusal to help) - thinking they’re overreacting or being bombastic about their fears. The Dean is insisting on his help and Boris has long held suspicions about this lady and has kept it to himself because of Theo’s adulation of her (Boris knows Theo and mother figures are let’s say, a sensitive spot). Not wanting to disappoint the University (and moreover - her) Theo says fine he’ll just go alone to which Boris freaks the fuck out claiming its dangerous and he’s going to get himself killed and the Dean is an untrustworthy bitch who is manipulating him.

Cue an all-out end-of-times fight with Theo basically saying fuck him for all time, he’s done. And Theo leaves for Siberia by way of Syria, and Boris is fuming, left behind.

Long story short Theo gets betrayed by the Dean in a moment of gutwrenching horrifying realization - he was being used, Boris was right, now she has the relic and he’s going to die alone and freezing to fucking death, shot by some operative from the secret organization that Dean is in — he hears footsteps, sees the armored guard walking towards him with a gun, feels his stomach drop and braces himself and then Pow - the guy falls to the ground after a blow to the head revealing— Boris, behind him.

And Theo, overjoyed, alive, is asking how the fuck he got here, what he’s doing here— to which Boris replies incredulously Who do you think has been keeping you safe all this time?

Then Boris, who is very much on edge in this place, gets captured and tortured and Theo is forced to find and hand over the Divine Source in exchange for his life — which he does, terrified of the Source getting into their hands but more terrified of losing Boris. The Source is then greedily opened and eats all of their souls (because of moral impurity reasons but spares Theo and Boris for their self-sacrifcing devotion to each other) a la Raiders of the Lost Ark because of what Theo discovers, excitedly, was a mistranslation in Aramaic (thief of eternal life, not giver) and Boris is like — talk about what do you call it? false advertising.

So they return back to Antwerp with nothing but they’ve got each other and they snooze hard on each other on the plane ride back — several pounds of gold glinting away in Boris’ carry-on under the seat, alongside some old notes of other obscure and stolen relics, because he unknowingly picked up the Dean’s bag, not his, when escaping the sacred city.

So basically their life is a mix of Lara Croft video games (when I got the Divine Source storyline lmao but added a few things), Eastern Promises, The Odd Couple, The Da Vinci Code, and dark academia mixed with shitton of doping. With this mostly unspoken bi-continental devotion to each other over-arching it all.

[whatshockey]

slow dancing in the dark - k.k.

A KASPERI KAPANEN IMAGINE.

in which what was supposed to be a goodbye declared in the dead of night ended up being stretched into the following morning

song used for inspiration: “SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji

word count: 3,909

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some smut and cursing, and breaking off things for good type of thing. overall just really angsty i’m sorry lol

a/n: i promise that i won’t only do song fics but this song grew on me late one night and this is my first time attempting anything raunchier than kissing lmao

-

Her eyes bled sorrow and throat swelled in heartbreak. Another sob shook through her frame, leaving her knees quivering on the porcelain tile of the bathroom floor, bending further into his lap with every chill down her spine. Her lips cracked and knuckles dampened from attempting to keep her tears hidden, palms heavy as she gripped his shirt collar with the feeling of regret already beginning to creep in. “Stop it,” her mind scolded, and she really did want to. But her voice was drowned out by his dangerously reassuring whispers of, “Shh, it’s okay” and “I’ve got you, baby.”

Only four hours ago, she’d been camouflaged in the buzzing streets of Toronto, forcing her lips together in attempts to form something that resembled a smile. The large jacket hung off of her back, and months ago a last name could’ve been found blanketing his shoulder blades, one that did not match the man’s whose hand held her’s. She could still faintly smell his scent lodged in between the pairing of the worn out fleece and denim, but at times wondered if she had imagined it all, cursing herself for thinking about the same scent lingering on her pillowcase when she was in the company of another man.

Scotiabank Area couldn’t feel more cold, despite the thousands packed and seated dressed in variations of blue. It had only been their third date and somehow her heart had managed to wedge another blade in between her breaths, slowly digging further into her chest as the minutes ran by. Her eyes flickered to the suite that was surely full of the women that, at one point in her life, she could’ve considered sisters. She allowed her mind to wander back to the nights she’d spend in there cheering on her favorite person in the world, whereas now the new couple, although she avoided referring to it as such, sat uncomfortably close to the ice. The sounds of blades carving the sheets of ice echoed before her, and her pulse heightened at the mere glimpse of his jersey, one she’d worn many times before. Before he’d claim that he’d always be able to spot her even if she was in the midst of millions, and she’d wondered if he still looked for her in the crowd, or if he simply stopped caring to do so at all. What would he think if he saw her, at his own game, wrapped in the arms of a stranger who probably couldn’t keep up with the sport himself if he tried.

Her lips curled, finding the irony of the situation amusing. Karma was certainly a bitch, and she almost wanted to laugh at her own stupidity. She had allowed her date to drag her into a bar later that night. The same one where she had shared a heated kiss pressed up against a bathroom stall, a vein-covered hand moving to unbutton her jeans. She felt her cheeks burn as she was ushered into the club with a far less calloused and muscular arm against her back, and internally blamed the contrast of the temperature outside rather than the memory of another doing the same. Her date’s arm never left her waist, even as the two sat down on the stools and he’d pulled his close enough so that their entire sides were squeezed together, lips ghosting over her ear as he made a mediocre joke in which she forced herself to laugh to.

Her date attempted to gain the bartender’s attention, but he had noticed them immediately, recognizing the shine of her hair even in the dimmed lights of the club. He’d addressed her by her first name, earning a confused look from her date. However, she managed to ignore his stare as she ordered two of her regulars, and refrained from referring to it as such. Explaining to her date how much she’d frequented this bar with a man he could never compare to was not on her agenda for the evening. And neither was gossiping about their colleagues from work, which he had turned the conversation to and she had no interest in amusing as their drinks were placed before them. The two had met a company party, never interacting before as they worked in separate departments. She particularly avoided her male colleagues, knowing to never make her professional life messy if she could. However, he’d been the most attractive one there, and perhaps the most attractive man she’d seen in a while, and as much as she’d preferred a certain edge she was used to on a man, her would-be date was now her ex. And her coworker’s dress pants seemed to fit particularly tight at his groin in a way that she couldn’t help but admire.

