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ourtearsofrain · 1 year ago

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Feel Good (D.R.W)

Summary: You help your boyfriend release some energy after a long day.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: cussing, smut (18+ minors DNI), oral (M receiving), M!sub

A/N: Could not get the image of Danny looking like this as you suck him off out of my head so I had to write something. Also, please read the smut psa section in my masterlist post!

As your boyfriend smashed out his last drum solo of the night on the stage far in front of you, signaling the end of Highway Tune, lights began flashing as his brothers added to the cacophony of sound by playing random notes on their bass and guitar, the crowd erupting into a roar of cheers. With one final “Thank you everyone, and goodnight!” from Josh, the lights cut from a fiery red to a deep blue, and the four men waved their goodbyes as they set their instruments down and walked off stage. As soon as the stage was clear, the arena’s overhead lights came flickering back on, basking the crowd in bright white light as people shuffled their way towards the exits. You held back, figuring you were in no rush and the security would give you less trouble as you made your way backstage after the swarms of dedicated fans asking for copies of the set list had died down.

After 10 minutes, you figured enough people had left and began your decent to the floor, beginning to regret your decision to sit in the nosebleeds directly across from the stage as you attempted to step around the pools of spilled beer splashed across the stairs. Danny had offered you a spot at barricade, front and center directly in front of him, or off to the side of the stage in the wing, but you had declined both offers. You didn’t want to spend not only the entire opening act as well as the show, but also an hour before the show started, cramped in between screaming fans that had camped out the night before to get those spots, or chance being in people’s videos and pictures as you watched from the wing.

You made your way across the arena floor towards the barricade and show your backstage pass to a security guard standing by the gate; he takes it and lets you pass after thoroughly examining it for longer than you thought necessary. You make your way through the twists and turns of the corridors, attempting to remember where the dressing rooms were, eventually giving up and asking a stagehand to point you in the right direction. After thanking her profusely, you make your way towards where you hoped she had said they were.

Too lost in thought attempting to remember the exact instructions given to you, you suddenly run head first into Sam as he exits his dressing room in a hurry. “Shit, I am so sorry.” He starts, not realizing who he ran into. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Wow don’t sound excited or anything, good to see you too Sammy. Great show tonight.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound disappointed that its you or anything.” Pressing his fingertips into his forehead firmly, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Opening them again he continues, “And thanks, although your boyfriend seems to think otherwise. He’s being a real piece of work right now so just tread lightly. You looking for him?”

“Yeah, I am actually. Could you point me in the right direction? I cant seem to find my way around this place at all tonight. And wait, what do you mean? What’s wrong with Danny?”

“I think he tried a new brand of drumsticks for tonight’s show and they kept breaking, something about them being ‘Cheap pieces of shit’. I don’t know, he was pretty fed up after his third pair snapped at the very end of Highway Tune.” He begins walking away from you backwards, towards where you thought the performer’s entrance must be. “Anyways, I’m too tired right now to try and talk to him more so, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, he’s your problem now. His dressing room is 2 doors back, good luck.”

You throw a weak smile in his direction as he continues backpedaling. “Thanks Sammy, goodnight.”

“Night kid.” And with that, he turns around and disappears down the corridor.

Walking over to the door Sam had said belonged to Danny, you take a deep breath, attempting to release all the tension from your body before bringing your fist up to the wood and knocking three times. “Who is it?” You hear your boyfriend’s voice snap, although muffled by the barrier between the two of you you noticed he sounded strained and angry.

“Just me love, can I come in?” You ask softly, hoping your calm responses and tone will help deescalate your boyfriend’s mood, or at least not further frustrate him.

“It’s unlocked.” He replies, and you try the handle, slowly opening the door to find Danny standing in front of the dressing room’s vanity, still shirtless after the show and bent at the waist to look in the mirror, aggressively scrubbing at his eyes with a makeup wipe.

“Hey hey hey love slow down, you’re going to rub your skin raw.” You say as you close the door behind yourself and briskly make your way over to him, grabbing his hand to stop his attack at the smudged makeup surrounding his eyes. “Let me help you, sit down please.” As he follows your instructions, taking a seat in a chair closest to the vanity, you grab a new wipe, leaning down and cupping the side of his face with one hand as you begin to gently take his ruined eyeshadow off.

Closing both of his eyes, he lets out a long sigh, and you can see his body relax under your touch. After a few quiet minutes, he says, “Thank you.”, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, love." You discard the used wipe and grab a new one to begin on the other eye. "I ran into Sam in the hall, he told me about the drumsticks. I’m sorry they were frustrating tonight, is there anything else bothering you, or was it just that?”

He takes a sharp breath in, irritation painting his features as he recalls the events of that day. “It was that and its just been a long day. The twins have been bickering all day over the smallest things, and I think Sam has been instigating for entertainment. Either that, or he can’t read a fucking room. I’m running on like 5 hours of interrupted sleep, so I guess I have been more easily agitated. Like I said, it’s just been a long, frustrating day.” He opens his eyes after you finish wiping the last of his makeup off, tossing the stained wipe into a nearby trash can and taking a seat in his lap, straddling him. You place your hands on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze as he brings his hands up to your hips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain about everything today. Really, I’m alright now.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind listening, and I appreciate you telling me what’s bothering you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He sighs, letting his forehead fall forward to your shoulder. “No, I don’t think so. Venting helped, like I said I’m alright now. Just want to get back to the hotel and take a hot shower.”

You move one hand to the back of his head, and begin lightly smoothing your hand over his hair, playing with some of his curls. “Alright, then let’s get your things and head back to the hotel. You can take a nice hot shower, and then we can curl up together and pass out. How does that sound love?”

“M’not tired.” He mumbles into your shoulder. Pulling away, he looks at you with a slightly defeated expression. “You’d think I would be after getting shitty sleep and having a long day but, as much as I want to, I don’t know if I would be able to sleep any time soon. I don’t know, I feel like I still have so much pent-up energy left over, I need to do something to get it out.”

As you look down at your boyfriend beneath you, you remember how you felt tonight whenever the screens on either side of the stage showed him; how the light caught his sweat-soaked skin, how his arms looked as he played, how his tongue poked out from behind his teeth whenever he was caught up in the music, and how he threw his head back, mouth open as if an unheard moan was escaping him, as he pounded out the finale. A mischievous smile crosses your face as you bring your hand at the back of his head back down to his shoulder and continuing its decent, joined by your other hand as you slowly run them down his pecs and out to his sides. They come to a stop on his hips, just above his belt. You lean forward until your lips are centimeters away from his. “I think I know how we can fix that.” you whisper, lips brushing his.

“Oh? And what-“ he starts, before you cut him off with a searing kiss. As the kiss becomes more desperate, his hands grip your hips and you grind your hips down onto him, causing his mouth to fall open slightly as he lets out a quiet moan. You draw back, letting your eyes roam over him, from his flushed cheeks and blown out pupils, down his chest, and eventually landing on the area of his metallic pants just below his belt buckle that's becoming more and more strained by the second. You bring your gaze back up to meet his, as he looks at you with a needy want painted across his face.

He clears his throat, attempting to clear his head as well. “How about we… uh how about we head back to the hotel now and… and continue this there?” he breathily stutters out.

You lean forward once more, catching his lips with your own quickly. Keeping your face mere inches from his own, you reply, “Sounds like a plan.”, voice laced with desire. You stand up and begin collecting his belongings scattered around the room, finding a sweater and tossing it towards him, still seated in the chair. “Well?” you ask expectantly, “Are we leaving or not?”

He zones back in, having been lost in his thoughts of what you could possibly have in store for him, and frantically pulls the sweater on, getting up from the chair and making his way to the door with you by his side. “You sure you don’t want to change into sweats or something?” you question, letting out a small laugh of amusement from how eager he was to leave the arena.

“Nope, I’m alright.” He insists, despite his failed attempt at discreetly loosening his pants by pulling down on the fabric at his crotch.

“Alright,” you shrug, “Your choice.” He holds the door open for you and as you pass him you lean in, whispering, “Doesn’t matter much anyways; they’ll be coming off sooner or later.”, continuing out the door and towards the hallway you had seen Sam go down earlier.

“You coming love?” Looking back you see Danny still standing in the doorway, face flushed and lips slightly parted. He snaps his attention back to you and nearly slams the door, quickly making his way to your side, slotting his hand into yours as you exit the arena.

The second the door to your room closed and both of your shoes are kicked to the side, your hands are planted firmly on his chest, shoving him against the nearest wall. He lets out a surprised gasp before you connect your lips with his, one of his hands coming up to tangle in your hair and the other on your lower back, pressing you flush against his front. You playfully bite down on his lower lip and feel his hardening dick twitch as he lets out a groan. Your hands roam downwards to the hem of his sweater, and your lips leave his long enough for you to pull it off his arms and over his head. He replaces his hands on you as you begin nipping at the sensitive skin on his neck, eliciting a soft sigh as Danny leans his head back until it hits the wall behind him.

You start to trail your lips down his neck, over his collarbone, between his pecs, and down the center of his abdomen, stopping yourself on your knees at the base of his happy trail, just above where he needs you most. With his chest already rising and falling rapidly with shallow anticipatory breaths, you slowly run your hand from where it rested just above his knee upwards along the top of his thigh. It comes to a stop on his dick, and you run your hand back and forth over it, squeezing gently. His moan is followed by a breathy “Please...”. You stand and bring your lips to the shell of his ear, relishing in his small shiver from your breath on his skin.

“Please what?”

“You…” he pants, “You know what. Stop teasing.” You turn away from him, beginning to walk across the room, leaving him whining at the loss of contact. He grabs your wrist, stopping you about a foot away from the bottom of the bed. “No, wait!” he sighs. “Please… please make me feel good, love.”

You turn, giving him a wolfish grin. “Now, was that so hard?” Pulling him towards you, you turn the two of you and lightly push him towards the bed, causing the back of his knees to hit the base of it. You move your hand to his cheek, holding the sharp edge of his jaw and bring his face towards yours, keeping your eyes locked on his blown-out pupils. “Don’t worry baby, I’m going to make you feel so good.” you whisper before shoving him backwards onto the bed.

He lands on his back and slowly moves up until his head is resting against the headboard as he’s propped up on his elbows, one leg bent at the knee. You gradually make your way up the bed on your hands and knees, coming to a stop between his legs as you begin another attack on his lower abdomen, lightly sinking your teeth into the soft flesh there before soothing the sting with soft kisses. His fists grip the sheets as you pull your mouth away and leisurely undo his belt buckle, undoing the button of his pants and drawing the zipper down. You maintain eye contact with him as your hands find his waistband and hook your fingers under the hem of both his boxers and pants, taking your time pulling them down his legs as his cock springs free of its constraints. Once free of his clothes, you grip his thigh with one hand and take him in your hand with the other, causing him to gasp at the contact. You look him in the eyes as you lick a stripe up the underside of him from base to tip, swirling your tongue over his already leaking head. You finally wrap your lips around him, sinking down and taking him all the way despite your gag reflex screaming at you to stop.

“Oh my fucking god.” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall back. You pull yourself off him completely, causing him to open his eyes in surprise and groan in protest.

“I want your eyes on me until you’re cumming down my throat, got it? You’re not getting shit if I don’t see you watching how good I’m taking you.” You wait for a response, cocking an eyebrow when you don’t get one. “I said, got it?”

“Yes. I got it, I won’t look away I promise. Please keep going.” His whine turns into a loud moan as you sink back down onto him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You bring your head back up, your hand pumping his base as you hollow your lips around his head, bobbing up and down. He struggles to keep his eyes on you, but keeps his promise as you continue fervently sucking him off, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets below him. “Fuck baby, that feels so good.” he gasps as you let out a hum of satisfaction. “Just like that, oh fuck I’m so close.”

You moan at his words, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he screws his eyes shut, his back arching off the bed as his head loudly hits the headboard and he lets out a string of moans and curse words, and you feel his hot release coat the back of your throat. His arms give out and he collapses fully onto his back, panting heavily as you pull off of him, cleaning any remaining cum off him with your tongue.

You move up the bed until you are laying on your side next to him and gently brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, cradling his cheek with your hand and turning his face towards yours as you place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “How about we go take a shower and get you better cleaned up, love?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you in blissed-out confusion. “What about you? You took care of me, now it’s your turn to feel good.” he half-whines.

“Tonight was about making you feel good, baby. You’ve had a long day, you need rest. We can cuddle up and fall asleep right after we shower; I’ll be alright tonight, I promise I don’t need anything right now.”

“Fine…” he grumbles. “But I’m gonna repay the favor sometime soon.”

You laugh, “Sounds like a deal.”, gently kissing him before getting off the bed and pulling him to the edge, leaving him sitting there as you strip your own clothes off. Once undressed, he wraps his arms around your abdomen, pulling you in between his legs as he peppers your stomach with soft kisses. You let him, placing your hands in his hair and playing with his curls for a few moments. “Alright, c’mon. Let’s go.” you say as you grab his hands and unwrap him from yourself before tugging him to a stand. You let go of one hand as you make your way towards the bathroom, pulling him along behind you.

You shower in comfortable silence, finally finishing 30 minutes later after frequently interrupting your routines with short, lazy make-out sessions. You dry off and change into your PJ’s, him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, and you in light shorts and one of his T shirts, and complete your nighttime routines side by side. Once finished, Danny crawls into the bed, holding the sheet up for you as you crawl in next to him. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his chest in a bear hug and you bring your hands up to rest on his chest, forehead against his collarbone as you tangle your legs together.

You’re the first to break the silence; “Love you.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as your breath fans across his chest.

The last thing you hear before drifting off into a warm, deep sleep is his sleepy response of, “Love you too.”

#fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #greta van fluff #greta van smut #gvf smut #danny wagner x reader #smut

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graysparrowao3 · 2 days ago

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The Northern Bastards: Love Confession Character Analysis

I'm not sure what level of fanfic brain-rot / rarepair self-wankery this is, but I kind of really liked the thematic way the confessions finally happened, so I wanted to write it out, literary analysis style.

First, some relevant traits as described in the series:

Aradin's overall characterization:

Doesn't know when to shut up.

Speaks before he thinks and doesn't consider the impact his words may have on others.

Escalates conflicts through force and snark.

Doesn't emotionally self-regulate.

Some level of insight into self and emotions.

Selfish when considering emotional needs, less so for physical or material needs once they are comfortably met.

Rugan's overall characterization:

Uses words sparingly and carefully.

Emotionally unavailable.

Shuts down any interaction that gets too emotionally vulnerable.

Lives in constant survival mode; insight less important than external threat risk.

Attempts to deescalate conflicts by disengaging.

Selfish when considering physical needs, emotional needs ignored/repressed, material needs tied to Zhentarim activity.

So how do those elements come through both in each confession and also in how they respond to the other's confession? Let's now explore how the characterization and development of both characters is seen through their verbal admissions of affection after 70,000 words, 13 installments, and half a year of denial on my part:

How Aradin confesses love and Rugan responds:

Rugan chuckled. “You’re easy to please.” “I’m really not,” Aradin said. “I’m a high maintenance, argumentative, foul-mouthed son of a bitch, but you don’t seem to be too bothered by it, that’s why I love you.” Rugan failed to keep an instinctive reaction flashing across his face. Aradin winced. “Bollocks.” Rugan’s hands didn’t move in the delicate, cautious pause. “How about this,” he said, slowly. “I’ll forgive you saying a bit too much if you can forgive me not saying enough.” “Deal,” the adventurer replied quickly. “And just in case it changed your mind about me fucking you and you staying, I didn’t mean it. I don’t even really like you. I mean for a start, what’s going on with your hair? Grow it out or shave it, make a damn decision. And I know you had your team banner as it were, but I don’t think yellow is your colour, makes you all washed out-” Rugan placed his hand over the other man’s mouth. “Aradin," he said. "Shut the fuck up.”