“Uh,” he cut in, looking over her shoulder as she attempted to navigate the conversation onto the latest project she’d been working on, her eyes narrowing at his interruption. “Sorry, but are those the leafs?”  

It had been surprising he even spotted them, seeing as the club had been packed with sweaty bodies in short dresses and ripped jeans grinding against each other or stumbling to down two more shots of vodka. It had been even more surprising that they had even attended such a place post their big win for the night. The city’s heroes usually opted for a far more elite establishment even on their off days, taking over the VIP section with expensive liquor at their lips and beautiful women at their sides.

What hadn’t been surprising, however, was finding her ex boyfriend and a girl with a siren-like gaze hanging off of him, dressed in a deep red dress that made her skin glow gold. She could tell that even with heels, the woman would tower over her frame, offering a much envied advantage when bruising his neck with her full lips, painted so that they’d match the fabric stretched across her breasts and hips.

They had all already been facing her as she turned around. She’d avoided looking at his face, knowing very well that it would only take one second under his eyes to have her coming undone, but whether she’d run into his arms or out of the door, she did not know. Will had been the first to acknowledge her with something other than a blank stare, grinning almost instantly as their eyes briefly met, and he’d already been at his feet approaching her. She wondered why others hadn’t protested against it, and what had been going through her date’s mind as she could feel his arm freeze in place along her hips. She wasn’t sure if she really cared about what exactly he thought of her in the moment as he watched her with a shocked stare, but she shook away from his grip and leaned out to greet her old friend who’d outstretched his arms. The two had grown awfully close over the last year, which only made her hurt more while he helped her as she packed up her things from his teammate’s apartment.

Freddie had been next, sending her a small smile and quick kiss on the cheek. He’d become quite a comforting presence to be around, always available for a good conversation or comfort when her boyfriend was injured. She hadn’t noticed him following, instead catching eyes with Auston, who sent her a tight-lipped smile and casual nod, and continued to hold onto the girl on his lap who was just as attractive as the other. She wish she could bring herself to fearlessly stare down the last leaf, but instead opted to turn her focus back onto the two towering over her. She could still picture the countless messages he’d received from other girls during their run, her own mind replaying the images of their bodies twisted in flattering angles and perfectly lined eyes. He’d never reply, but she almost wished he did so she could prepare for this moment, because he was undoubtedly talking to one of them now. Hadn’t any of the other inhabitants of the bar noticed them yet? It felt as if they were the only ones in there.

The same arm from before wrapped itself around her frame and she fought the urge to roll her eyes, refusing to introduce the two to her plus one. The more time she spent around him, the more he clinged on, and she was left missing the large hand that would cup the flesh of her thighs under the table at team dinners, the same would that would wrap around her throat in their bedroom afterwards. Despite how delicious the man from work looked with his sleeves rolled up, his arms were left bare, and no art could be used as stencils for her love bites to trail her tongue across.

Her thighs clenched at the thought, but the feeling quickly left as she felt the vibrations from the voice next to her speaking, congratulating the two men on the game.

“We were at the game,” he’d mentioned, her stomach lurching as he squeezed her side tighter. “It was, like, really crazy.”

She secretly thanked Freddie, who’d been eyeing her for enough time to know she was growing uncomfortable, quickly thanking her date and steered the conversation away. Will, on the other hand, looked at her expectantly, as if she’d introduce them at a shudder from his hard glare. She shook her head, knowing very well the boy would prounce back to his former roommate and share every detail of their encounter with him. And she was unfortunately very aware what the outcome would be upon the announcement of the fact that she still attended their games.

The players eventually bid a goodbye, final hugs exchanged, and made her promise to catch up over a lunch with them soon. Her date practically reeked of curiosity, and laid out a simple answer to his question before he could ask.

“We met through a mutual friend.”  

It wasn’t a complete lie, but she hadn’t wasted time to feel guilty. She’d begun pouring more alcohol into her system, mind buzzing from everything that had taken place over the past five minutes. She felt as if she had just ran a marathon, and didn’t know if she’d ever see the finish line. But more than anything, she didn’t want to feel like looking on the opposite end of the bar any longer.

Within the next hour, her vision clouded and the four men were long forgotten, making her question whether they were imagined in the first place. The date’s hand now resting lower, lips stretching to fill the space between them as he leaned down to capture her ear with compliments on her outfit tonight. He’d been used to seeing her in pencil skirts and cigarette pants, the recent college grad being the hottest topic amongst the male employees. However, the dip of the neckline and hug of her jeans left her drowning in praises with eyes trailing over every inch of visible skin.

She didn’t complain. Perhaps it was due to alcohol replacing the blood in her veins, or solely due to the fact that it had been some time that she’d been laid. Nonetheless, she excused his blatant advances, entertaining the possibility of sleeping with the same man who’d made his first move through buying her a coffee during his lunch hour that at the time she’d thought was lame. Maybe it was time she lowered her expectations.

It hadn’t been her fault, that she’d known clear as day. With how close she had been sitting to her date, the two barely took up space for one person. However, she suddenly felt a harsh nudge at her back, lunging her forward to collide with her date’s chest, which caused her to reach out and push away to see who her attacker was.

She began apologizing out of instinct, until her eyes focused and ears curled at the sound of a silky, dangerously low voice that nearly sent her flying over the bar counter itself.

“My bad,” his voice rang arrogantly, licking his full lips perfectly pink. “Didn’t see you there.”

Her eyes locked onto hazel eyes, ones that felt so familiar as they enveloped her, to his pouted lips in a cocky smirk, and finally to the tattooed arm that grasped her forearm as if he was steadying her, completely aware of the fire that shot up her arm as he held her in a firm grip.

A choked noise erupted from her chest, and the man leaned back to size up her own date as well.

“Pretty girl you got here.”

And with his kind, yet backhanded remark, he turned his back and left, palm lingering on her wrist a bit longer than the rest of his body had.

With a pale face and spine on the verge of shaking, she felt as if she had just seen a ghost. The entire unexpected encounter left her in chills, yet her skin still burned where he had touched her. It couldn’t be home, no way. She definitely had too much to drink.

Until her date spoke up in a much less shocked tone than he had before, voicing her thoughts all while confirming her fears.

“Okay,” he started chuckling lightly, then took a deep breathe nearly as big as her’s. “Was that Kappy or am I just going crazy?”

Maybe it was just a guy who looked like him, she thought. Surely, he’d left with his conquer of the night, or perhaps even with Auston and the two would switch off after a few rounds. He’d do anything before speaking to her, wouldn’t he?

It wasn’t until she looked over her date’s shoulder, who sat sipping on only his second drink (he wanted to drive her home, after all) and yet once again, connected eyes with the devil himself. He held her there, frozen, with such a challenging stare that her heartbeat replaced the bass of the speakers. He allowed one eye to drop down in a sly wink, tongue darting to the corners of his mouth as he drank in her silhouette for a final time, and turned his back once again, finally out of the club with no other girl in sight.  

The two left not too long after that. She’d mentioned she suddenly felt sick, thinking that the alcohol had gotten to her and apologized for wanting to go home, although she wasn’t sorry in the slightest. His cologne began to invade her senses and his hold on her made her feel trapped, causing her to grow nauseous and wish she’d been pressing her face into the firm chest of another man. One who had held her hair back the first time she was this drunk in his presence, and the same one who told her he’d fight for her regardless of the competition.

The thing is, he loved to play games. And never though to play fair. Sure, on the ice he followed the rules and earned his spot as a crowd favorite. However, anywhere else, he was in control, and she scolded herself for being so naive. She debated with herself while her date helped her into his front seat, pulling her seat belt over her lap and buckled her in, making sure she was comfortable before jogging over to the driver’s side. Had it been any other day, she’d thank him, maybe even swooned. However, her head throbbed saying one name over and over, and it wasn’t his.

She gave him directions, ignoring the way his palm crept up her knee, knowing that the other man she kept thinking about would’ve rubbed small loving circles with his thumb on the inside of her thighs. It wasn’t long before she found themselves driving along a familiar street, lights glaring on the sidewalk she spent many nights on, hand in hand with someone who at the time she considered, above all, her best friend. Although she hadn’t realized until that exact moment, she wondered if it had been unintentional at all, as she lived on the other side of the city yet automatically told him to go this way. And even went as far as telling him to pull up to a luxury apartment building she no longer could call her’s, never thinking once to stop herself before she made a stupid decision.

She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, waving off his pleas to “make sure she got up safely” thinking this is where she lived. As sweet as he was, it wasn’t what she craved, and she wish she’d lost her appetite by the time she was knocking on the man’s door.

He’d welcomely opened it, almost as if he’d been waiting for her, and was conveniently shirtless with sweatpants hanging low. He met her lips expectantly as she threw herself on him, arms wrapping around his shoulder and fingers raking through his hair, holding on as if he would be stripped away from her in a heartbeat. She didn’t care that his pretentious neighbors could pass by any minute, because all she wanted to see, feel and hear was him. He groaned into her mouth, teeth clashing as he grabbed onto everything that he could with her chest pressed up against him. First her hips, then ass, and finally the back of her thighs as he carried her from the doorway, kicking it closed with his heel and moved them further into the apartment.

He pushed her against a wall, hands moving under his shirt to cup her breasts and bite at her neck, everywhere his lips fell left her scorching and writhing under him, merciless to his touch. She’d been moved and backed up again, this time with no clothes remaining and lips replacing where her’s had been. He mirrored her, grinding his naked body against her before reaching over and turning on the shower over their heads, water racing down the valley in between her breasts as he leaned down to lick it away. She knew he could still smell her coworker’s cologne on her, and wanted to tell him that his own musk was indescribably intoxicating, but could only manage a strangled moan as her trailed his lips farther down her body.

“You looked so good out there tonight,” she gasped as she felt him move his hand down to cup her heat, to which he replied by thrusting two fingers into her.

“I know.”

She had so much to say to him. She’d been rehearsing on her way up in the elevator. Yet as his fingers curled, she found herself shaking in seconds, begging him to continue as he teased her.

“Always such a fucking good girl for me,” he growled into her neck, sucking onto a particularly soft spot that she assumed no other man would ever be able find. His teeth scraped against her pulse, and she shook, unraveling and shaking, knowing she’d have fallen over if it wasn’t for him holding her up.

As she came down from her high, she could feel her chest tighten, making her collapse against him in exhaustion and full realization of what she was doing. He’d been so nonchalant during their encounter beforehand, and she questioned whether she’d known him at all. She’d ran back like a sick puppy, asking for attention and celebrating in it as if he didn’t plan to put her up for adoption the next day. And yet, she didn’t want to stop, nor could if she even wanted to.

Her sobs were muffled by his chest, as he quickly turned off the tap and moved to encompass her in his arms, wrapping her in a towel and sitting her on his lap as she shook in despair, coughing on her own cries and shifting to stop her from aggressively rubbing her eyes from stripping her vision away.

“Kas,” she weeped, clutching onto him, knowing that she’d leave before the day breaks and the two continue to pretend that they don’t know each other, and that they don’t care about each other in the slightest.

That couldn’t be farther from the truth, and she knew this as he carried her to the bed, moving her so that she rested on the plush pillows and rubbed her thighs in the most soothing manner. She didn’t know how many more apologies and promises she needed to hear before she could breathe again, but her chest tightened at the sight of him gently kissing the small ink on her ankle, one she’d spontaneously gotten with him only after knowing each other for six weeks.

He continued to move up her legs, and the rest of the night went on as the two continued to re-learn and memorize every inch of each other’s bodies, spending extra time fawning over the way each other’s lips molded together and their bodies fit like puzzle pieces. He eventually collapsed on her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she swallowed the tears that threatened to pool over again.

“Please stay.”