Analysis:

Aradin doesn't know when to shut up, doesn't consider the impact of his words, and has been aware of what's going on for a while and even practiced these exact words, so it doesn't occur to him what he's saying until after he said it. He's too selfishly involved in his feelings to realize this is a fairly major thing to be admitting, especially in the context of everything that's happened, and isn't careful in how he speaks, so he 'says it like it is', giving a fairly accurate assessment of himself and his feelings, and only realizes it when he's prompted by the reaction it elicits.

Then, he regrets it not because he cares about having said something wrong, but because he's waiting to be entirely invalidated and for Rugan to backpedal the progression they've made because he usually can't handle this sort of thing and has a visceral reaction to it that Aradin doesn't want to deal with. He starts spouting pointless low-effort insults to try and deflect from any potential negative reaction Rugan has to his confession and more importantly to lower the level of vulnerability in the conversation by being a little shit.

When Rugan responds he demonstrates his character growth and returning of the affection, because even though he doesn't say it back, he doesn't shut it down, ignore it, or deny it, in spite of how uncomfortable he is with it being out there. He accepts it for exactly what it is, acknowledges it even if he can't bring himself to speak what was said even in repeating it, and only asks to be accepted for where he is back.

When Aradin then is worried that this reaction isn't entirely genuine and also is self-centeredly not fully listening and worried about himself, Rugan stops it both physically and verbally, showing that's he's ok with it, can handle the vulnerability, and doesn't need to pretend it didn't happen like usual. He's not bothered by these ridiculous insults, he just doesn't need protecting (or to listen to this kind of wankery lol).

How Rugan confesses love and Aradin responds (some time later):

He was curled up behind his partner, buried in the soft scent of his hair and the sharp smell of the sex they hadn’t washed off yet. He was still coming to, the new day finding him slowly, teasing him from undisturbed sleep into the promise that existence could be a thing he actually enjoyed. He moved his fingers affectionately over the younger man’s arm, tracing down to his hand where he laced their fingers together and nuzzled closer into the nape of his neck. Rugan bathed in the sensation of being wanted and succumbed to the effortless joy of it. He really, really, what-the-fuck-did-I-make-all-that-fuss-about wanted it too. His arms tightened slightly around the nude body, he pressed his lips against his lover's warm skin and hummed a few precious words. Aradin’s thick brows gathered together over his barely conscious eyes. He mumbled into the pillow, “did you just say what I think you said?” Rugan lazily shuffled down into their sleepy embrace. “No idea what you’re talking about.” For a moment, there was nothing. Then he felt a tight squeeze on his hand.

Analysis:

Rugan has been so averse to being emotionally vulnerable and not saying how he feels - and couldn't, because of the risk to his emotional and quite literal physical wellbeing - that the words aren't even written out. I know what he said, so do you, he, and Aradin, but the literal words that are typed reflect his pattern of emotional communication; an absence of it. He was finally was able to say it, but the way it is described (i.e., it is not) respects and reflects how difficult it has been for him to reach that point as well as validating the slight questioning from Aradin and putting the reader in his perspective over what those words could have been (though we both know exactly what they are), and keeps the text at a distance from his admission whilst allowing the confession to happen. Baby steps.

He says it during a moment of complete comfort and safety, where they're still half-asleep (both more vulnerability and potential deniability) and where he's realized what being happy actually can entail, without any context of conversation or force or angst which is usually when he breaks and any vulnerability comes out in a highly aggressive defensiveness. He's able to have this reflection because he's no longer fighting for survival, is free from the Zhentarim completely, and is able to be safe to actually acknowledge and have such vulnerable emotions. The moment isn't a highly intense risky one, and even so he says nothing more than the exact words that he wanted to say and then retreats immediately into deniability to avoid staying too long in the vulnerability with a veneer of sardonic humour.

When Aradin responds he demonstrates his character growth and returning of the affection by not escalating through forcefulness or snark. He knows what was said, and could very easily confront, mock, or have an 'I told you so' moment that would inevitably ruin the moment and interrupt Rugan's willingness to be vulnerable. But, in fact, well well well, would you look at that!!... he finally actually manages to not say anything at all.

#rugan x aradin #this has no audience but me but this sort of thing is my jam #so stoked when people somehow find the Sam Drake analysis #edit: I stand corrected <3

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shifuaang · 2 years ago

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Conglomerate thoughts about Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume 3 under the cut. Please do not read if you don't want to be spoiled! TLDR: I loved it.

I suppose I should preface this by saying Guardians Vol. 2 is my favorite MCU movie and that I hold no real affinity towards installments outside of the Guardians in the Marvel Universe. I used to be a pretty active and engaged fan, but Endgame swiftly put a stopper on that. I was very worried about how this film was charged with the task of picking up the pieces of a fractured and, frankly, careless and poorly written conclusion to Phase 3.

Long story short, I should have never doubted Gunn.

Gunn did an expert job at navigating the perimeters that Endgame thrust on him, ensuring that the plot didn't linger on what happened without neglecting the catastrophic weight of Thanos's actions. Bringing alternate universe Gamora into the fold seemed like a monstrous and difficult task. I have expressed before how much I hated the idea of Quill chasing down someone who isn’t even ‘his’ Gamora and trying to win her back, but Gunn handled this with absolute grace, assuring that everyone stayed in-character in their reactions and interactions. There was no backpedaling or continuity with how the Guardians were written in Infinity War and Endgame as I feared there would be. Gunn picked up from where we left off in Vol. 2 while still allowing us space to mourn Gamora's loss. Rocket's trauma and character development was taken seriously again. Every member of the Guardians had a well crafted arc and was given the appropriate amount of time to explore said arc.

The animal and child abuse was hard to watch. It felt way more violent than anything we've ever seen in the MCU, but I'm almost glad that it was. I feel that loss and violence is almost glossed over in the superhero genre. We don't quite get the full scope of devastation and impact that villains have caused in their quest for domination, colonization, and perfection. We've been desensitized to death and torture to a degree. Even the snap™, which most would site as the most evidentiary form of brutality in the the MCU, did not hold nearly as much weight as the actions of the High Evolutionary. Thankfully the plot never seemed like a hit over the head with a message of EUGENICS BAD! It was more a tragic exploration in what eugenics can do to an individual, how it desecrates the environment, and how the quest for perfection is gratuitous and futile.

In spite of the heavy subject matter and darkness of the film, Gunn still maintained the thread of humor that we love from the Guardians. I laughed out loud more than a handful of times, and every laugh came at a point in the film where it was necessary. There were no quips or jabs there to deflect from the seriousness of what was occurring, just enough to give the audience time to breathe. I am so glad that Guardians Vol. 3 was the first MCU movie to get the green light in the 'fuck' department. I can think of no franchise more deserving, and the way it was used was perhaps the funniest joke in the whole film.

I could write an entire essay on Mantis's arc and her development and how much she means to me as a character, but maybe (probably) I will save that for another day. To keep things short, I appreciated her continued empathy and sense of humor in such a bleak situation and after such a hard life. I see so much of myself in her, and it's incredibly moving to have someone represent aspects of yourself that you thought would never be portrayed in the superhero genre because they are more difficult to express emotionally and cerebrally. She's so important and so brilliantly acted by Pom, and I adore how much agency and confidence she was allowed.

As for people who say they didn't like the ending because it 'destroyed' the found family aspect of the Guardians, I never got the impression that these characters weren't going to meet up again and that they stopped being family. There was no discussion on how they were 'bad' for each other or that they'd be better off individually, which is normally the consensus when groups split in media. Quill should spend the remaining time his grandfather has with him. Mantis should go explore herself and her independence after years of captivity and compliance. Drax and Nebula should rebuild, and create, and love on the new occupants of Knowhere, as they've been forced to spend most of their lives being destroyed and being destructive. Rocket and Groot should carry on the legacy of the Guardians, protectors of the universe. And Gamora has clearly established a loving family of her own with the Ravagers, which is what she deserves. Everyone's ending felt pertinent and cathartic, and we were left with a sense of hope and a twinkle of potential for what could come in the future.

Thank you, Gunn and the cast and crew of this film, for making me cry the hardest I have in a theater since Toy Story 3, and for ending my favorite MCU series so beautifully. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better conclusion.

We'll all fly away together, one last time, into the forever and beautiful sky. 🚀

#guardians of the galaxy #guardians vol 3 #james gunn #anti endgame #just in case lol #review #gotg #gotg spoilers #gotg vol 3

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sueske · 2 years ago

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it’s actually interesting about the whole Sakura character development stuff because Kishi actually did try to make Sakura more popular, like actually went out of his way to boost her character up initially. however the fact was that so many people in Japan just hated her. And Kishi tried to combat this by giving her more action scenes and development in early part two (which objectively now is probably the peak of all Sakura centric stuff in the entire series) and went out of his way by drawing her with the “prettiest” female character traits in the series

but unfortunately according to an interview fans in Japan still despised her character (to where people were literally yelling at him on the streets that she sucked lol) and wanted Hinata to be the main heroine instead and it just progressed to the point where he just got tired of drawing her and essentially just gave up on her character completely. and this makes sense too because after her battle with sasori her character just completely fell off and even backpedaled where any meager development that she had and was pushed aside and once again she was the sobbing girl on the sidelines begging for sasuke to look at her

it is a shame though that kishi gave up on her, even more so because he felt his efforts to work on her felt unappreciated, because he really could have done something great with her character arc. but in the end he did say that he sucks overall at writing female characters in general and uhhh yeah….at least he acknowledges it

Did he try to make her more popular though? It seemed like he had no grand plans for her initially but because she's part of the main team he had to make her more relevant, didn't he say before she completely slipped his mind? but anw I don’t think he went out of his way to make her more popular. Otherwise he wouldn't have written her like he did, consistently, throughout the entire story. Any time she had a good moment he immediately backtracked. Relentlessly. Wait let me get some of my tags up I kinda spoke about it before:

Which is why, after everything, people STILL hate her character. I had no idea they yelled at him on the streets tho 🤡 as for hinata, he also made sure to say in an interview that hinata is not like a traditional heroine, that she stands in the shadows as opposed to by the hero's side, so I don’t think he really cares about the public wants to see with these girls.

Also this whole idea that he can't write female characters is crap – he just doesn’t want to. he knows exactly what he's doing. Gosh if he was having so much trouble writing them just pretend they're male and then slap it on to a female character's design, you see what I mean? There's no excuse. He just didn't want to. In Naruto specifically he did an okay job with Tsunade ig, and outside of Naruto there's also Saori. So he can. He just doesn’t want to.

#anon #ask #anti s #my stuff

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alvin-draper · 15 days ago

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Was looking for a post that said what I was thinking but no such luck so here I am.

Bucktommy break-up: as a writing decision and as a character decision

As a writing decision: it makes perfect sense. Buck's life's been smooth-ish since he got with Tommy and shaking it up by giving him break-up angst and maybe a few ill-advised one night stands again is no bad thing. If you're a buddie truther then you can see this as him spiralling before falling back on Eddie. If you're me then it's just the writers trying to insert some more drama after wrapping up most of the other subplots this season.

As a character decision: Tommy did the deciding here. Was it in character? I think so. We don't know how many serious relationships he's had since Abby but that was at least 5 years ago for him so it's likely he's had a couple. I reckon he's got some baggage. He's clearly trying to protect himself, and Buck actively making a move to further their relationship which has freaked him out into backpedaling way too far. We don't know anything about Tommy's support system, or if he even has one. Is someone gonna give him some good advice, or is he gonna spiral off the back of this? I understand why he made the decision but equally I'm not sure it's entirely justified in character just because there were absolutely no warning signs. It still works, because sometimes there aren't any, so I buy it pretty well.

Buck going to Eddie's after? He's his best friend and honestly the show could do with reinforcing their relationship a bit. I do not think Buddie canon is gonna happen anytime soon if at all, but I do think they need to bring back Buck and Eddie being close friends the way they were doing seasons 2/3/4/5 and bring Chris back into it as well. We better find out that Buck and Chris have been calling this whole time because the other option is they're just drifting apart as Chris gets older, which is entirely plausible but I don't like it so no.

And Chris still not being in this season? I think probably twofold: some angst/not being able to resolve the Kim thing any other way, and a practical decision because the actor's busy with life. He's 18 now I reckon he's just got shit to do. That doesn't seem to be what they're saying in interviews, but honestly I'm not sure they let the Eddie angst hit a low enough point to justify the decision to leave Chris out. He's had his little comeback arc (rip the moustache u will be missed) but I think he could've done with more of a focus on his struggle in the episodes. Hopefully now we get a healing thing where he's determined to better himself to be a better dad for Chris, and he'll work more at reconnecting. And spend time with Buck and help him out and not leave him wayside in all this. Helping Buck could bring Chris and Eddie closer again? Because they both care. I've hit the rambling point of the post where I've said everything I meant to and am just going on a bit.

Where will it go from here: I don't think this is the last we'll see of Tommy this season. I reckon They'll either get back together or part more amicably than that. Maybe not, but honestly Tommy's pretty popular and I think him and Evan worked and it's be a shame to dump him now. I think (hope) we'll get some more buddie friendship scenes over the next couple episodes, and I think we'll get Eddie talking to Tommy. Baseline thoughts but that's where I'm coming from. I do not think we will get canon buddie because I am familiar with this song and dance and also pretty much believe them when Eddie says 'oh sorry im straight' because that checks out to me.

#9-1-1 #wish I was a Buddie truther but nope #for sure Evan was/is head over heals for Eddie but I'm still firmly on the Eddie's straight train #crushing on a straight friend is a critical part of the queer experience anyway #loved the ep had to pause it to go insane multiple times #and Madney pregnancy! YAy! really like where they're going with that!

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ohmyasmodeus · 4 years ago

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𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ♡

i wrote my soft asmo hcs as requested, and got addicted to writing about the boys being soft ! all the brothers just need love ♡ please enjoy, i had so much fun with this !

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳

✧ He’s not just touch starved, he’s touch starved. The avatar of pride doesn’t care for being vulnerable around others and doesn’t tend to notice just how affected he is by it until you show up. Even then, he initially rejects it, pulling away from any touches you offer because he wants to prove to himself that he’s better than that.

✧ But he’s not.

✧ Lucifer eventually begrudgingly accepts the touches, and is especially weak when you casually rest your hand on his arm in the middle of conversation. Normally, he would shrug off anyone else’s hands, but he lets you touch him any way you like when you’re alone together. He’s addicted to the warmth you give off when you two sit together to study, and might even lean into you unconsciously. Sit in his lap, kiss his head, any affection drives him crazy inside; just don’t mention it lest his pride takes over and ruins the moment.

✧ Lucifer doesn’t seek out your touch, if only to give off the guise of not needing it. Even in the most intimate moments, he waits for you to come to him, but it’s obvious to you how much he needs it. You savour the gentle smiles and the sweet affection he offers when you rub the tension out of his shoulders. He needs you to help him relax.

♡ 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯

✧ Mammon shamelessly craves your touch, but gets crazy flustered receiving it in any way. It’s obvious from the start that he likes the affection and knowing that you like it when he’s near. He always has to be touching you in some way— he has an arm tossed lazily around your shoulder, his knee bumping yours at the breakfast table, or his arm resting against yours on the desk during lessons.

✧ His favourites are when you cling to him. He likes being wrapped in your arms, or when you hug him from behind. Pull him into bed for a cuddle and he’ll never let you go, forcing you to stay in his arms. Comment on the way he blushes whenever you’re near and he’ll be burying his face in your hair while telling you to shut up.

✧ He doesn’t ever hesitate to ask you to touch him. His greed extends to you, and he’ll be pulling you close with a hand cradling the side of your face, making you promise that he’s the only one you’ll ever touch like this.

♡ 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯

✧ This man has never been touched in his life. Leviathan is pretty convinced that the affection he wishes for is never going to happen, so when you get up close and personal, he rejects it out of fear at first. A human touching him? Gross.

✧ Don’t take his word for it. Just lean into him and put your hands on his chest and make him feel like a man, make him feel like he can protect you and he’ll be nervously putting his own arms around you while blushing furiously. Levi loves it when you run your hands through his hair and down his sides. Hold his hand while in front of his brothers and he’ll spontaneously combust. He doesn’t understand why you’re treating him this way, but he has no room to complain.

✧ When he wants affection, he’ll do things like try to hold your hand, but immediately backpedal and stutter out excuses when you catch him red handed. He can’t ever bring himself to admit that he wants you, but you give him a little confidence booster every time you grab his hand properly and call him your sweet boy.

♡ 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯

✧ Satan just isn’t the kind of demon to be touch starved. He seems pretty satisfied with what he has and has never really thought of craving affection, but when you come along… by god, he’s smitten. You touch his hair for the first time and he’s ready to purr like a kitten, even if he’s distastefully commenting on your audacity. He’s embarrassed by it. To him, it’s like tasting something you’ve never had before and realising that it’s the one thing you’ve been missing your entire life.

✧ He loves it when you do little things like fix his bow tie and neaten his hair. You see his cheeks flush pink when you rest your head on his chest. Rub his back or kiss his collarbones and he’s all yours. Satan learns to give the affection back as well, tracing patterns into your skin and just relishing in being able to be vulnerable with someone he cares so much for.

✧ In time, despite his lack of experience with tenderness, Satan is excellent at communicating his needs. It’s clear when he waits with open arms to cuddle with you, or extends a hand so he can hold yours. He asks clearly, and always makes sure you’re comfortable with what he wants.

♡ 𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴

✧ Touch starved would be the wrong term. Asmodeus is no stranger to touch and receives all the touching he needs. If anything, he’s starved for genuine affection and tenderness. You attract him with the depth of your personality and how genuine you always seem, the way your touches are always so warm. Asmo takes all you offer.

✧ Much like Mammon, he’s somehow touching you at any given moment. He’s a fan of the more romantic gestures like walking together with his hand in your back pocket, and likes it when you have your hands on his waist or thighs. He loves it when you rest a hand on his thigh as you use the other to focus on doing schoolwork.

✧ Asking is all too easy; all Asmo has to do is tackle you into a hug or surprise you by pulling you close with an arm around your waist, sighing about how he’s wilting from the lack of attention you’re giving him. What a horrible fate, being ignored by your own lover… But all you have to do is kiss his cheek, and he smiles like he’s fallen in love with you all over again.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣

✧ Beel is a big teddy bear and thrives on affection from his brothers, so naturally, he’s the same with you when you come into the picture. He takes an instant liking towards you, your disposition absolutely magnetic to him. The physical affection is gradual, with Beel slowly settling into a routine of good morning hugs and looping arms with you.

✧ He loves hugs the best! Big bear hugs where you two squeeze each other half to death, but he also likes it when you stroke his jaw and cheeks with the back of your hand. It gives him the opportunity to kiss your fingers and smile.

✧ When Beel needs affection from you, he isn’t afraid to just grab you or pull you to his side. He’s a gentleman though, and tends to ask bluntly if you want him to hold your hand or pull you into his lap like he always does.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳

✧ After his isolation in the attic, Belphegor is as touch starved as Lucifer is, if not more. He isn’t sure if you would ever let him touch you again after the way he treated you— but that won’t stop him from trying to squeeze into couches with and get close to you. He craves your comfort so badly.

✧ Belphie is always weak for the kind of cuddling where the both of you just seem to envelope each other, legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other tight. Massage his scalp gently or stroke the back of his neck with your fingers and he’ll be shivering and melting in your arms. He often comments on how nice you smell.

✧ Asking for affection isn’t something he does verbally or straightforwardly. Instead, he gives you the most tender, yearning gaze, taking a lock of your hair to kiss as his gaze begs you for affection. When you two sit together, he’s inching his hand towards yours to rest his pinkie finger over yours. As with all things, Belphie’s love for you is endearingly quiet.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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dirtychocolatechai · 4 years ago

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meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy.

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you.

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries.

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable.

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.”

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately.

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...”

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?”

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.”

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.”

“No, no, I know...”

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.”

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found.

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing.

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.”

Shit, she smells so good...

“Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face.

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?”

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills.

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch.

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it.

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 4 years ago

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We Met Within This Screen (final chapter, pt. 2, the end.)

part one here

A/N: Thank you guys for all of your wonderful comments and the love sent my way for this fanfic. I've had a great time writing it despite its rocky moments. I really hope this ending does it justice; I've never gotten to write a proper conclusion to anything like this before. It's the first time I've ever completed a multi-chapter work such as this, so I'm happy. 🍾🥂 Here's to finishing what you start, and enjoy. :)

Just shy of a half-hour later, he was finished telling the story. She had sat the both of them down on the couch, one on each end, and he explained in great detail everything leading up to current-day. Tales of the ooze, Mutagen, as he'd told her; the rat named Splinter, a man formerly known as Hamato Yoshi, who had fathered and trained them; and lastly, their mission. Be of service, protect the city; have a good heart. And Donnie most certainly had a good heart. He was not the outlandish figure she'd first saw and recognized him as. He was the guy she had come to know as Bo, Donatello, who was the same person she'd talked to this whole time. At some points of the retelling, he got excited to share some of their adventures. This came after their humble beginnings of struggling in the sewers. Donnie was happy to share after so long of dodging saying anything about his life.

She nodded along to this talking. "...and that's how we're here," he said finally, putting his hands on his legs. "Since we're here, any questions?"

She replied with a no, looking over at the TV that had remained on the entire time. Donnie stayed seated as she got up and got the remote, also glancing at the clock on the wall, which read 10:45 PM. She switched the TV off. Looks like it's time to go, he thought. He rose from the couch and fixed the pillow he'd displaced.

"Donnie, this has been...strange," and for a split second, his face fell, "but not bad! Though, it is getting late."

"Oh, no—yeah, no, I understand," he sputtered bashfully, activating the staff which collapsed back into its smaller form. He tucked it away somewhere on him.

For a moment, he simply stood there as if wanting to say something, but the words never found him. "So it's goodbye?" he asked quietly. The way he said it made it seem like he thought it was forever. But it was on until they figured out how to pick up where they left off after that night. Undoubtedly, things would be different going forward. He didn't know if that would be good or bad.

"Only until next time," she told him, a small smile present. He visibly relaxed. "You're still my friend, Donatello."

He smiled. "I knew that. Totally."

Showing himself out, he stepped onto the balcony, looking back one last time before he bounded away. He held up his hand and gave a small wave.

But she hadn't said bye yet, so he stuck around for a moment longer, though it was met with an awkward silence. He was beginning to go over the railing when she ran over to the door, stopping him. "Wait," she said, and he crawled back over the railing with a confused but curious expression. "I actually do have a question. Just one, before you go."

"Sure," he said, inviting her to go on. She had to look up to see his face being so close.

Tenderly, she asked, "Why'd you not tell me, after all that time? Would you have ever chosen to do this if it hadn't been for an accident?"

Donnie couldn't give her an answer on that.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. "I couldn't, [y/n]. We've been through this."

"I only wanted you to trust me, Donnie," she responded. And that was, really, how she'd felt. Throughout their entire friendship, it had felt one-sided in that regard. Trusting but not trusted, but she hadn't any idea of what was truly going on, at the time.

Donnie pondered her question: If there hadn't been some kind of divine intervention, would he have ever had the chance to have something more with her than words on a screen?

He swallowed as she took a small step closer.

"I just wanted you to care about me." His volume was barely above a whisper. He clenched his jaw briefly, as if he was concerned over his own words. His golden-brown eyes wandered from your eyes on downward.

"I did—I do care about you, what makes you say that?" she questioned, puzzled.

He vaguely gestured at his body, "Wouldn't this be a little hard grasp over text? Isn't it hard to accept even now?"

Though she didn't answer, he had a feeling that he was correct about one of those things—she did have to wrap her head around everything. Tentatively, both watched as her fingers brushed against his own. His hand moved along with hers, seeing and feeling the delicateness. Until they laced together as well as they could, her heart steady while his was beginning to race. His hand even trembled ever so slightly. He would have wanted to stay like that forever, had it not been for the fact that he was uncertain where they now stood. Where he stood in your eyes. What did this mean?

Putting her other hand on his shoulder, she tried to conjure a smile. But it flickered out as she murmured, leaning into him, "Does this answer your question?" She had to stand on the tips of her toes, while his hand tightened in hers involuntarily, almost too shocked to bend down for what was coming. The one thing he hadn't accounted for in their meeting, not once—and it was happening.

He seemed like he was going to stammer something, but her lips closed the gap and planted softly on his.

There is no way.

There is no way this is happening—but I'm seeing it with my own eyes!

Donnie lost all control the moment her lips pressed against his. His hand squeezed hers, shaking as his heart pounded in his chest. I'm shaking. Why am I shaking?

His eyes which had been wide were now fluttering closed. For the better half of the kiss, every other thought beside the ones of her was ejected. He couldn't have pulled away, even if he'd wanted. He was hers completely. That was irrevocable.

It was only until she decided it was time to step back did they part, him looking at her entrancing face once more, and her swallowing heavily. That kiss had been something she'd dreamed of before. Never Knowing it would be held on the smooth, moist lips of a humanoid turtle, rather than those or a human man. In fact, she had to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. Her hand slid down his shoulder and onto his chestplate. It was rough, almost possessing a grain under her fingertips. Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand. He thought he felt a tingle from the trail her fingers left.

Donnie was on Cloud Nine for a solid minute before coming back to his senses. "That...I…" he struggled to find the words. For a brain that worked so fast, he felt utterly slow, then.

She cracked a smile, face contorted into one of hope and a hint of embarrassment. "Is it too late to say that I've waited to do that for a while now?" she laughed.

"N-no," he said, still trying to organize his thoughts. "No, it isn't."

"Okay, good," she replied with a relieved exhale.

Her hand went from his chest to his arm, feeling the taut muscle as it traveled down. His hand enveloped hers while the other lifted, going to touch her cheek. "Does this mean…?" he trailed off.

"It means I really, really like you, Donnie. I have since we played that game."

He gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, "I really like you, too," he mimicked, voice soft.

Maybe even that was an understatement.

"I think I…"

A noise nearby alerted him, and on instinct, he set her behind himself on defense. Don't be an attack now, of all times, he thought, listening closely. He told her to be quiet and to not say anything, using his forearm to gently push her back into the apartment. He pulled out his staff.

"Sup dude and dudette!" an all too familiar voice beamed, the orange-banded turtle appearing hanging upside down from the balcony above. [Y/N] shrieked, and Donnie nearly bashed his brother in the head, sucking in a sharp breath as he accidentally backpedaled into her. Mikey waved and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, we didn't see anything...except for you two kissing, that was really unexpected!" He flipped down onto the balcony, and Donnie grumbled something, going in for a zap to his brother's plastron. Mikey dodged it, this time. Donnie tried again; unsuccessful. "Oop—saw that one coming," Mikey laughed, jovial.

Donnie groaned, half-embarrassed and half-annoyed, "Mikey, what are you doing here?"

Waltzing into her apartment, Mikey crossed his arms with a wink sent the human's way. "Michelangelo, wingman to the big special D right here," he introduced himself brightly, "but you can call me Mikey."

Donnie slapped his hand to his flushed face, hoping that he was the only one who noticed Mikey's less-than-classy wording.

"So you're all named after Renaissance painters?" asked [y/n], lifting a brow.

Exhaling, Donnie stepped between them, "[Y/N], this is Mikey, my brother. The one that—"

"Got you together!"

"—that got us into this predicament," he'd almost said, but he realized as Mikey said that, he owed their meeting all to him. It had all started with that talk they had had late that day, after patrol, and ended on her balcony, Donnie getting to experience a kiss for the first time. With someone he'd never imagined he would have ever been able to touch, let alone share something like that with. Yes, as much of a hassle everything up until that point had been, it was all thanks to Mikey.

Donnie grinned, turning to his brother and draping his arm over the back of his shoulders. "Yeah, you did," he agreed. Mikey smiled as he looked down at him with fondness. He wrapped an arm around Donnie's shell in return.

"You know it, brah. Oh, and I take cash or pi—"

"Don't push it, younger bro." Donnie rolled his eyes.

Waiiiiit a minute.

Mumbling for [y/n] to hold that thought, Donnie, suspicious, crept over toward the balcony. "We"?

Mikey tried to make chatter with her while he did so, mentioning how he liked what she'd done with the place.

He checked if the coast was clear first before leaning onto the railing on his shell, squinting his eyes. And he was not surprised at all to see Raph and Leo looking down at him from over the edge of the roof. Leo had his recognizable expression of: "You'd better wrap it up." Donnie drooped his shoulders and ducked back inside. Couldn't last forever, he thought. Despite whatever was waiting for him on the roof or at home, he could still smile on the day he'd had. He would be thinking about that kiss for weeks.

"I guess it's bye for real this time," he told [y/n], sad to go what felt like so soon, but really was content. The night could not have gone better. "I have to, you know, go get flamed by my oldest brother. Probably."

"We'll be in touch, Donnie," she replied. "Um...text me when you get home? Just so I know you got there alright."

Smiling, Donnie nodded.

Mikey budded in, "Hey, don't forget about me here."

Chuckling, Donnie headed for the door, taking Mikey but the upper arm along with him. They stopped one last time to waved to her before making their exit.

Leo and Raph met the pair at the top. Raph was the first to speak, asking skeptically, "And yer sure this girl is alright?"

"Positive," Donnie answered with confidence.

After a moment of trying to come up with some kind of remark, Raph let out a huff. "You got the nerve, I'll tell you that." He held out his fist ready for a bump, and when Donnie didn't immediately reciprocate, grumbled "Well? Don't leave me hangin', Don." Realizing what he wanted, Donnie went right in for the fist bump.

Pulling away, Donnie asked, "So you're not mad?" He gave some space between himself and the incoming Leo.

Raph scoffed lightly and shrugged. "I may not trust her, but I trust you," he responded, gruff as usual. "Just don't expect me to be all friendly and whatnot—I ain't doin' it."

"You don't have to do anything, Raph."

And then Donnie was face-to-face with Leo, who's intensely blue eyes were trained on him for a few seconds too long. Donnie wondered what he was thinking until he sighed, and then spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Behind Leo, Mikey was in awe.

"That's a new one," Raph chuffed. He left the circle to watch from the edge of the building. Mikey stuck around, but only far enough to be in ear shot. If something coming from Leo started off with a sincere "I'm sorry", he wouldn't miss it.

"Yes, you heard. I'm sorry," Leo admitted, bringing his eyes up from the ground. "I shouldn't have pressured you, Donnie. I know that you can handle yourself. I was just trying to protect you and our family," he explained, pausing to glance over at the other two brothers, "but��yeah. I'm sorry for pushing you, Don. I was kind of a jerk back there."

Deciding he didn't have any words good enough to say what he wanted to, Donnie simply pulled Leo in for half-hug, rocking him with him. Leo wore his lopsided smile as he gave Donnie's shell a slap.

"That...was…"

They stepped away from each other, staring at Mikey quizzically.

"...beautiful, bros," he finished in a whisper.