He had whispered it into her hair, and it had been so soft, she wondered if he’d even said anything at all.

Yet she did, and didn’t want to think about why as wrapped a leg over his and he pulled her even closer than before.

The two never slept that night, instead choosing to bask in each other’s warmth and mixed scent sticking and coating their skins. No more words were exchanged, and she held her breath, slowing her heartbeat down to match his. And even after climaxing more times than she ever had before, she craved for him to be closer in every way possible. And for once, she finally knew he felt the same.

The sun began to peak out from his curtains, ones that she’d picked out when they first moved in together. Slow sliding down his frame, she once again attempted to leave the bed, cringing at the cold air as she lifted the blanket just enough to stretch a leg out to the floor. Before she could place a foot down, an arm reached out to grab her waist, pulling her back into the bed as the sheets twisted at their connected hips.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbled, pressing his face into her neck as the raspiness scratched at her ears.

She combed her fingers through his hair, sighing as she looked at the time on the clock already quickly approaching noon. Her head pounded and his weight crushed her, yet she felt far more comfortable than she had in awhile.

“Home,” she shrugged, only to be met with a confused daze, eyebrows furrowed as he moved to sit on his elbows, pushing her hair behind her ears.

He hadn’t said anything in response, moving to lift the blanket and settle in between her thighs again, reminding her of the times she’d wake up beside him every day and what they had entailed, and she wondered if he was just mocking her all along.

It was clear that neither wanted another friend in the lives, knowing very well that the two of them could never stay as such. Instead, they waited, and waited, and continued to wait until the day that their “just one more night” finally turned into their final night. And oh, what a tragedy that was.

[sierrabinondo]

woodland creatures tour - day 8 (falls church)

finally got around to starting the final journal. life picks back up so quickly for me when i return from going anywhere, really, so it’s hard to stick to little projects like this. but i probably could have benefited from writing this sooner after the actual last day of tour haha. it’s funny how we only leave for a week or so but it feels like our lives shift so drastically during that time. it really does take time to snap back into reality and accept normalcy.

after a good night of bullshitting until super late (we tried to put on hot ones around 2:00 am but all passed out shortly after) we grabbed coffee and breakfast at coffeeology (i THINK that’s the name) in greensboro. we stopped at a shop literally across the street from the venue we played last year, new york pizza. seeing that place again reminded us of playing to literally our tourmates destination dimension and maybe like 3 other people in the room, versus the couple dozen we played to last night. the main band that played the gig that night literally sat outside the entire show with their friends and only came inside for when they had to play. it was disheartening, to say the least. this time, we didn’t play to a crowd that was there for us, but we played to so many more people who actually stayed inside to watch us. 

i wish i could remember this drive, i didn’t have any work to do so i think this was the day i bought untitled goose game and i was playing it a little bit haha. we listened to some music and just enjoyed the trek to our last gig on this run. of course, we started to hit traffic as we approached falls church, which is in the DC area for anyone not familiar. however, we were still making okay time. we could make a detour to drop our bags at the hotel in vienna, get food, and then run our dual band cover of uneasy hearts with pulses. forgot to mention this in the jacksonville journal lmao, i approached kevin with this idea for the last show of tour super casually and we did end up deciding as a whole to go through with it! 

the hotel in vienna was such a strange spot, but it was kind of cool? we stayed at the vienna wolf trap hotel hahaha. all of the decor was SO DATED but it was still pretty okay. the guy at the desk was nice, we somehow got on the topic that we were a band on tour rand he gave us late check-in for free! ended up not needing it. but it’s the thought that counts haha. we arrive to the venue and jaime’s girlfriend rebecca is there to greet us :’) poor girl drove their RV all the way down to virginia alone, and that thing drives slowly. but then that meant jaime could ride back up to jersey with her which was good. 

it is insane how at home we feel at falls church. i guess everyone south of maryland is just way fucking cooler than the northeast lmao, but it’s like pulling up to play somewhere at home in jersey and running into old friends. i can’t get over that we have that in a state hundreds of miles from home. it was good to see familiar faces and be back at the vfw. our friends’ band to michigan, with love was also on the gig, and our newer friends in science penguin joined us on the show as well! it was an all-around homie fest. i rolled up to the venue with the remainder of the trulys i purchased the night before, and shoved the box in the fridge haha. i was ready to just chillll. 

because we have played here a handful of times, it is also now tradition to walk across the parking lot and go get korean fried chicken at the restaurant next door. it fucking sucks, we always arrive just in time to eat before doors and i normally can’t eat jack shit because of fried/spicy food being horrible for my voice. i ordered bibimbap and then 12 wings to go, for after the show lmao. or a snack after we play!! but i ended up forgetting to FUCKING eat them AND they just sat out overnight in the van so they were toast. goddamnit. i think the restaurant is literally just called bbq fried chicken, the way they fry their chicken is just perfect. the sauces are all delicious and everything besides that on the menu is also tasty. 

i wanted so badly to break my last set of tour curse. it’s definitely a self-imposed, silly, superstitious thing, but my last set of tour iS ALWAYS HOT GARBAGE. i always for sure mess up. and this was probably the best last set of tour i’ve had but still not my best performance all of tour haha. i got lost the bridge of murder mountain and couldn’t hear my bandmates for some reason? fucking embarrassing but!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cannot stress enough how much fun it was. it truly was. fucking, we’re about to play pixelated and i’m trying to give my SHPIEL about not being a JERK musician and i hear the sounds of “smooth” by carlos santana featuring rob thomas faintly playing through my in-ears. i rip them off and i’m like, what the fuck is going on LMAO. surprise, the pulses. gang were behind it, and tyler, taylor and kevin come dancing up to the stage. i was DEAD. we never do last day of tour pranks so we were fuuuully unprepared hahaha. it was so funny. my meme now takes on a whole new meaning!! 