They stayed for a minute just watching the city go by, the clock ticking by later into the night. Donnie finally thought to ask Leo how Splinter was, because he definitely knew what was going down. He was a smart old man—and beside, Donnie had made no effort to pretend that wasn't what he was doing when he'd initially left. If Splinter knew, Splinter knew. He was still mildly afraid of Leo's response.

"You want the truth?" Leo questioned, his expression briefly changing to one of a cringe.

"I mean, I'd like to know what I'm in for," Donnie replied in an obvious manner.

"He was angry, at first. Didn't know you left until he was done with his talk with Mikey. Also surprised that you actually went through with it. But, after that...he seemed like he understood, in a way, I guess. I didn't ask questions. You'll have to confront him about it yourself, because he just sent me and Raph out to get you."

Donnie kept his eyes on the sidewalk below them, and the occasional person walking it. "And Mikey?" he asked, quizzical.

"He insisted," Leo groaned.

"You know I can't pass up an opportunity to see D get his first kiss!"

"Oh, shut up, you had no idea that was gonna happen. You just wanted to go because me 'n Leo were goin'," Raph argued, flicking his head. "Weren't you supposed to stay in by Splinter's orders?"

Mikey crossed his arms and turned away, "I don't have to take this abuse." He was, indeed, meant to stay behind. But the boy couldn't help himself.

Once the banter died down, they were left contemplating whether they wanted to stay out a little longer, or if it was time to turn in. It had already been a long night, but in honesty, Donnie wasn't ready to go quite yet. He still felt as though he had so much to say to [y/n], but he supposed that time had already passed. At least until next time, if or when that was. Raph took a break from his lookout and sat next to Donnie with a grunt. He wasn't good with mush or sensitive things, but he felt compelled to ask "What're you gonna do now?"

Donnie hummed in question.

"Well, she knows. And by the looks of things—erm—the look of one particular thing, you two are still goin' steady."

Ugh, they saw it. Donnie moaned, a cold flush coming over his face. I can't have anything private in this family.

Raph pushed him on his shoulder. "Ya shouldn't mack on someone by the doorway if ya don't wanna be seen," he jested.

"I don't know what's next, Raph," Donnie confessed. "We didn't exactly...make anything official after that."

Once they were back on the move towards home, they all dropped into the nearest manhole, but Donnie remained where he was, saying he would catch up to them. He was the fastest of the four, after all.

"I hope you're still awake," he mumbled to himself as he reached for his phone. They were close to home, anyway. And it was quiet. He typed:

"I'm almost home, [y/n]. All safe."

A couple of minutes later, she responded.

"Okay, that's good

Your brother is quite the character, by the way"

"He is who he is, lol"

"He seems nice though."

Walking down along the sewers, he took his time. What was a little longer after the night he'd had?

"Donnie, what were you going to say when Michelangelo interrupted us?"

He stopped in his tracks and thought, having nearly forgotten that he was going to actually say it. He didn't just like her—for the first time, he was sure he loved her.

"That I think I love you, [y/n]."

He regretted not saying it when he was with her, but he just couldn't wait.

There was a worrisome pause on her end in which he imagined she was staring at her screen thinking about how strong that came off, that it was uncalled for, that he was going too fast—

"I said I liked you

But that was not quite the truth

I love you, Donnie."

Golden-brown eyes sparkling, he let out a laugh, unable to contain his happiness, and the rest of the brothers smiled to themselves hearing the whoop of joy and excitement echo in the tunnel.

His adventure in love and friendship had started within a screen, but he was bound to it no longer. This was the opening of a new chapter in his life.

Tag list: @kokokatsworld @criminaly-supernatural @dianounais @spaceman-main @sheepdarkhours @raphaelsrightarm

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possiamo-andare · 4 years ago

Text

Just You (1)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.1k

summary: A new girl moves to OBX and a love triangle ensues. Your usual yearning, fluff writing :)

a/n: gosh, it has been too long. university has me swamped but since it’s the holiday break, i will try and update as much as i can. as of rn my other fic, sweeter, is on hold, while i try to write more and get back into the groove of things :) love y’all <3

Many people do not care to know the difference between new and old money. To the working class, new and old money were relatively the same. To some extent, that was true. People that had either new or old money were rich nonetheless but when you grew up rich like Rafe Cameron did, the difference was all that mattered.

The main difference was how the money was procured. Old money was passed down. No one from old money had to work since they were born rich. Their manners were taught at a young age. New money meant that they had worked for what they had. At some point, they were not rich and now they were. They were not as defined and they had to be taught, at an older age, how to act. Rafe’s mother used to say you could see who was from old and new money from their ties. If it was a man, their ties would be neutral colours, nothing flashy. People from new money usually had something to prove and so they would buy extravagant things. For women, it was their heels. Women from old money had small heels that were polished as well. Women from new money had tall heels and they had never learned that they should polish the heel along with the shoe.

Growing up as someone from old money, Rafe had normalized that there was a divide between the rich people in Figure 8. Of course, there was a divide between the Pogues and the Kooks but that divide was course and palpable. This divide was subdued and rarely ever spoken about. Kooks that came from old money lived on the west side of Figure 8 while the Kooks from new money resided on the east. This unspoken rule proved to be useful since the two groups of rich snobs never liked to speak to each other anyways. This rule had been in place years before Rafe was even born and he had thought it would still be there even after he died. That is, until Y/N moved in down the street.

It was at the beginning of June when she moved in. The first sign that things would end terribly was when her family pulled into the parking lot. Her mother drove a beat up blue Camaro while her father trailed behind in a black motorcycle. Most people that lived on the west side of the island didn’t have flashy cars but they were well maintained and not so loud. Everyone knew they were from new money before they even exited their cars. And when they did, it was confirmed these people had just become wealthy.

Rafe’s family, like most on the street, watched from their windows as a tall, burly man with a long black beard and sunglasses opened the truck of his wife’s car and carried two large bags in the door. His two sons, both similar in size and features, followed after him. They carried two pink suitcases inside as the man’s daughter and wife stayed outside to open their garage.

Rafe’s eyes glanced over their house. It was one of the bigger houses on the block but it looked more like a huge cottage than anything else. His mind went to the thought of hippies invading their neighbourhood. He gulped. If they were some type of laid back, motorcycling hippies, he’d go crazy for sure. He knew Sarah would love them though; she always complained about how boring their neighbourhood was. But boring meant normal and that’s what Rafe wanted.

As his mother gossiped on the phone, Rafe watched the mother and the daughter laugh together. The mother looked like a hippie. Her hair was tied up on the top of her head and it had clearly not been brushed. She wore a light green skirt that reached to her ankles which then led to the flip flops that she wore. A white t-shirt was tucked into her skirt and she had big bracelets of all different colours dangling off her wrists. The daughter’s style was similar to her mother’s. She wore pink bootcut jeans and a white crop top, black chunky platform boots pulling the look together. Her hair was different from her mothers and was let down to blow in the breeze. They all looked like polar opposites from everyone else living in Figure 8.

At first, Rafe could care less about the girl or her family across the street. Granted, he would religiously watch through the window for when she would come outside to ride her bike around the neighbourhood with her brothers, and yes, he would sometimes wait until she was outside for him to take out the trash but he didn’t like her. If anything, it was the opposite. Rafe was too good for her. At least, that’s what he led himself to believe.

The first time he spoke to her was two weeks after she moved in. His mother had told him to stay away from Y/N’s family and Rafe had done an amazing job at doing so. Unfortunately, that all stopped when he had to pick Sarah up from school. She had thrown up in the middle of one of her classes and since both his mother and father were at work, the responsibility was on Rafe to pick Sarah up and make sure she was okay. Although reluctant to go back to his old highschool, Rafe knew he’d be in trouble if he was late in picking up his sister. When he entered the school's administration office, he finally came face to face with the girl he had been watching for two weeks now. Except, her back was turned to him as she argued with the secretary.

“That’s what you call a vegetarian dish?” Y/N raised her voice, not particularly enjoying being ignored by the school administration. When she first had come to this school, she had checked off on her form that she needed vegetarian dishes for lunch. Now, everyday since she had come, they had served her horribly chopped up lettuce with vinegar.

“Miss -” Ms. Buzden said, placing her phone on hold. It was the student’s lunch break so she usually called her sister during this time but Y/N was keeping her from doing so.

“Y/N.” Y/N smiled, finally happy she had caught the woman’s attention.

Ms. Buzden rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. “Y/N, dear, if you have a problem with lunch, please take it up with the lunch ladies.”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the secretary’s desk. “I tried to, Beth, but she told me to come here. I will not be ignored.”

Rafe was almost as surprised as Ms. Buzden was when Y/N used her first name. As he stood behind Y/N, waiting for his turn to ask where Sarah was so he could sign her out, he watched in slight amusement at the fact she was nonchalantly complaining to the secretary.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you dear.” Ms. Buzden forced a smile, finally looking over Y/N’s shoulder to Rafe. “Rafe, sweetie, you’re here to sign out Sarah?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, knowing Y/N’s eyes were on his. He felt as if an imaginary spotlight had shown on him for a solo and he had forgotten the words. His eyes glanced toward Y/N for a moment but it did not help his stage fright. Her beautiful eyes were squinting in his direction and for a moment he thought he would faint underneath her stare. His eyes quickly returned to the secretary’s and nodded quickly. In an embarrassing turn of events, Y/N spoke before Rafe did.

“Hey, I know you.” Y/N’s bracelets clang together as she lifts her hand up and points at Rafe. “You’re my neighbour. You’re always watching me through your window.”

As the secretary busies herself with printing the paperwork, Rafe busies himself by stuttering and gasping for breath at the accusation she had just posed. In an attempt to save himself from anymore embarrassment, Rafe tries and fails at coming up with a good excuse. Instead, he denies the accusation entirely.

“I do not watch you.” Rafe stubbornly blubbers out. He’s trying not to seem so embarrassed but she’s caught him so off guard that there’s nothing else he can do.

Y/N snickers, watching the poor boy stumble on every word. For someone older than her, he was not very mature. “No, you’re right. Watching would imply a causal aspect to the activity. More like you stalk me.”

This time, Rafe boiled over with anger. How dare this girl accuse him of stalking her? Rafe did not chase after any girl, no matter how attractive she was. “That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it? To think everyone’s eyes are on you?”

Y/N continued to smile, unbothered by Rafe’s obvious rudeness. She shrugs, looking back to the secretary for a moment and grabbing her terrible vegetarian lunch before looking back to Rafe. “Not everyone’s. Just yours.”

And with that, she leaves the office. And Rafe knows he is screwed, because he just met the love of his life.

JJ Maybank shared almost everything with his friends. Emphasis on almost. They had always relied on him to be the funny one. To always goof around and take nothing seriously. So, when his dad first started beating after his mother left, he said nothing. He felt it was an unnecessary burden to put on the people that truly loved him. Eventually, the bruises and scars were too overwhelming to keep a secret anymore and he began to confess all his issues to his friends. But even then, as JJ tried to open up to the people he cared the most about, there was one thing he could never share.

He was scared of love.

Not just any love, but specifically romantic love. Every time he felt himself begin to develop deep feelings for anyone, he soon backpedaled and left them hanging. It was too scary to give himself to anyone. It would be a lie if he said it had nothing to do with his mother leaving. He had always believed that there was no love greater than his parents when he was growing up and when his mother left, it shattered him. Of course, he never blamed her for leaving considering how abusive his dad was but it killed JJ to know she did not want him to come with her. He had begun to believe that she didn’t think he was important to bring along. He believed that if she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave without him. That’s what scared him the most; the fact that someone can change their mind about love so quickly.

So, JJ ran at the first sign of love. And he never shared this with anyone. Until that day.

In early June, when Y/N had first moved to OBX, there was a Start of Summer Fair. Right after classes ended on the last day of school, people in the community organized a fair for everyone who was excited for the summer to start. It was exactly two weeks after Y/N had moved in. Exactly two hours after she spoke to Rafe. Funny how the world works.

Behind the fair, there was a small lake where rarely anyone ventured. It was usually muddy and no one in their right mind would go swimming there. With that being said, JJ wanted to go swimming there. He had spent a solid hour with his friends at the fair before becoming exhausted. It wasn’t so much that his friends were exhausting him but a girl named Anna was. He had gone out with her once and had never called her back (as per usual) but she had not picked up on the hidden messages JJ had given her. Instead, she followed him around during his entire time at the fair like a little lost puppy dog. Just as she announced she was going to the bathroom, JJ had almost died from boredom. Thankfully, her going to the bathroom let JJ slip away from his friends and sneak away from Anna.

“What do you want us to tell her?” Kie asked, watching as her best friend was breaking off from the group.

JJ shrugged, not possibly being able to care less. “I don’t care. For all I care, tell her I died.” A bit harsh, yes, but that’s how JJ operated. Abandon them before they abandon you.

The idea to hide near the lake hit him as soon as he left his friends. No one went back there, not if they wanted an infection. Although slightly disgusting, if that was what he had to do to get away and have a moment of peace, he would make that sacrifice. Unfortunately, he found no peace because the second the lake came into view between two thick trees, JJ saw a girl in the water. At first, he was going to leave, maybe even shout a quick joke her way for getting in the dirty water. But when he saw what she was doing, he became curious and couldn’t help but venture forward and investigate.

Y/N, too invested in what she was currently doing, did not see JJ approaching at first. Daisies had begun to grow around the lake, which was already odd on it’s own, but some of them floated on the surface level of the lake. Y/N thought a bunch of Daisies would be a good surprise for her mother so, in an effort to be thoughtful, she emerged herself, from the waist down, into the water. She was not afraid of the muddy water staining her white dress (she had worse stains on her clothes), even excited to show her mother the lengths she went to to get the Daisies. So, with one hand, she held onto a wicker basket full of Daisies and with the other hand, she grabbed a hold of the daisies in the water.

JJ watched in complete and utter fascination as this girl who he did not recognize, fearlessly went into the lake and plucked some Daisies to put in her basket. She almost didn’t even look real. He blinked quickly to make sure she was even actually there. When he opened his eyes and she was still there, he was glad he hadn’t imagined her.

Finally, Y/N sensed a presence that was not her own. Quickly turning to her right, she made eye contact with JJ and her face softened. He was the least threatening person she’d ever seen and something about him made her heartbeat pick up.

She brushed this feeling off and instead, with a small smile on her lips, spoke confidently. “Hello stalker.”

JJ blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps closer to the lake. “I’m sorry. Was just wondering what you’re doing here. No one comes here.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Y/N quips backs, a playfulness in her voice.

JJ thinks he might faint. “Um, well, I’m hiding.”

Y/N giggled. “Me too actually.” She grabs more daisies and puts them in her basket. She looks back up at JJ and speaks to him again. “Who are you hiding from?”

JJ gulps. He doesn’t want to scare away this girl by telling her why he’s come back here. He knows anyone else would judge him but, as he looks at her, he can see she would never judge him. “I’m hiding from a girl.”

Y/N nods, not expressing any disgust and JJ’s heart jumps for joy. “I see. Ex-lover, I presume?”

JJ shrugs. “We only went on one date.”

“Must’ve been a terrible date.” She jokes, and JJ realizes that she’s completely stopped what she’s been doing to listen to him.

JJ shakes his head, focused on her cute round cheeks. “Not really. She was nice.”

Y/N pouts. “Then why are you hiding from her?”

JJ feels as though it is too complicated to explain. And besides, how would he start? He’s never told anyone why he truly has never had a girlfriend. But something about this girl makes him trust her completely. He knows it’s the arrogance in her eyes. “I’m scared.”

Y/N nods, as if she understands him completely and he feels as though she does. “I see. You know, when I get irrationally anxious over something like this, I play the What If game.”