most importantly this show felt like such a fun celebration of tour. pulses., as they did all tour, hyped us up during almost every song and went off for synapse fires. we are too fucking lucky to have them as friends. they really helped make every set and every show feel worth the hours of travel and sometimes stress. to look out and see their faces in the crowd and singing the words uplifted us each night. it’s unfair that we live so far apart. it’s like how they say your soulmate could be literally anywhere in the world but you won’t know until you go look??? it’s like that but with finding supportive friends. i’m not sure if we’ve stressed this enough but this tour gave us strength to keep going as musicians, due in part to their friendship. we always joked like how the fuck we’re supposed to just go on not playing shows together or seeing each other all the time but it really does suck lmao. i was in my feelings in both a good and bad way, soooo i immediately scurried off the stage to go grab a truly the second we were done HAHA

it’s always so sad to watch your friends play their last set of tour, too. well moreso bittersweet! but you know that it’ll be your last time seeing them play for a while. i enjoyed every single minute. i love watching them play hometown shows, too. halfway through we jumped on stage to do the uneasy hearts cover, completely unrehearsed, and i’d say we did a pretty damn good job. such a fun way to send off the woodland creatures tour. i had always wanted to do something like this, where two bands play on stage at once (holla me versus i nd the artwork of). the energy the whole song was so infectious, it was fun to see people in the crowd go off too. also, fucking KRIS KHUNACHAK shot this video with TWO ANGLES holding both his cameras at the same time. i still can’t get over that.

i love that pulses. played you already know as their closer, it was the perfect way to wrap up their set and the best bookend to the setlist they chose. kevin would get on the mic every night and speak to the crowd, dude is just really good at being a performer and resonating with people. in jacksonville he sat down and everyone followed his lead haha. it was fun to dance one last time with everyone as we watched pulses. kill it before the tour came to an official end. we then gathered outside to take group pictures. it’s the part you don’t wanna get to, because it signals farewells in the near future, but we took some really great ones. 

post-gig taco bell plans were foiled, but someone recommended the silver dollar diner nearby. diners outside of jersey are normally horrifying but i trusted the people we were with. we piled back in our vehicles and rolled 20 heads deep to the diner. it was actually a really sick diner with tons of vegan dishes and pretty tasty food. i got chicken noodle soup, red wine and an ice cream sundae because i am a freak of nature. we ate up like 3 tables and sat altogether, just bitching about having to return to real life the following monday. but also, trying to plan the next time we would see each other. already!! and!! talking about doing more shows together. we try to work with different people all the time but there are a select few bands we would tour with or gig with again and again and again and pulses. are one of them. after how much fun this run was it’s pretty hard to imagine not doing this again. it just... makes sense. so much sense. and it feels wrong to not do it again lmao.  

goodbyes were bittersweet. we huddled in the parking lot by our van to say goodnight and see ya later, one by one. fuckin, tyler is moving to nashville very soon so we all probably won’t see him for a hot minute :’----------( thankfully everyone else really isn’t that far if we planned a weekend trip to meet halfway or if we wanted to make the trip out to each other, thank god!!! i don’t know what i would do if i couldn’t always have a part of this tour with me, somehow or some way.

afterword

was thinking of adding a lengthy epilogue but it’s essentially just me openly sobbing in the van the entire ride home hahaha. you’d think that every single time it would get easier to come home but it doesn’t. i know why touring impacts me as much as it does emotionally, but when the bittersweet acceptance of coming home pours over into tears like it does, i feel kinda silly. i’m sure that there are musicians who are constantly gigging that would love nothing more than to be home more, and i know that if i was in their shoes i would come to dread touring, too. 

i really, truly wish i was in a place, or that my bandmates and i, were in a place to tour more often, but for now we have what we have. and that’s okay. i want to share something beautiful our friend charlene posted today that deeply moved me: 

This is the moment. I’ve made it.

People always ask me “what are you gonna do when you’ve made it?” I need you to understand something; I’ve already made it. I am living out my dreams. It’s not easy and obviously I would only hope that’s I will continue to grow, to reach bigger goals, to push the limits. But I’ve already made it. This is the moment. I won’t let myself miss out on the beauty of life that’s right in front of me because I’m too worried about something that may or may not come tomorrow. This is the moment.

[not-fuckmegentlywithaslurpee]

At the Altar (Connor Murphy x Reader)

A/N: Hey guys! So I think I poured my soul into this fic??? I generally take like a week to write things, but I wrote this in two days, and she’s pretty long too. I had this super bizarre dream about getting married to Connor Murphy and decided to turn it into this? I changed a lot though aha. Please send feedback, it would suuuuuper appreciated.

Word count: around 4000

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, intense emotions, a random “best friend” named Zella (named after Zella Day lmao), fighting, presumably a couple of anxiety attacks, and just all sorts of intense feelings

You were merely minutes away from your ceremony. You had just put on the dress when you got a text from Connor telling you he had to speak to you. You frowned, but nonetheless wrapped a bathrobe around yourself, and made your way down the hall to the hotel room you two would be staying in.

Connor stood in the middle the of room, clad in a black suit that you’d helped him pick out. He looked stunning. “Hey, what’s up?” You hugged the bathrobe closer around your body, trying to keep the surprise by obscuring your dress from view.

“What are they doing here?” Connor crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching you expectantly.

“What do you mean?” You asked, taking a step towards him.

Something in Connor shifted, and the tension in the room became palpable. “Oh don’t give me that, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He seemed almost speechless like there were too many words coming into his brain, but he couldn’t which ones took priority. He let out a frustrated breath. “I was just walking around greeting guests, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I see my parents. And Zoe. And at first, I thought maybe they were crashing our wedding—doesn’t seem too out of character for them. But then your parents were telling them ‘how happy we all were they could make it.’” You felt your stomach drop. “Do you want to explain to me why my family is here?”

You bit your lip, afraid to speak. You had intended to warn him this morning, but with everything… it had slipped your mind. Standing across from him now, you could see etched all over Connor’s face how terrible of an idea this had been. Circling the truth would only make things worse. “I invited them.”

It was the answer Connor had been expecting, but a look of betrayal crossed his face all the same. Then there was a silence that almost enveloped you. You watched Connor, gripping your bathrobe like it was your lifeboat, trying to find some way to turn this around. Connor turned away from you, gazing out the window, so perfectly calm it was almost terrifying. “I didn’t want you to regret not having them here,” you said softly, scared to make your voice above a whisper. Everything suddenly felt so fragile.