JJ’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

Y/N moves through the water and closer to the edge where JJ stands. When she arrives at the water’s edge, she reaches her hand out for JJ to grasp. He hesitates first and knows it’s because he likes her so much already and this will be the first time they will touch. The first time he’ll feel her skin against his is beside this muddy lake. Eventually, he grabs her hand and helps her out of the water and he knows, the second his hand touches hers, she’s his dream girl. His hands are on fire and he feels a pit in his stomach grow as her hand grips tighter onto him. There’s a spark and he’s sure there has never been anyone else that made him feel this way.

“The What If game,” Y/N starts, placing her basket on the ground. She starts to ring out the water from her dress but continues to keep eye contact with JJ. “is really easy. Here; tell me a fear you have about falling in love but make sure it starts with ‘what if.’”

JJ thinks for a moment. There are so many and he doesn’t know where to start. Finally, he chooses his biggest fear. “What if she leaves?”

Y/N smiles. “What if she doesn’t though? But, what if she does and then you find who you’re actually supposed to be with? The game is to just rationalize every irrational fear.”

JJ nods, a small smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “You’re not one of those girls who believes every breakup brings you closer to your soulmate?”

Y/N laughs. “Yeah, I wish. I’m not your manic pixie dream girl - wait, what's your name?”

JJ extends his hand, ready to feel her skin again. “JJ Maybank. Yours?”

Y/N smiles and shakes JJ’s hand. This should be interesting, she thinks. “It’s Y/N.”

“So, Y/N,” JJ starts, her name feeling good coming from his mouth. “If you’re not my manic pixie dream girl, then what are you?”

Y/N smiles. She was right. This is definitely going to be interesting. “I’m just yours.”

tagging; @tovvaa

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years ago

Text

With you, he wants it all.

Part 2!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1! Also, I totally meant to post this earlier but Taylor Swift’s new album wrecked my plans.

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 9972

The next time you wake up, the room is significantly brighter. You feel around in the cold bed, realizing Spencer isn’t there anymore. You have to force yourself to open your eyes to combat the overwhelming urge to roll over and sleep for another twelve hours. The clock reads 12:07. You can’t help but think you deserve more sleep as you force yourself into a sitting position. Once you finally sit up, you hear someone shuffling around, whispering in the other room. It’s too quiet to try to make out the voice, but you definitely heard something. Without too much thought, you quickly jump out of bed, grabbing the only thing you can find that even remotely resembles a weapon- the bible from the hotel drawer.

Slowly, you push the door open, getting ready to make a break for the door to the hallway at the first sign of danger. Remembering everything from yesterday has you on edge as you move toward the kitchen area, looking for anything out of place. You duck around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room only to find it empty. As you finally let your guard down, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn around getting ready to slam the book into whoever is touching you.

Spencer catches your arms before you hit him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, dropping the book and hugging Spencer.

“I’m sorry! I just heard a noise and you weren’t in bed anymore and I wasn’t sure where you went and I wanted to make sure nobody else was in the room, but I-“

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” Spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cling to him as if your life depends on it. A few minutes pass, before you calm down enough to pull out of the hug. You run a shaky hand through your hair, moving to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

“I put the coffee on so you can grab some when it’s done. I’m going to get dressed so we can figure out where we want to go for inspiration today!” You wink at Spencer before heading back into the bedroom to shower and change. You throw on a pair of jeans and a light sweater after squeezing the extra water out of your hair. You like to let it dry naturally on days like this.

You make your way back into the kitchen only to find Spencer has already changed into a navy and white plaid button down, khakis, and a navy cardigan. He is sitting at the table drinking his coffee when you enter the room. You immediately put the kettle on, reaching into the cabinet to pull out your tea collection.

“No coffee for you?” Spencer asks, gesturing to the half full pot on the counter.

“Oh, nope. Not for me. It’s only palatable if I add way to much sugar and then I get all antsy. I only have coffee if I have a really good reason to stay up.” You chuckle as you add the teabag to the mug you set on the counter. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you sip your tea.

“So, where do you want to go?”

“For what?” Spencer pretends to not know what you’re talking about.

“It’s time to start writing silly!” You grin at his deer in a headlights expression. “Spencer, I told you not to worry. We are just looking for general ideas right now. Anything that could potentially lead to a song. It’s more fun to observe others during this part of the process because the ideas are less specific.”

“I don’t even know where to start!” He actually seems nervous about this.

“Spence, let’s just go to your favorite coffee shop. And don’t tell me that you don’t have one. You’ve already drunk half that pot of coffee.”

“Why my favorite?” He actually looks taken aback at the suggestion.

“Well, for one because I’m not from here, so I don’t know where to go.” You try to backpedal, but you’ve started a list. Something he is all too eager to point out. “And two?” He’s got his brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion adorning his face.

“If it’s your favorite, then you’ve been there before.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well yes, but your point?” The confusion is still present, but his words are laced with exasperation.

“You might just be comfortable enough in your surroundings to suggest a song idea.” You shrug as you say it, trying to make it feel more casual.

“You considered whether or not I would be comfortable?” He seems genuinely surprised now.

“Of course. I want you to help me, so I gotta butter you up.” You try to cover up your blush with a joke.

“Thank you.” HIs words seem surprised, but the two of you move on. Spencer grabs his satchel, and you your jacket, as the two of you exit the hotel to head to the café. You opt for walking since the weather is not too hot. You don’t say much during the walk. After the moment in the kitchen, you feel a bit nervous. A few fans stop you along the way for a picture or an autograph, but mostly you just enjoy each other’s company. Nobody pays much attention to Spencer, rather opting to ignore him to get your attention. Every time someone comes up to you; you make a point to say excuse me or smile at him before addressing the fans though. You just don’t want him to feel left out or like he’s not important.

You finally make it to the café. Spencer opens the door before guiding you in, again placing his hand on your back. You thank him as you make your way up to the counter to order. You order a chai latte for yourself, gesturing for Spencer to order his when the barista asks you if you need anything else. You make sure to add two scones to the order before sliding your card into the machine before Spencer has a chance.

“It’s my fault you’re here with me, so please. My treat.” He shakes his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is your fault?” He gives you a look as you two move to find a table after accepting the scones.

“I know.” You don’t sound sure as you take your seat. He doubles down the staring as you continue. “I promise. I know. It was just a joke.” You sound more sure of yourself that time, earning another smile from Spencer.

The barista brings you your drinks as you settle into the corner booth. You set your phone up on the table, pulling up the recording from yesterday. You pass Spencer your headphones from your purse so he can listen to what you’ve already come up with.

You take this time to really study him. The sun’s rays are streaming in through the blinds on the window, causing slight shadows to drift across his features. You take in the sharp lines of his jaw as he turns to look around the café, listening to the various melodies and lyrics you sang for the team. His brown locks appear golden as the sunlight reflect off the highlights. He’s sporting a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. His hazel eyes drift across the faces of everyone in the room, not settling for long on any one person.

You shift your attention to his hands. He has one draped across the table, lightly tapping along as he listens. His long fingers are mesmerizing. You begin to recognize he is tapping out the melodies as if he were playing the piano. The other hand is wrapped around his coffee cup. You bite your lip as you think about all the things those hands are capable of. Your mind wonders as you stare. You are staring so intently at the way his hand grips the cup, you don’t notice when he removes the headphones.

Spencer clears his throat to catch your attention. “That was incredible. How do you come up with ideas so fast?” He looks like he knows exactly what you were thinking, but is too kind to bring it up. He’s just doing his job, and this isn’t a date.

“Oh, um thanks. I guess the BAU is just full of inspiration. The song writing process is a little different every time, but sometimes I can think of random lyrics and melodies.” You try to smile as you force yourself to focus. “Think back to a time where you felt an emotion really strongly. It can be whatever emotion you want. Then, try to put it into words. I like to use common phrases or metaphors because it can be fun to twist it into something new.” You close your eyes as you think back to how you felt the moment you understood there was a man out there killing people because he is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s a little too soon to write that one out. The idea does give you another way to explain it to Spencer. “It’s kind of like therapy. You can talk out your feelings and share them with people. It’s just a bit more public.” Spencer looks like he’s contemplating his entire life as you sit in this coffee shop.

“Spence,” you say it lightly to draw him out of his own thoughts, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Why don’t we try something else?” He looks grateful as he nods. “Great. Pick out someone in the coffee shop, preferably part of a group.” He looks around before his eyes settle on someone.

“Okay, now tell me what they’re thinking about.” He looks confused, like a lost puppy. “It’s called people watching. Just make up a story about what they might be doing here.”

You and Spencer discuss ideas for the next few hours. He picked out a young man, maybe about 19 years old. He was clearly here with friends trying to catch a break from studying if the backpacks on the floor were any hint. Spencer noticed all of that immediately of course, being that he is a profiler.

His story sounded just like the profile Hotch told you yesterday, although much less horrifying.

“White male, late teens to early twenties. He is likely a STEM major. This is the first time he has let loose in a while, normally choosing to forego the party life for studying. He likely has immense pressure on him from his family to succeed and do well in school.” You nod along, not having any idea where this information is really coming from. He sounds so confident, you can’t help but ask how he knows all that.

“You’re incredible. How did you figure all that out?” You stare in wonder at the man across from you. He doesn’t meet your eye, but responds nonetheless.

“His age is fairly obvious to observe. His bag is fuller than the others, indicating a major that requires more coursework. He keeps checking his watch, almost as if he knows he is wasting time that could be spent working toward a goal. The family pressure can be inferred by the other behavior. It is more likely a young adult is studious due to a strict upbringing with a focus on work ethic and goal-driven activities.”

“Amazing.” You sigh as you look around the room. “My turn.” You point to a couple sitting a few tables away from you. “Those two are exploring the possibility of taking their relationship past that of friendship. They obviously like each other and are too nervous to say anything.” Almost as if to prove you aren’t a profiler, the two lean across the table for a kiss. You laugh it off, knowing it’s just a game for you.

“Or maybe not. Either way, their song would be about new love. Something slow and pretty.” You smile as you turn back to Spencer. “Your turn again!”

The two of you go back and forth a few times. His stories were really just profiles, but after a few tries he leaned into the fun, game-like nature of people watching. Of course, his last story didn’t stray too far from profiling, but it was much more dreamlike in the way he presented it.

“The woman sitting by the window,” he said, subtly pointing to an older woman at a table alone, “she’s waiting to see her grandkids for the first time in years. Of course, she’s excited to see them again, but she’s nervous. What if they don’t like her? What if she can’t patch things up with her… I’m guessing daughter?” You smile brightly at the story. Family moments were usually the most inspiring for generic song ideas.

“Good job, Spence! What would the song be about?” The question clearly caught him off guard. For the past few stories, you asked how he came to those conclusions. It was so fascinating to hear how his mind works. This time though, you thought he could really be on to something. You give him an encouraging nod, as you set your phone up to record again.

“It could be about- about family.” He states it so firmly; you know he wants to say more. “She is sitting there thinking about the memories she has with her own parents and grandparents, so the song could be a reflection on days spent enjoying their company. Maybe future memories they can make together.” He smiles, albeit shyly.

“That is a really good idea! It fits with the vibe of the lyrics I came up with for Rossi.” You see the moment it clicks in his head. I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.

He actually seems pleased with himself now. “We could work on that one tomorrow. We should get up and walk around though, we’ve been sitting here for hours.” You reach for his hand as you scoot out of the booth, pulling him along with you.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker as you head outside. You feel an overwhelming desire to be close to him, but you don’t want to overstep. The early evening crowd is out and about, bumping into the two of you as you walk back to the hotel at a leisurely pace.

“Why don’t we go order some room service and just hang out for the rest of the night? All that people watching was exhausting.” You turn to grin up at him as you continue walking. He hums in response, looking down at you in return. You swear you can feel the mood shifting, but the moment is broken by a tap on your arm. You turn to examine the source of the interruption only to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than 10 years old.

“Hi there!” You squeeze Spencer’s arm before ducking down to talk to the little girl. “Are you parents here?” She nods turning to look at a couple a few feet behind her, slightly out of breath, as if they just chased her down the street.

“Carly! Honey, you can’t run off like that! You could have gotten hurt!” The man scolds her, but is clearly relieved she didn’t get away from them.

“Sorry daddy! I just wanted to say hi to Miss Y/N! She sings my favorite song ever!” You wave at the parents before turning your attention back to the little girl.

“Hi Carly, it’s nice to meet you! You really do need to be careful though. You should always stick with the adults so you don’t get lost.” Your voice is playful, but your expression is serious. The only way to truly convey that message to a child you have no parental claim to. She nods in response.

“Mommy! Take a picture!” You pose with the girl as her mom takes a picture.

“We’re so sorry for interrupting your date! She just saw you and took off down the sidewalk.” You blush at what the woman is implying about you and Spencer, not daring to look at him.

“No worries at all. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Have a good night!” You wave goodbye, linking your arm with Spencer’s as you start to walk. He gives you a curious look, but you just laugh before joking “What? It’s so I don’t get lost.” He chuckles at your childlike behavior, but shifts so you can hold him closer.

The rest of the walk is peaceful. You don’t see any more fans, which is good because you aren’t paying enough attention to anything at the moment. You keep picturing the look on Spencer’s face right before the little girl interrupted you. What was about to happen?

Before you know it, you and Spencer are back in the room. He steps into the kitchen to call Hotch while you call to order dinner. You change into the FBI sweatshirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts before settling on the couch to wait for Spencer. A few minutes later, he joins you on the couch after he hangs up. “The team has ruled out all the performers. It’s not surprising as the unsub wouldn’t be brave enough to perform for a crowd. They are still working through the lists of vendors and crew members.”

“Good. That’s progress. Progress is good.” You nod to yourself, trying to convince yourself everything is normal.

“Talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?” Spencer reaches out to take your hand while you stare at the ground.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard. It’s hard to have such an amazing day and then think about how it only happened because people are being killed. I guess I feel guilty.” You keep going before he can interrupt you. “I know it’s not my fault that this guy is out there doing horrible things, but I still feel bad for enjoying myself while it’s happening.” You don’t have any tears left to cry. You look over to Spencer to find him staring back at you.

“Y/N, you are such a selfless person. There isn’t anything else you can do right now. We haven’t had any more victims, likely because nobody has posted about how excited they are for your shows since we still have 13 days before the next one. We are going to catch this guy.” You form your mouth into a soft smile before nodding at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”

You smile at his attempt to distract you. “You pick. Anything that will take my mind off things, but not require too much thinking.”

Spencer is racking his brain for a movie that fits your description when you hear a knock on the door. “Must be the food, I’ll get it.” When you return with the food, you find Spencer still thinking over movie choices.

“Okay, how about this. What do you like to watch when you really need a pick me up?”

Again he looks surprised that you would take his opinion into account. “Um, usually Doctor Who, but that’s not a movie it’s a-”

“TV show. Right. Is that the one where they fly around in a telephone booth?”

“First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventures. So really, they should just call it Bill and Ted's excellent rip-off, I mean at least then...”

You listen as he rambles about why people always think it’s a telephone booth. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. You don’t realize he asked you a question until he clears his throat with a confused expression.

“Sorry, I was rambling again.” He looks dejected, and you would do anything in the world to make him smile again.

“No, I’m sorry!” You scoot closer to him to convey your point. “I was listening at first I promise. It’s just, you looked so happy I got distracted. Let’s watch Doctor Who.” You turn to face the TV before you say anything else that makes you feel like a complete moron. He sorts through the food as you find the show online, setting it up to play on the TV. There’s random free episodes on demand, so you end up staring with the 11th doctor.

You are completely captivated by the show. Every so often, Spencer would comment on a theory about what one specific prop could mean only to have you cover your ears and warn him about spoilers. During an episode about creepy angel statues, he goes on a tangent about how Amy could have avoided the whole situation. Once he starts mentioning characters you haven’t met, you actually have to reach your hand up to cover his mouth to get him to stop talking. His words putter to a stop, eyes widening in shock as he stares at you.

“Spence, I absolutely love how passionate you are about Doctor Who. But it doesn’t matter how adorable it is when you ramble on about something. If you spoil one more thing before I can actually watch the whole show through, I will not hesitate to smack you.” You stare right in his eyes the entire time, watching as they widen with each word. You had to get a lot closer to him to actually reach his mouth. He had moved forward, animatedly waving his arms around as he talked about various plot points, so you were basically sitting on his lap to avoid being smacked in the face.

You drop your arm from his face slowly, as if any sudden movement would break the spell you were under. You lean forward, connecting your forehead to his. You take a steadying breath as you close your eyes. Your about to close the gap when his phone rings. Again, the moment is lost. You only move enough so that he can reach into his pocket for his phone. As he answers the call, you shift in his lap to cuddle into his chest.

“Morgan, what do you need?” Maybe you’re imaging it, but he almost sounds the slightest bit annoyed. You can just make out what Morgan is saying on the other end of the phone.

“Calm down, Pretty Boy. We might have a lead, Hotch and Emily are tracking it down now. I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning to go over it all with you and Y/N.”

“Okay, thanks for the update.” He sounds so normal now, you think you must have imagined the annoyance earlier. He hangs up the phone, tossing it next to him on the couch. He wraps his arms around you before shifting so you’re both laying down.

“Let’s just relax and watch more Doctor Who. Morgan is stopping by in the morning to talk about the case.” You nod in agreement, turning to face the TV. A few episodes later, you and Spencer are drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of you really wants to interrupt what you’ve got going, instead opting to just fall asleep on the couch.

You hear the faintest knocking noise that pulls you out of your slumber. It takes a few minutes for you to recognize you are on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. He must have pulled a blanket over the two of you last night after you fell asleep. Before you can get up to evaluate the knocking, the door opens and Morgan comes rushing in. The concern on his face is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. You blush, jealous that Spencer is somehow still asleep.

“Hi Morgan. Sorry to alarm you. We must have fallen asleep watching TV last night.” At the sound of your voice, Spencer slowly begins to wake up. He smiles sleepily at you before realizing your attention is elsewhere. He practically throws you off the couch in his effort to sit up when he realizes Morgan is in the room.

“Sorry!” Spencer looks at Morgan, then back to you. “I’m so sorry!” You laugh as you stand up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You settle yourself in the chair, gesturing for Morgan to sit next to Spencer now that he isn’t sprawled across the entire sofa anymore. Turning to Morgan, you ask about the case “What did you want to talk about?”

“We have been focused on going through the people who work for the tour. It makes the most sense for them to travel with you, otherwise it would require a lot more planning.” You can feel the nerves growing in your stomach. “Garcia found a name we wanted to run by you.” He hands you a picture before saying the name. “Ryan Moore. He works-“

“On the instrumentals. I know. He usually runs the sound booth during the shows. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve talked a few times.” You think back over your past conversations. “It couldn’t be him.” You are 100% sure he is not the unsub, and the agents don’t fail to notice the conviction in your voice.

“What makes you so sure?” Spencer is flipping through the case file Morgan brought with him. He doesn’t even look up when he asks the question, too focused on memorizing every detail about this man’s life.

“Well, Hotch told me the unsub wouldn’t be able to talk to me right?” You look to Morgan for confirmation.

“Yes. He wouldn’t approach you or seem confident when talking with you if you approached him.” Morgan confirms what you’re thinking.

“Great. So it can’t be him.” You smile to yourself for actually contributing to the case. “Last week, right after the Columbus show, he asked me out. The unsub wouldn’t be brave enough, right?” The utter joy in your voice startles Spencer enough that he finally looks up from the file.

“Alright then. He’s likely not the unsub, but we’ll finish the investigation into him just in case.” Morgan settles back into the chair he’s sitting in, making no move to leave even though the conversation is clearly over. There is an obvious smirk on his face as he looks at Spencer.

“Well, I’m going to make some breakfast, feel free to watch TV or something.” You smile awkwardly at the two men, unsure of why there is suddenly a strange tension in the air. As you move into the kitchen, you connect your phone to your Bluetooth speaker. Listening to music while you cook has always been calming for you. You honestly prefer baking, but eggs and sausage with toast sounds perfect right now. You pull out the ingredients, humming softly as you dance around the kitchen. You can just barely hear that Morgan and Spencer are talking in the other room, but not enough to make out what they are saying. It just sounds a bit more intense the conversation you just had.

You choose to ignore it and give them their privacy instead focusing on cooking. You end up making scrambled eggs the way your mom taught you, by mixing in some chive and onion cream cheese. You pop some English muffins in the oven under the broiler while you place the eggs and sausages in dishes. After turning the music down, you move all the food to the table. You’re about to invite Spencer and Morgan to have some food when you hear their conversation.

“I’m telling you man. She likes you. You should go for it.” Morgan is clearly trying to encourage Spencer, but he won’t hear it.

“Morgan, it’s not like that. It’s probably just transference because I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Plus, you saw the smile on her face when she talked about Ryan asking her out. She was beaming.” He sighs, almost wistfully as you consider what he’s saying. Surely you are capable of separating your feelings for him from the situation. Would you like him if you had just run into him on the street? Plus, what does Ryan have to do with this?

You move back to the stove to remove the English muffins before they burn, putting them on a plate as well. Ultimately, you decide to try to straighten out your feelings for Spencer before making a move. You want to be sure. If there is even a shred of doubt in your mind, Spencer will surely be able to see it on your face. Stupid profilers.

Their conversation died down while you were dealing with the muffins, so you walk back to the other side of the room. You mumble out “I made food, you’re both welcome to have some” before returning to the table. You have a lot to think about and the last thing you want to do is lead Spencer on if you aren’t sure. He deserves better than that.

The conversation over breakfast is nice. Nothing too heavy or serious. The three of you are just talking about your lives. Morgan asks you what it’s like to be famous. You ask him and Spencer what it’s like to be in the FBI. You realize just how different your career paths are. The only thing you can relate to is travelling. Neither Spencer nor Morgan have family in the area, but they mention how hard it is for Hotch and JJ.

“That I can understand. The travelling, I mean. Of course, I travel to perform, not to track down killers.” The room is quiet for a few minutes as you think about what to say. Morgan and Reid being profilers know you haven’t finished your thought, so they give you the time to think it over.

“Thank you.” You say it softly, but firmly at the same time. This is the first time you’ve seen either of them look surprised.

“Wh- for what?” It’s Morgan who speaks up. Spencer has a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same look he got when you asked his opinion for coffee shops and movies.

“For everything. For protecting me. For catching bad guys. For giving up so much to do this job. You two, and the rest of your team, you all sacrifice so much to keep people safe. I mean, I’m sure the people you save and the families you give closure to are grateful, and you deserve that. But, you also deserve to have everyone be thankful for what you do. You get into the minds of these people. It must be exhausting to have to think like that all the time. I’m barely dealing with it now and it’s only be on my mind for 2 days! I just can’t even fathom the number of people you have saved, people that you’ve never even met, by doing this. So, thank you. For being strong enough to do it. For being you.”

You spoke every word with every ounce of sincerity you could muster up. You were looking between them as you said it. The shock on Morgan’s face slowly morphed into a small smile. Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but somehow looked more sincere when you were done.

Neither one of them knew what to say. Morgan rose from his chair to pull you into a hug. Patting you on the back, he uttered a soft thank you before saying he should get back to the office to help the rest of the team. You locked the door behind him, turning to see Spencer staring at you from the table.

“Spence? Are you okay?” You were nervous that your impromptu speech made him uncomfortable. He rose from the table, slowly making his way across the room to you.

“I’m, I, I just… that was… thank you. You amaze me.” He barely says the words, practically breathing them into existence. You reach for his hand, squeezing it.

“I meant every single word. Promise.” There is nothing more you want to do than kiss him right now, but all you can hear in your head is Spencer talking about transference. You hug him quickly before pulling back again. Without some distance between the two of you, you won’t be able to control yourself. “Do you want to go to another café today? Or somewhere with a piano so I can finally see you play?”

“We can do what you want today. You let me pick the café and the show yesterday, so it’s only fair.” You grin, knowing exactly where you want to take him.

The two of you get ready in near silence after that. Both of you want to calm down a bit before spending another day together. After you’ve both showered and changed, you drag Spencer down to the SUV. The weather outside is perfect for where you want to go, but the park is just far enough away that you want to drive. You pull up directions on your phone, hiding the address from him. Spencer protests the entire time. He keeps mumbling about how he would know how to get there if you just told him where you were going. Then something about how mobile phones are a distraction, so it would be safer for him to drive anyway.

You just let him ramble on about the many DC streets. Your grip on the wheel tightens when he starts listing off statistics about car accidents.

“More than 38,000 people die every year in crashes on U.S. roadways. The U.S. traffic fatality rate is actually 12.4 deaths per 100,000 inhabitants. An additional 4.4 million are injured seriously enough to require medical attention. Road crashes are the leading cause of death in the U.S. for people aged 1-54.” With every passing word, your knuckles get whiter, your heartbeat gets faster, and your breaths get shorter. Spencer is too caught up in reciting the statistics to realize anything is wrong until he turns to look at you, his next sentence dying on his tongue. “Seatbelts reduce the risk of dying by…” His brow furrows as he takes in your appearance.

“By what Spence? Don’t leave me hanging?” You try to joke with him to calm yourself down, but he obviously sees right through it.

“45%.” He continues before you can even comprehend the number. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m totally fine. 100% A-Okay.” You try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Having arrived at your destination, you pull into a parking spot.

“Y/N, talk to me. What is it?” You take a steadying breath as you turn to face him. Honestly, you are embarrassed more than anything else. You were the one who decided you had to drive.

“Spence, really it’s not a big deal. I just get nervous driving sometimes. I don’t have to do it a lot, and I’ve never felt like I was particularly good at it. It doesn’t matter though, we’re here.” You move to get out of the car, but Spencer reaches across the car to stop you. His face is only inches from yours as the realization dawns on him.

“And I was rambling on about how dangerous driving is.” He says it more to himself than to you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stop me? I really need to learn how to shut up. I just get so caught up in the statistics-“ “Spencer. I love when you ramble. I’ve already told you how calming it is… normally. I’m fine, I promise. You just have to drive us back to the hotel later. Deal?”

“Deal.” You’re both smiling as you get out of the car to walk around the park you brought him to. He doesn’t ask why you picked this place and you don’t offer up a reason. He’ll figure it out soon enough. You talk about random things from childhood as you lazily stroll through the trees. There’s something so calming about wandering through so many trees when you know you’re in the middle of a bustling city.

Before long, the two of you have crossed the park. A few feet away stands an upright piano in front of a park bench. You glance at Spencer as he looks at the piano, realization gracing his features as he discovers why you chose this particular park. You beckon for him to sit down next to you, asking him to play you a song.

He blushes as you whisper pretty please in his ear. The cherry on top does him in. Soon enough, you are hearing the beginning notes of Bach’s Prelude in C. You just sit and listen, watching his fingers gracefully move above the keys. He’s not the most passionate of piano players. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he moves his hands efficiently across the instrument, as if he really is thinking about the math behind it all. Still, you lose yourself in the music, swaying lightly. You find yourself leaning on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you think about everything you’ve been feeling.

You studied music for a few years when you were young. That’s how you started writing, with lessons to learn to play both the guitar and the piano. You took to the guitar more than the piano, but you remember learning about the emotion behind every classical piece you were taught to play. You can’t help but think back to those lessons as you listen to Spencer. This song is always reaching forward, yearning for the next note. It plays into the idea that life is simple and pure. Even good at times. But there is something lurking just below the surface. It’s weirdly fitting of your current situation, but you choose to just be glad he chose the major over the minor.

You feel the breeze in your hair as Spencer finishes the song. For a few moments, the two of you sit listening to the leaves rustling in the wind. Eventually, you look around the park once it is quiet again. It’s mostly empty given that it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday, so there aren’t many people around to witness this moment. You slip your phone on the piano to record before you take over, playing that all too familiar melody that reminds you of Spencer. Neither of you say anything as you let the music and your emotions guide you through the song. You can tell it’s not perfect, but it just feels right.

After that, you and Spencer brainstorm lyrics for Rossi’s song for another few hours. The park begins to fill up as school lets out and the workday ends. A few fans recognize you, asking for pictures. After a particularly strong gust of wind, Spencer drapes his cardigan over you as you walk back toward the car, both of you blissfully unaware of the figure watching you from behind the trees.

The next few days pass in much the same fashion. Spencer takes calls about the case, trying to narrow down the massive list of crew members on your tour. You and he work on lyrics for Rossi’s song, as well as JJ’s. She’s just so pretty, the words flow right out of you. You can tell Spencer agrees. You believe him as he swears up and down that the two of them are just friends, but you can’t help teasing him just a bit.

“Honestly, it would be weirder if you didn’t think she was pretty. The woman looks as if she were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. A living embodiment of Aphrodite.” He nods in agreement, a faint blush on his cheeks.

No matter how much you try, you just cannot come up with anymore good lyrics for Spencer’s song. It could be that he is sitting right next to you all the time and knows the song is for him that’s causing the writer’s block, but it’s still frustrating.

One night, he’s working through the case file for the third time in a row when you interrupt his thoughts with a seemingly random question.

“Spence, can you tell me a story?” He looks up at you, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I just need inspiration for the lyrics. Everything I come up with sucks.” You pout until he finally gives in. “Yay! It can be anything, even a memory. Just make it overwhelmingly happy.”

Spencer stops looking through the file as he thinks back on his life experiences for an overwhelmingly happy memory. The faces of his team members instantly flood his mind as he sorts through the many good times they’ve had. He keeps circling back to one event, ultimately deciding it is happy enough to fit your standards.

“This is actually the story of JJ’s wedding.” You lean forward, a wedding story could be just what the doctor ordered. “Will wanted to marry her for a while, but she was hesitant. She said everything was perfect as it was, she didn’t feel the need to change anything.” You were honestly a little confused as to where the happiness was at this point, but you let him continue anyway. You could listen to this man talk for days on end without complaint.

“We ended up working a case with Will. It was a bank robbery turned hostage situation. It was a rough case for all of us; bombs, secret partners, kids at risk. I won’t bore you with the details,” he chuckles at your thankful expression, “but it all worked out in the end. Will, he could’ve died. When JJ went to see him in the hospital, she told him to ask her again. She wanted to get married then and there in the hospital chapel. Will wanted to wait until he was actually out of the hospital though, and not wearing a hospital gown.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of loving someone so much, you were instantly ready to marry them.

“Rossi, he overheard everything. So, he started planning. He called JJ’s mom, told her to fly in and to bring her wedding dress. We threw her a surprise wedding the next day. It was such a beautiful moment, to have such a joyous event after everything that we had been through. JJ looked wonderstruck as her mom walked her down the aisle. The lights were sparkling. It was enchanting.” He spoke with such awe about the whole event. He told you stories about doing magic for Henry and Jack, who you came to know as Hotch’s son. It was so easy for you to picture the fairy lights and purple flowers. The team seemed like such a close-knit family, it only made sense that they would share this memory.

The chorus of the song hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t even warn Spencer as you jumped from the couch and ran to the piano. He followed behind you, curious to see what would happen. He watched with wonder as you placed your phone to record on top of the piano and started playing the family melody you first hummed while thinking about him.