His voice was flat. “But that really wasn’t your decision to make, was it?”

“I—”

“No,” he whirled on you. “You don’t get to go around acting like you know what's best for me. Going behind my back? During our wedding?” you tried to speak again, but he continued, not letting you. “We’re not fucking playing dolls Y/N, you can’t just rearrange everything whenever you feel like it.” Connor ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. “You couldn’t bear to have a husband who might have his own baggage or, or—his own fucking issues. Is that it?”

Tears were wetting your face, but you ignored them as you took another step towards Connor, hands outstretched. “I’m not trying to fix you,” you tried to meet his eyes. You needed him to hear you—needed him to understand.

“No,” he said, resigned, making his way to sit on the bed. “Just change me.”

His words stung. You’d been together all these years, and that’s really what he thought of you? Really who he thought you were? “Of course I’m not trying to change you,” you responded, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Connor didn’t respond. He wouldn’t even look at you. You kept reminding yourself that Connor lashed out when he was hurt, and riling him up would only make things worse. You lowered your voice again. “I’ll send them away. I’ll tell them it was a misunderstanding, and that they need to leave.”

Connor let out a laugh, but it was humourless and misplaced as it sat in the space between you. “No, let them stay,” You furrowed your brows, confused by his change of heart. He shifted his gaze back to you, and his expression was unreadable. “But tell them I won’t be attending.”

At first, you thought you hadn’t heard him correctly.

How can you not attend your own wedding?

Your heart sunk before you even fully processed his words or what they meant. It was as if you were having a nightmare. This all felt too surreal and awful to be happening. “No, Connor, I’ll just send them—”

“You broke my trust. I'm not—” he cut himself off, burying his head in his hands. You stood there, numb. “You lied to me. I’m not marrying you like this.” He didn’t meet your eyes as he shattered everything into a million pieces.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your whole body was shaking, and you were searching for words that could fix this—that could make this better somehow. But you came up with nothing. “Just… tell them it’s off. We’ll talk about this later.” He said, his eyes trained on the floor.

Your mind went blank. Looking at Connor, you realized there was nothing you could do. You turned on your heel and left the room.

~

You didn’t bother to take your wedding dress off.

You were a ball of hurt and mortification; the best day of your life was ruined, the most important relationship you’d ever had might have been as well, and at your core, you knew it was all your fault.

Everything was so broken that all the little things felt so irrelevant in comparison. You didn’t care how sad it was to be sitting to the side eating your own wedding cake as your mother stood in front of everyone to announce that your wedding was canceled.

Due to the expenses of the whole event, people were invited to stay and eat the food that had been prepared. Most people had the right mind to leave as soon as they could, but a few braved the somber remnants of the event. They drank champagne and ate pieces of cake, sending regretful glances your way. Your Maid of Honor and best friend Zella sat with you, a glass of champagne in hand. Periodically people came up to you and gave their condolences. You barely knew how to respond except for a meek “thank you for coming.” If you had been in a regular state of mind, their apologies would’ve made everything worse, but your head was underwater. Almost nothing could make you feel worse.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Zella asked, putting her hand lovingly on your shoulder. You shook your head, putting another forkful of cake in your mouth. It tasted incredible, which made you really angry. She let out a sigh, taking a sip of her champagne.

The venue was mostly empty now. You’d booked rooms in the hotel across the street because it was so close to where you were supposed to hold your reception, and it would be easy to get ready and then walk over. Now the building mocked you as it stood there, the window to you and Connor’s room visible from where you were seated. “I can’t believe he left you at the altar,” Zella said disdainfully.

You groaned, shoving more stupidly delicious cake in your face. “Well, he didn’t really leave me,” you muttered, the cake impairing your ability to speak. You grabbed the champagne from Zella’s hand, taking a long sip to help you wash down the dessert. “He’s like a five-minute walk away. He just stood me up.” You had whiplash from how quickly everything had gone wrong. “I just… I dreamed of this day for so long, and just like that, it all came apart.”

Your friend opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything one of your cousins came running up, face red and alarmed. “Y/N, it’s your mom—”

“What?” You were on your feet in seconds, the urgency in their voice scaring you.

“She just collapsed. Your dad said it was a heart attack? The ambulance just got here, and right now they’re driving her—” your whole world went quiet. You didn't know it was possible to feel both freezing cold and scorching hot at once, but your body was at odds, and your brain just sat there doing nothing. What happened? Why couldn’t you breathe?

Your cousin's lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear anything. You vaguely felt arms around you. Zella. She had her arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up.

The two were talking frantically, but they may as well have been speaking in another language because all you could hear were the words heart attack over and over. The next time you looked up, your cousin was gone. Your body was shaking. You realized you were crying, but you didn’t know when you’d started.

Zella was trying to get your attention, repeating your name over and over. You locked eyes with her, searching for some kind of answer. “We’re going to meet them at the hospital, Y/N. But first, we have to go take your dress off. Your dad is with her, so she’s not alone.” Zella’s voice was soft like she was trying to coax a small animal out of hiding. You could barely see her. Your vision felt like watercolour.  

Another sob racked your body, but your friend just hung on tighter. “She’ll be okay,” she kept repeating, over and over, as if saying it would make it true. She led you through the hotel, past rows and rows of doors. You were fighting to breathe as Zella helped you down the hall towards the room you’d gotten ready in. Once you were inside, your numb hands started pulling frantically at your dress, trying to get it off of your body. You needed to get it off. You needed to get it off. After a few more tugs you gave up. You started backing up until your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sat down. As soon as the mattress had caught your weight, you curled in on yourself. The tears were coming faster than before. You felt ripped open.

“What’s happening?”

You hadn’t heard Connor enter, but somehow his voice had made its way through your panic. He sounded concerned, almost desperate, and you could picture the face he was probably making. Everything about him had become so known to you, and in any other situation that would’ve brought you peace. Now it only made you ache. You started breathing in short bursts, your body tensing up as if it was trying to squeeze itself to death. You could hear Zella explaining what had happened, and her words only made things worse. Everything was way, way too real.