“This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.” The verses didn’t pour out of you in quite the same way, but the general storyline of the song came to you in the next few minutes. You rushed to get it all out, speaking directly into the phone.

“The first verse can be about feeling out of place in a room, faking laughter, forcing smiles. Then it all changes when she sees him. It’s as if they have a conversation with only their eyes as they float across the room to each other. Then the chorus. The second verse can be about her wondering if he felt it to. 2 am who do you love? Chorus again. Then the bridge can be about hoping that the one night wasn’t it for them. That she’ll see him again and hoping he isn’t already in love or with someone.” You’re so pleased with the song idea, you don’t notice the shifting expressions on Spencer’s face. After your explanation, you turn to him, the biggest smile he’s seen yet on your face.

“What do you think?” He’s so shocked he doesn’t know how to respond. After a moment of silence, your face begins to fall. You can’t stop your brain from thinking the worst.

He must hate it. Oh god, he’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy. Why do I have to be so stupid? Sure, go ahead. Write a love song about the man who’s sitting next to you. That won’t be weird at all. Oh god, oh god…

Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful. It will make a wonderful song.” He’s whispering in your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against you is too much. Everything you’ve been pushing back for the past few days comes roaring to the surface. You can’t stop yourself.

You pull back slowly, only to pull his face to yours so rapidly you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. In less than an instant, his lips are moving gracefully against yours. His hands slide down your body to your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your arms move up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair. The hunger and passion is slowly taken over by the need for oxygen, the two of you separating just enough to pull air into your lungs.

He kisses your forehead, and you kiss his nose. A few minutes later, and you’re still standing there with your heads pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Every so often, one of you places a light kiss on the others mouth, just to make sure this is real.

“I know what you’re thinking.” You are still out of breath from kissing him, but you can just tell his mind is moving a mile a minute.

“I’m not sure you do.” He sounds nervous.

“I think I might surprise you.” You can’t help but tease him a little before continuing. “You think its all transference. That I only think I like you because you’re here to protect me. Some sort of white knight bullshit.” You can’t stop yourself from sounding mildly annoyed about it. Although, the look of shock on his face helps. “I heard what you said to Morgan.” He sighs before moving to pull back.

“No, Spence. Listen to me. I heard what you said to Morgan.” You wait for him to follow your train of thought back a few days.

“But that was four days ago?” He looks more confused than ever.

“I know. I wanted to make sure that what I feel is real. I didn’t want to lead you on if I might not actually want this. But I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Spencer, you are a light in my life and not just because you’re here to make sure I don’t get murdered. Although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like I can tell you anything and you won’t judge me for it. That I can truly be myself without worry of letting you down.”

“Y/N you could never let me down. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything. I don’t want you to regret me.” He looks crestfallen.

“Spencer Reid.” You move your hands to his cheeks to gently push his head up to make eye contact. “I could never regret a single moment spent with you. I have loved every single one. I loved watching you listen to the songs about your friends. I loved listening to you talk about things you love, like Doctor Who and statistics. I loved sitting next to while you played piano. I loved talking to you about anything and everything. Spencer, I love how I feel when I’m with you and I know for a fact I would feel the same way if I met you walking down the street.”

“Y/N” the way he says your name is music to your ears. “I love how I feel when I’m with you too. I loved listening to you sing about my friends, capturing the essence of who they are. I loved watching you experience the things I have grown so accustomed to doing. I loved the feeling of you leaning on my shoulder while I played Bach. I loved hearing you come up with an entire storyline for one song in a matter of minutes just based on one story. I have loved every single second I have been with you since I first saw you 7 days, 2 hours, and 32 minutes ago. Even if I didn’t say a word to you until after you woke up in the hospital.”

The two of you laugh as you pull him to the couch to cuddle. You put on more Doctor Who, sitting with your legs across his lap and playing with his hands. It’s nice to just be close to him without having to worry. You find yourself getting wrapped up in the show. Spencer is quieter this time. You think he might have something on his mind, but you decide to wait for him to share. Between the third and fourth episode, he speaks up.

“Y/N, are you and Ryan… are you together?” You look up to see a nervous expression once again on his face.

“Ryan who?” You are genuinely confused as to who he could even be talking about.

“Ryan Moore, the sound booth guy.” You look even more confused than before.

“Not even a little bit. I politely declined his offer to take me out. Is that what’s been bugging you for the last three episodes?” You smile at his pout.

“Maybe. You just seemed so happy when you mentioned that he asked you out. You were practically glowing with how big your smile was.”

“Spence, I was happy because I could actually help you with the case. I only have eyes for one guy.” You shift to straddle his lap.

“Yeah, who’s that?” He pulls you even closer.

“Matt Smith” You say it with the best deadpan expression you can manage in the circumstances.

“Wow, your standards must be pretty low to settle for the 11th doctor. He’s not even in the top three best doctors!” He plays along with your joke, although he doesn’t have to act incredulous sat you preference for the 11th doctor.

“Well, my number one doctor isn’t really on TV.” You bite your lip, leaning in until you connect your mouth to his.

Right as you’re both about to take it one step further, your phone rings. “Fuck.” The word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth as you pull back from Spencer trying to catch your breath.

“Hello?” you don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone. “Hello? Anyone there? Hello?” Suddenly the line goes dead. You turn to Spencer. “Well, that was weird.” Spencer frantically moves you off his lap as he stands up, taking out his phone. Without telling you anything, he is frantically dialing a number, mumbling under his breath.

“Garcia! I need to you to figure out who just called Y/N’s phone.” He waits a minute, presumably listening to her reply. “Yes, it just rang and when she answered nobody said anything. Thank you.” He hangs up, swiftly moving back to the couch to pull you into a hug.

“What just happened?” You can feel your heartrate speeding up.

“It might be nothing, but that might have been the unsub. Garcia is tracking down the number that made the call right now. If it’s possible to figure out, she’ll have it done by morning.” He rubs calming circles on your hip with his thumb. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Try to get some rest?” You nod, rising from the couch.

“Spence, will you lay with me?” Your voice is small and scared as you ask the question. He simply nods, both of you changing into pajamas before meeting in the bedroom to lay down. You snuggle up close to him, trying to breathe in the same pattern as him until you fall asleep.

When you wake up, you can hear Spencer in the living room, talking on his phone. You want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but not if you can’t cuddle with Spencer while you do it. Throwing the covers off of you, you get up so you can actually see Spencer. He’s got his back to you when you open the door, so you sneak up behind him. He jumps a little with a surprised gasp when you wrap your arms around his middle.

“What? Oh, uh… I’m fi-fine. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised.” He spins around to hug you, giving you a slight glare. “By, um, a beetle. Yeah, there was a beetle.” The lie is so obvious you can’t help but laugh as you bury your head into his chest.

A few minutes later, he finally hangs up. “What did they find out about the phone call?” You mumble the question into the fabric of his cardigan.

“Less than we were hoping for. It was a prepaid cell, so Garcia can’t trace it back to the owner.” You squeeze him tighter, glad to have him with you through all of this. After a few minutes of standing with him, you reluctantly pull back.

“Well, we should get to work. These songs are not going to write themselves!”

You and Spencer retreat to different parts of the suite to get ready for the day. As much as you would love to jump his bones, it doesn’t feel right to take up his time with that when he could be working. At least if you were working on songs together it was part of the cover.

You ultimately decide to just sit in the park across from the hotel today. Normally, you wouldn’t even leave your room at this point in the writing process. You just don’t completely trust yourself to be alone with him at the moment. At least in public you can control yourself a little bit. Yet, the many people walking around the park do nothing to stop you from grabbing Spencer’s hand and playing with his fingers while thinking particularly hard about a certain lyric.

A bright flash of light draws you out of your reverie. You already know how the picture is going to look. You are laying across a blanket, knees in the air. Spencer is sitting beside you, reading messages from the team on his phone. His other hand is still between yours as you run your fingers over his knuckles. You are absolutely sure there is look of complete adoration on your face. You can’t bring yourself to care that the paparazzi took the picture. You have nothing to hide.

After the shock of the bright light fades, you notice a familiar face behind the few photographers in front of you. The shock of seeing someone for a second time floods your brain while you try to remember the profile Hotch told you that very first night. Without thinking too hard, you fling yourself into a sitting position. You gather everything you brought with you to the park, dragging Spencer along with you. He clearly doesn’t understand the shift in your behavior, but he’d gladly follow you anywhere.

It’s not until you reach your room that you look at him. He can see the fear in your eyes before you even open your mouth. “Baby, what is it? What happened?” He begins recalling everything from the moment the first flash went off, trying to figure out what made you so scared.

“I saw him.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart beating in your chest. “I saw the unsub. I mean, I think I did. He held the door open for us this morning when we left the hotel, and then he was in the park when the paparazzi were taking pictures. Hotch… he said to tell you if I saw anyone more than once in a day.” The words escape your lips in a hurry, trying to keep up with your flying thoughts.

“Okay, breathe. I’m right here. I’m going to call the team. Did you recognize him from anywhere else?” You try to picture the face in your mind, and suddenly you are seeing him everywhere. In the coffee shop that very first day. Behind the trees in the park with the piano. If you and Spencer were there, so was he. Just, normally you only caught a glimpse of him for a second. Definitely not twice in one day.

You rush to tell Spencer what you’re remembering. At this point, you don’t even know if it’s true. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. Just filling in this man’s face on other people’s bodies to fit the story that he is the one behind it all. Nonetheless, you give him the description of who you saw. White, probably 35ish, brown hair. You didn’t see his eyes, but they looked evil. The expression on his face just screamed serial killer. Maybe that’s in your head too. Who knows?

“I know I’ve seen that face before, I just can’t remember where. God, I’m useless. This man is hurting people and I can’t even remember where I’ve seen him before. Think. Think. THINK.” You’ve started pacing the room, trying to figure out who it could be. Spencer doesn’t say anything else to you until he’s finished the phone call. Even then, he’s more so humming and shushing you than really talking. He pulls you into a hug, trying to calm you down yet again.

“Y/N. You are anything but useless. You noticed he was there. That’s a step in the right direction. We are going to find him, and he is going to go to jail for a very long time.” Somewhere, deep inside, you knew Spencer couldn’t guarantee that, but you also knew it was better for you to listen to him than to force yourself down a rabbit hole you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

A few calming breaths later, and your asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

It’s still dark when you open your eyes. You can hear someone moving around, but it’s too dark to see. Spencer isn’t with you on the couch, so it could be him, but something feels wrong. Why would Spencer be up in the middle of the night wandering around in the dark?

“Spencer?” Everything goes still at the sound of your voice. Yeah, that was not the best move you could’ve made… Before you can say anything else, you are knocked out cold. The sound of a lamp smashing over your head is that last thing you hear.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade @dilaudidwinchester , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x you

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nerdstreak · 3 years ago

Text

Love as a Construct

Part 1: No Ring, No Problem

762 words

wanted to write wedding/proposal fluff so here yall go!

Read on AO3!

0---0

After a few months of living and working on Theo’s farm, Hannah and Wheatley wanted to live on their own for a change, as a couple. They of course still visited and helped if needed, but they also got jobs to support themselves in their new apartment. He worked in a bookstore, and she sold her works of art while also working part time at a bakery that Caroline had recently opened up.

After a while of living together, they grew quite comfortable with one another. They learned a lot about themselves and each other. Likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. Despite some gaps in their memory, it didn’t matter all that much anymore, because now they were making plenty more memories together.

They were ready to take another step, especially Wheatley. A few problems with that, though. While they made money to get by, he didn’t know how to go about buying something as expensive as an engagement ring. Plus, isn’t an engaged couple also supposed to buy an entirely new set once married? It would be so much easier to just pick one pair out together, and wear those. It was like another activity to do as a couple. He wondered if she would like doing that as well.

But that was another problem. He was so, so nervous even just asking hypotheticals about marriage. Neither one of them were the type to go on about it, at most they agreed it was something “nice” in a lot of TV shows and movies, a satisfying bookend to a story. But this was their real lives, and things would continue past a happily ever after. Did she truly want that with him? What did she expect of him?

As they sat together and watched TV late one evening, of course a commercial for a ring jeweler came on, and it made Wheatley sigh.

Hannah turned to him. “What’s up?”

He stiffened a bit in nervousness. “Oh, nothin’, just… Y’know, why the hell are diamond rings so bloody expensive?? It’s a shiny rock! Why give it so much arbitrary value, and why do you ‘have’ to propose with one of those? You get a new pair when you’re married! I mean, what does the price of one piece of jewelry have to do with how much I love you and wanna be with you…!” He stopped himself, breath hitching in his throat as he realized he unintentionally directed that sentence towards her.

She listened, sort of agreeing with his sentiment. It was kind of ridiculous how expensive rings could get. Hell, even her college class ring had cost a pretty penny, wherever it was now. However, when he started to proclaim his love, he had her full attention as she looked at him in stunned silence.

Crap, he really just said that, didn’t he. And now she was looking at him. Crap crap crap. “Uh, y-y'know, I-I mean, money’s no object! Totally fine if you’d want a nice--” Before he could try and backpedal further, she interrupted him.

“Wheatley, you don’t have to propose to me with a ring…” she stated with a smile.

His eyes lit up. “Wait… you would really want to…?”

She nodded. “I would.”

He grinned widely, eagerly moving off of the couch. “Alright, hang on, don’t move! I at least wanna have a proper speech for this…!” He got down on one knee in front of the couch and took her hand.

Seeing how badly he’d been wanting to do this almost made her cry there and then already, but she sat up and eagerly listened.

With a deep breath, Wheatley began. “Hannah… I do really, really want to be with you. Luck brought me to you, and I cherish every single minute of every day I spend with you. Ever since I met you, you’ve made me the happiest man on earth, in the galaxy, even. And because of that… I wanna be your lifelong partner. So… will you marry me? Ring or no ring?”

Hannah’s tears finally spilled over, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes…”

He sighed with relief, getting up to kiss her. “I love you so much… Thank you, luv…” he muttered between kisses, his thumbs wiping away the tears on her cheeks. After a few moments, they pulled apart a bit. “So, I had been thinkin’, instead of the flashy surprise engagement ring, we both go pick out some rings together, so we know we like ‘em, and then wear those for the engagement and the wedding. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#selfship writing #selfship wedding #hannah babbles #hannley #i'm your moon #dynamic electronic lifeform #clown on me for the title all you want i love it

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kookiebunnii · 4 years ago

Text

lucky in love || min yoongi

→ summary: you didn’t expect to start your day with an arrow to the heart, quite literally, but neither did you expect to meet cupid himself. quickly realizing that you aren’t dramatically falling in love from the effects of cupid’s arrow, the two of you unexpectedly team up to solve this curious dilemma. however, at the end of it all, what if cupid is the one falling in love?

→ pairing: cupid!yoongi x reader

→ genre: roman/greek mythology au, fluff

→ word count: 6.6k

→ warnings: mature language

→ a/n: this is sort of a half-gift to myself and @cinnaminsvga, the author who actually inspired me to write again. i just hit 200 followers, and i guess i also wanted zee to know that her works definitely motivate and inspire others!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Sitting in your armchair, embroidering little white carnations into the hem of the wedding dress in your hands, you truly thought that you couldn’t be any more content. This particular order had recently prompted the idea of “love” into your mind whenever you worked, as your customer had practically beamed with excitement when talking about her fiancée. Although your family and friends seemingly had your relationship status on the forefront of their minds, it wasn’t something you chose to fret about. You’d had your fair share of boyfriends, men you enjoyed spending time with and even one you thought about a “happily ever after” with. But of course, your career and independent personality typically got in the way.

It had led to heartaches and internal turmoil early on in your life, but now you were a freelancer, a fashion designer making clothes from your apartment. It wasn’t the most luxurious life imaginable, but it was the life you wanted. You were able to do what you loved while helping others. Romantic love just wasn’t on this week’s to-do list...orders were.