You vaguely felt two hands on either leg, right at the spot where your knee turns into your thigh. Through the heavy fabric of your gown, you could feel circles being rubbed lightly into your skin. “Hey,” Connor said softly. “Y/N, look at me. Please.” You were shaking, your arms hugging yourself in a death grip. You wanted to dissolve, to stop existing. Instead, you lifted your head.

Connor’s warm eyes met yours, searching. Your gut twisted, but before you could bury your head back between your knees his hands came up to either side of your face, helping you stay upright. “Hey,” he said again, as his fingers skimmed over your cheeks, wiping away the tears that were overflowing. “Try to breathe with me, okay?” He started taking slow, exaggerated breaths.

In, out, in, out, in, out...

Zella was unlacing you wedding dress behind you, but you barely noticed. All your effort was going into breathing. You focused on the rise and fall of Connor’s chest and the sound of the air leaving his lips. You willed your body to cooperate, but you were shutting down. “I’m right here okay, just focus on me.” He tucked some loose hairs behind your ear, and it sent a ticklish sensation through your body. You started to ground yourself slowly as your breath started coming easier. “That’s it, just breathe.”

As soon as he’d spoken, Zella announced the dress was unlaced. Connor pulled your hands from your lap and placed them on his shoulders so you could brace yourself as he helped you stand up. “Do you want me to wait outside?” He asked, taking a step back from you. You felt unstable, and Connor watched you, ready at any moment to step forward if you needed help standing. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

Waiting outside meant he wasn’t leaving. He was still here for you. Waiting outside meant things were alright, at least for now. “Yes,” you said, your voice wavering. He nodded, concern etched into his face. You didn’t know what to do or what to say. After a moment, he turned and left.

~

Connor offered to drive you to the hospital. You sat in the passenger seat, with your legs tucked up to your chest. Buildings were passing by you, and the sunny demeanor of the world around you felt offensive in the face of all that was happening. Anxiety did a waltz in your gut, keeping you locked within yourself. Your whole body was like a tightened ball of wire.

In your periphery, you could see Connor glance over at you for maybe the tenth time this car ride. He looked scared and unsure, something you weren’t used to. The air you were breathing felt thick, and you tried to keep your mind focused on the images outside your window, and not on all the worst case scenarios yelling at you from the back of your brain. NO matter how hard you tried to redirect your focus, one word was taunting you. You just kept hearing it, over and over.

Death, death, death—

Connor’s hand grabbed yours, squeezing. You felt yourself come back to the small car as you watched his thumb move up and down the side of your hand. It was the only sensation holding you to the moment. As long as focused on that small feeling, you could be okay. You would have to be.

~

You and Connor had walked into the waiting room, where your dad was sitting in anxious anticipation. With considerable side eye at Connor, your dad had explained everything that had happened, going into detail about how your mom had just collapsed while she was helping to clean up. Almost immediately after your arrival, a doctor started heading towards you with a clipboard in her grip. Your body tensed as you shifted to look at her. You searched the expression on her face, hoping it would betray what she was about to say, hoping it would betray she wasn’t carrying bad news.

“She’s in stable condition. The heart attack wasn't very severe, and luckily she was brought here quickly enough that we could help her before too much damage was done,” you were so relieved you could’ve fallen over. “She’s awake now but will be very tired so you can visit her, but not for too long. She’ll need to rest.”

“I’ll wait for you here,” Connor said, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable looking chairs. You nodded, mouthing a small thank you before turning to follow the Doctor to the room they were keeping your mom in.

She smiled when you walked into her. She looked bone tired, a juxtaposition the way she had been smiling at you this morning, back before everything had gone wrong. ‘Hi Mom,” you said in a small voice, leaning over to give her the gentlest, but warmest hug you could. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” she smiles.

The three of you sat in a grateful silence for a moment, relishing the calmness that had come after the storm. “God, what a big day.”

“You can say that again,” your dad says, reaching out and taking your mother's hand. “And guess who drove her here?” Your Dad said, raising his eyebrows at you.

Your mom frowned. “Who?”

“None other than the runaway groom himself.” Your Dad didn’t sound approving or disapproving, just amused.

“Dad,” you punched his shoulder, though not hard enough to hurt him, and he chuckled.

“Does this mean you guys are going to be okay?” She asked, the look on her face hopeful. She’d always been fond of Connor, so when you’d told her you two were getting married she had been overjoyed.

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Now that all peril was over, you realized you had to actually face the whole wedding situation, even though every part of you wanted to melt back into a sense of normalcy. “I really hope so.”

Your mom looked thoughtful for a moment before simply saying, “go.”

“What?” You furrowed your brow, not fully sure you were ready to leave your mom’s side.

She reached out and grabbed your hand. “I’m alright. Go home with Connor, you’ve had a long day. And you two have a lot to talk about.” She gave it a small squeeze before releasing it.

“Are you sure mom?” You asked, not fully wanting to leave her here.

Your dad patted your shoulder. “She’ll be fine, she needs some sleep anyway. I’ll hold down the fort.”

You looked between the two of them, trying to gage if they were truly fine with you leaving. A part of you was so exhausted though, so you decided not to fight it. “I love you both.”

You made your way back to the waiting room where Connor was sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked like he was falling asleep, but when he saw you approaching he came to alert. “How is she?”

“She’s good,” you let out a breath. “She wanted me to go home, get some rest.” Connor nodded, and both of you made your way to leave, walking beside each other in a perfectly matched pace. Neither of you spoke a word as you navigated the hospital halls.

Hospitals were never a place you enjoyed, but when you’d walked in merely an hour ago it had looked like a crime scene. But the washed out wallpaper and synthetic lights didn’t seem as grotesque anymore. They made you feel hopeful, almost.

“You look tired, I’ll drive,” you extended your hand expectantly, waiting for Connor to place his car keys onto your palm.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. However tired I look, you look about... ten times worse.” Connor unlocked the car and yanked open the driver's side door, careful not to scrape the car beside him as he maneuvered in.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, hurriedly getting in the passenger seat. “Uncalled for.”

Connor laughed, glancing over at you as you buckled your seat belt. “I’m sorry, but the truth hurts.” He reached over and pulled down your mirror, and you were met with two wild-looking raccoon eyes.

“Oh my god.”

“Yep,” Connor said smugly, moving to put on his own seatbelt. Your makeup had run down your face from all the crying, and trails off mascara were interrupted from where you had probably wiped the tears away. You reached a hand up to try and smooth down your hair: there was something crazed about the way it was sticking up all over the place, contradicting the perfect way it had been styled earlier in the day.

You stared for a moment longer, tilting your head from side to side to get the full view. All the stress of the day came washing over you, and you couldn’t stop yourself. You started laughing. “I look like a Tim Burton character,” today was meant to be perfect, but instead you got this shit show. “I’m like the corpse bride,” you said. “No wonder you didn’t want to marry me.”

Connor froze, his hand on the ignition. You wiped some stray tears from beneath your eyes, realizing you were starting to blur the lines between laughing and crying. “How many times can I cry in a day? You’d think I’d be dry at this point.” You reached up and flipped the car mirror out of sight. The girl in its reflection was mocking you with how close and cracked open she was. You couldn’t bear looking at her anymore. You couldn’t bear that she was you.

There was a vast silence as Connor seemed to be struggling to figure out what to say. “That’s not what that was about.” You were acutely aware of the divide between you two. The small space between your two seats suddenly felt like an entire ocean.

“No I know, it’s because I lied. I understand that.” You started wringing your hands, needing a movement to focus on while you spoke. “And I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.” Connor just watched you, not saying a word. “But you left me, Connor.”

“I didn’t leave you,” he said defensively. “I mean, how else was a supposed to react?” It was your turn to say nothing, turning your gaze out the window. “Did you really want to get married while I’m mad at you?” he didn’t elaborate further, so you pictured it. The feeling of distance between you tainting your wedding memories forever, his eyes avoiding yours, both of you only smiling for the cameras, a honeymoon spent in a bed facing away from each other.

You reached up and wiped another tear from your cheek. “No,” you said matter-o-factly, sounding defeated. You met his eyes, unable to avoid them anymore. “When I walk down the aisle I want you to see me and—” you breathed in sharply, trying to get the words out, but your chest felt like it was constricting. You couldn’t keep the cry from your voice as you said, “I want you to see me and be happy.”

Connor’s whole demeanor softened. You brought your hands up to your chest, pressing against your sternum, trying to take your sadness and trap it within your lungs. He reached across the divide and took both your hands in his, pulling you back to reality. “And I will be,” he said, giving you a small, melancholic smile. You nodded silently, more tears falling. “Today just wasn’t our day… and that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry I tried to force you to reconcile with your family. That wasn’t my place.” You gave his hands a squeeze. “But it’s not because I think you’re broken. I’ve never thought that, and I’m sorry I didn’t make that clearer.”

Connor brought your hands up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Thanks for saying that.” You pulled your hands from his grasp and reached for his hair, playing with the locks hanging loose at his cheeks. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, even if I was angry.”

You leaned across the seats and pressed a kiss to his lips, and Connor’s hands automatically came up to run lightly across your sides. You pulled away and smiled at him. “So where do we go from here?” You asked him, retreating back to your side of the car, eyes not leaving his face.

Connor pondered that for a moment. “Well, I still want to get married.

“Me too.”

“Why not…” Connor asked slowly, scrunching his face in thought. “Why don’t we elope?”

“Now?” you looked at him incredulously. “Connor, I look like a zombie.”

Connor laughed, sizing you up. “You’ve looked worse.”

“Connor!” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. He laughed at you, but his words didn’t sting. If anything, it made you feel relieved, the tension between you was finally dissipating.

“But no, not today. I don’t even know when. But maybe we should just have a small, personal wedding, just us. That feels a little more our speed.”

You mulled that over for a moment. You’d always thought you would have a big white wedding, but today had been so exhausting the prospect of doing it all over again seemed gross. “I don’t think we could afford any other kind of wedding,” you said, but your mind was already racing with possibilities. “And we could do it somewhere nice! Somewhere out of town.”

Connor grinned, and your heart warmed up. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”

“At least I’ve already bought my wedding dress, so that’s one less expense.”

“And,” the look he gave you sent shivers down your spine, “you looked… beautiful in it.”He leaned right close to your ear, speaking in a hushed tone. “I was jealous I wasn’t the one unlacing it.” Your breath hitched. He nipped at your neck, and you yelped, pushing him off you with a laugh.

“I was bawling my eyes out you perv!” You exclaimed, thinking back to the only time he’d seen you in your dress. You leaned back against the car door and gave him a look you knew would drive him crazy, “And you’ll get your turn, believe me.”

Connor took your face his hands, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around him, getting as close as you could without losing your balance. He pulled away to meet your eyes. “I look forward to it.” He pressed another small kiss to the tip of your nose, before going back to his seat and starting the car. “Now let's get home, you actually look like you're going to pass out.”

“Ha. Ha.” you said, giving him a mock sour look, a small smile peeking through.

He watched you for a moment, and you wish you could’ve captured the look of admiration on his face. You studied every part of him, hoping to hold this moment in your memory forever. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said as he started driving. You settled back into your seat, and not even a moment later you were fast asleep.

A/N: Thanks for making it to the end and reading this whirlwind of a story. I’m sorry it definitely covered a lot of different areas, and might not have followed the usual fanfiction structure, but its just how it had to go down. In my dream my mom died (well actually she faked her death), and Connor didn’t care soooo I changed this a lot from what it originally was. But being left at the altar, even in your dreams, SUCKS. Also, did any notice the themes of dissociation and anxiety? Because that definitely wasn’t me projecting AT ALL (nudge nudge sarcasm nudge nudge)

But ANYWAY Thank you SO MUCH for reading, I hope you enjoyed it <3 ~ Bardot