You set the piece down and slowly rotate your wrists to chase the stiffness away from your joints. Taking a sip of your chamomile tea, you watch as the horizon outside your window lights the buildings aglow with an orange and pink hue. The colors are beautiful, and you’re briefly inspired. Heading to your workbench in the room next to you, you grab your pocket notebook and scribble down the colors you see outside. You always wrote little notes in this particular journal, hoping to use it for your own creative works someday if not for a future customer’s order. Examining the words “pink, orange, yellow blending” in your casual scrawl, you flip to previous pages to reread your past bouts of inspiration.

You sigh, knowing that this wedding dress was your last big order for the month. Perhaps you now have enough time and funds saved up to work on something for yourself next week.

Your discarded cell phone on the couch begins beeping incessantly, so you set your notebook back down and skirt over to check what it’s for. You make a small sound of happiness, remembering that you had ordered Thai food for dinner tonight. Taking off your work apron and hanging it on a hook in your office, you find the warmest coat you own before rushing out the door.

Weather these days is like a finicky child who can’t make up his mind. In the daylight you’d have to pull on a t-shirt and a long skirt to fully appreciate the rare breezes that danced through the open windows. However, after sunset, temperatures could drop quite steeply. You’re reminded of this again when you’re forced to tuck your hands into your pockets and tell yourself to hurry.

The street is lit with soft lamplight and despite the cold and hunger resting in your belly, the artist in you can’t help but appreciate how beautiful this sight is as well. Round circles of yellow going from intense to faded against a midnight blue backdrop fill your thoughts. It’s so distracting that you almost walk past your destination without realizing.

Quickly backpedaling a few steps, you head into Thai Us Together—you must give the owners credit for their pun-tastic name—and greet the familiar worker at the front desk. She engages you in some polite conversation before handing you your usual order and bidding you goodbye.

It’s only when you are a few steps away from the entrance to your apartment complex that you are hit in the chest by an arrow.

You realize this not because you feel any sort of pain from the attack, but because a translucent arrow radiating a pinkish glow is now visibly protruding from your front. Firmly planted above your ribs, you’re momentarily at a loss. Perhaps any normal person would be screaming in terror, but you just stare, wide-eyed, wondering if you were dreaming. Things never got this crazy in your dreams though.

“Why isn’t it working?”

You blink and suddenly there’s a dark-haired, pale-faced man in front of you. He doesn’t look much older than you, as he stands in front of you with his arms crossed. Frowning in discontent, he stares in the direction of your chest unabashedly and you feel that you have the right to be more than a little offended.

“Um, hello? My eyes are up here.”

When his eyes finally find yours, they’re filled with shock with a little bit of fear mixed in. You almost wonder if you’d grown a second head or something, with the way he was staring at you.

“You can see me?” he asks, pointing at himself as you roll your eyes in response.

“Who else is staring at my chest around here? Yes, you.”

The boy starts laughing, his gums showing cutely in response to your curt reply. You can feel your cheeks warming as you wonder whether your statement deserved to be received with this much amusement.

“You’re a funny one,” he finally notes, before a worried expression takes over his features again, “But you’re human aren’t you? You shouldn’t be able to see me.”

You adjust your takeout in your hands before resting a hand on your hip, “Well, I see you very clearly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have pad thai to enjoy and an arrow to the heart to deal with.”

He grabs your arm, and the touch is so palpable that you know now that you’re definitely not dreaming. You turn to meet the stranger’s gaze again, and the curiosity filling his brown eyes is undeniable.

“You see the arrow too?” he whispers in awe, gesturing to the faint but very noticeable projectile still lodged in your front.

Sighing, you say, “Okay at least I’m not hallucinating this then. Look, I need to try and get this thing out and get to my dinner. If you don’t have any suggestions on how to remove arrows that don’t even feel like they’re actually there, then I suggest you head home.”

He follows you through the gate, matching your hurried steps with ease until you finally snap and turn on him. He almost bumps into you as a result of your sudden halt but quickly readjusts himself and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

After a short glaring contest, he gives you a small smile with a glint in his eye, “I know exactly how to get that out. In fact, I was the one who shot it.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Maybe all these years of living alone has finally dulled your warning senses to the point where you were fine letting dangerous strangers into your home. You’d always been too trusting of a person, but you felt too tired and confused to put up much of a fight tonight anyways. You just wanted to enjoy one of your favorite noodle dishes and get rid of whatever black magic was involved in this painless arrow buried inside you. If it meant inviting a random puzzling but handsome individual into your abode, then so be it.

As you dig into your meal, you watch as your guest sips on his glass of water. He had denied your offer of food, but you could at least say you were a polite host. With your stomach now appeased, you take your own gulp of water before launching into an interrogation.

“Who are you?” you ask.

He tilts his head, observing you for what feels like the seventh time that day. Finally, he leans back in his seat in thought. The silence permeates your residence for a good minute before he finally utters, “I’m Cupid, God of desire, attraction, and affection.”

You stop mid-chew to openly gawk at the black-haired male in front of you. This boy, dressed in a large hoodie and ripped jeans, is supposed to be the fat baby featured on Valentine’s Day cards? Maybe you brought a crackhead into your home.

“I know what you’re thinking. You mortals have ruined my image recently and as a result I am no longer receiving the respect I deserve,” he purses his lips before setting his water glass aside and openly observing you again, “But I am in fact Cupid.

“Okay let’s say you are Cupid or whatever and you shot me. Doesn’t this mean I’m supposed to fall in love now or something? I don’t feel anything other than a desire to finish the rest of this delicious pad thai.”

He doesn’t even smile at your attempt at lighthearted humor, instead wrinkling his brow further at your words.

“That is rather curious.”

Fiddling with a stray bean sprout on your plate, you add, “Well, could we start with removing this first?”

He finally gives you an amused grin when you gesture to the faint outline of an arrow above your ribs, which appears to be growing increasingly hard to see as time passes. Maybe you are finally going off the deep end.

“It’ll disappear soon,” and as soon as the words leave his lips, the arrow has faded entirely. He turns slightly, and a quiver suddenly appears on his back. You count 11 arrows before another slowly fills the remaining empty spot to complete the final dozen.

Your jaw is practically on the floor at this display.

“I need to figure out why this is happening,” he muses, resting his chin on his hand and training his unwavering gaze on you once again.

Jeez, you were starting to feel like an exhibit at the zoo.

“Look, as much as I appreciate meeting a god, I have work to do and a deadline to meet. I’m sure this is very fascinating, but frankly I’d rather not fall in love anyways so I’m quite glad this didn’t work,” you stand up to set your cleared dish in the sink before heading for the door to escort him out.

“Why not?” he asks, as if he couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever not want to be in love.

You turn after undoing the lock at your door to find that he still hasn’t budged from his chair. Clearly not on the same page as you are, you saunter over to him and do your best to give him a menacing look, “I’m happy the way I am. Now are you leaving?”

You definitely weren’t usually this rude, but the amalgamation of your anxiety to get back to work and the confusion of trying to understand what was happening to you made for a deadly combo. Today’s events were definitely giving you a short fuse. If this offends him, Cupid sure doesn’t show it, because he just gives you a small tilt of his lips before heading to your kitchen to wash his empty cup.

You watch, mystified, as he sets his cup on the drying rack before washing the plate you had left in the sink earlier. At this point you rush forward, embarrassed, but he simply shakes the excess water off the plate before leaving it next to his discarded cup. You thought Cupid was supposed to be mischievous, and maybe this guy was, but he was definitely going out of his way to be nice to you.

“Thanks” you mumble halfheartedly, suddenly feeling a bit regretful that you were trying your damnedest to shoo him out earlier.

He chuckles, drying his hands on your teacloth hanging nearby before asking, “Can I ask you some questions?”

Deciding that no ill-natured person would go through the trouble of washing your dishes before murdering you, you lead him to your living room where you were previously working on embroidery. The wedding dress is still resting on the arm of the chair you previously occupied, so you briefly excuse yourself to move the large piece back to your workspace.

When you come back, he seems to be running his tongue against the inside of his cheek in thought. It distracts you for a bit until he finally asks, “Are you getting married?”

Sputtering with a bright fuchsia across your cheekbones, you quickly reply, “No! No, it’s an order for a customer. I’m a designer.”

He sighs in relief, “Thank Zeus, I honestly thought I had lost all of my powers including my sense. Maybe it’s just my arrows that are faulty.”

When he notices how you’re looking at him quizzically, he kindly explains, “Usually, getting hit with my arrow means you fall in love with the person I’ve assigned. For some reason that clearly hasn’t happened for you. Besides, you’re definitely not supposed to see me or my arrows unless I will it to happen.”

You frown, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you think. If this dark-haired boy is to be trusted, was there actually something wrong with you? Additionally, who had he chosen for you? Maybe if it was meant to be and all that jazz, you could just have Cupid introduce the two of you and he can be on his way. That’d be much simpler than trying to wrap your head around the idea that Roman Gods existed.

“Who’s the person?”

He smirks, appearing to be amused at your shy remark, “Mortals are simple creatures. It matters more whether your significant other is as good-looking as you imagined than the possibility that something is very wrong with you.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. Besides, you could just wingman me with the guy you picked and then go back to shooting people for fun. You’re acting like the end of the world is coming.”

Lounging on your couch, he grabs one of the decorative pillows next to him and begins playing with the loose strands like an easily entertained cat. You sit down next to him, grabbing the other cushion to hold in your arms for security while he exhales in disappointment.

“It’s not that easy. This isn’t something that’s supposed to happen,” he admits, tossing the pillow aside and training his eyes on you.

“Well, you could always ask one of your fellow gods, right? Isn’t your mom Venus or something? I’m sure she has plenty of experience in the love department,” you suggest, wondering if you were being too gullible by accepting and participating in his fantastical stories.

He scoffs, “If she knew about you, she’d just tell me to kill you.”

“Okay so we won’t be asking her for help under any circumstances. Got it.”

He laughs again, and you can’t help but crack a smile of your own. Maybe in another world, if he just happened to be a random boy you bumped into one day, you’d actually want to be friends with him. But in your reality, he was supposed to be a god. If your lessons in Roman mythology meant anything, humans should probably fear those like him instead of inviting them into their one-bedroom apartments.

“You’re probably one of the more amusing mortals I’ve met recently,” he grins, “Do you still want to know who I chose for you?”

Heart racing, it was as if you could feel your pulse thrumming in anticipation. Wasn’t this what every person wanted? To know who they would end up with, to know who they were supposed to love until their last breath? Even if you were a self-declared non-romantic, the idea was still interesting. Its appeal was still undeniable, even if it wasn’t a priority for you.

But then you hesitated, wondering if it was beneficial for you to even know this. Did you like the idea of this cheeky boy just randomly selecting a guy for you? Maybe free will was just an illusion, but how would you even go about your life if you knew that you were supposed to be with someone—no alternatives? That kind of pressure just didn’t float your boat at all.

“Never mind actually. It’s probably better if you don’t tell me.”

This statement surprises him, because he actually leans forward to rest his palm against your forehead with a concerned expression on his features. Up close, you can see the pretty faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and the small speckles of gold in his irises. No, this boy is definitely not human.

“What happened to Y/N?” he jokes, laughing when you brush his hand away to look at him with a frown.

“Look, it doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Besides, now I can pick who I want to be with without your ministrations being a part of it,” you huff, crossing your arms.

Smirking, you can see the mischievousness lighting up his eyes at your words, “And how will you know that the man you’ve ‘picked’ isn’t just someone else I’ve chosen to hit you through the heart with?”

You don’t respond at his teasing question which causes your guest to lean back once again with satisfaction. If he really was the omnipotent entity he claimed to be, you guess you wouldn’t really know if you liked someone out of your own volition. At least you could now pin the blame of being with some of your past exes as a result of Cupid’s interference and not your lack of good judgment.

“I’m going to have to monitor you for a few days. I’ll head back to Olympus every once in a while, seeing if I can find any answers for this oddity. If anything strange happens, just call for me.”

You pull out your cell on instinct, and he laughs while taking the device and slipping it back into your pocket. Instead, he takes your hands in his and intertwines your fingers together as if you were praying.

“You want me to pray to you and you’ll just show up?” you ask incredulously, trying hard to ignore the way you could feel the blood rushing to your head at his warm touch against the backs of your hands.

He nods, “It’s how it used to be, back when you all believed in us. I’ll be off now. See you tomorrow.”

One second, he’s there and the next he’s not. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, fingers interlocked, you could genuinely convince yourself that you had just had an extremely hyper realistic dream. Unfortunately, the lingering heat of his hold on you remains undeniable.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Enjoying the tart taste spreading across your tongue from your homemade lemon tea, you set your glass down before admiring the semi-finished piece in front of you. You had set the wedding dress onto a mannequin in your studio after completing the final details to better observe the overall look. You need to pull in the waist a bit more and fix the neckline, so you step forward to remove the dress and get to work again.

“It looks nice.”

The sudden words cause you to almost trip over your own feet and you have no choice but to grab your mannequin for balance. Cupid chuckles from behind you, and you glance at him wide-eyed long enough to catch what look like wings folding behind his back before they disappear.

“Hello,” you squeak, surprised at his random entrance after leaving you alone for two days.

“You’re quite talented for someone who designs and makes the pieces herself,” he muses, stepping closer to you to catch the fabric of the lace sleeve in his fingertips.

“It’s nothing really. I’m just a decent option for someone looking for something original and unique, I suppose.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him and the motion sends an entire series of shockwaves through your system. No one had been this close to you in a long time, so maybe you were just reacting because of the unfamiliarity.

Yeah, that’s probably what it was.

Cupid hesitates, as if he had lost his train of thought, before quickly recovering, “Give yourself more credit, love.”

Pulling away from you, he leans back against your workbench with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Shaking the bangs away from his eyes, he says, “Do you feel any different?”

“No. I had half the mind that I just dreamt the whole thing,” you reply, finally letting go of the mannequin and stepping towards your desk to find some thread and a sewing needle.

He hums in thought, watching your movements as he says, “I haven’t had much luck either. I went to Vulcan, asked him if he could look at my arrows. He said they were in good working order but replaced a few of them anyways at my request.”

“Vulcan? Is that Hephaestus’s Roman name?”

“Yes, I wonder why Greek names are more familiar to you. Perhaps schooling is different nowadays,” he comments, watching as you take a seat across from him and begin making your adjustments.

“If it’s any consolation, they do look shinier than before,” you tease, pointing at the quiver appearing on his back.

He gives you an amused chuckle, pulling out one of the arrows to examine it from its point to the sleek feathers at its very end. When it finally disappears from his hands to return to its home on his back, he quips, “Are you sure you’re not a demigod?”

The question catches you off guard for sure, but you decide to play his game anyways, and think back to your parents. Did they ever do anything that seemed…otherworldly? Did they seem like the type of people to run off and have a tryst with some Olympian god or goddess?

Haha, definitely not.

You shake your head, giggling at the possibility since you knew your parents very well. He takes your answer with a nod and continues looking out towards the large window at the scene outside. The sky is a pale blue today with fluffy white clouds gliding by with ease. You were almost done with this order, and you planned to ship it to your customer this weekend. Maybe you’d enjoy a picnic outside to celebrate afterwards.

“Do you…have another name that you use? Calling you Cupid just seems weird. I still can’t get the name to disassociate from the image of a chubby winged baby in my head.”

He takes your question seriously, a trait you notice by the way he’s seemingly lost in thought. You wait patiently though, continuing to work on your methodical stiches as he ponders.

“Yoongi,” he finally says, appearing satisfied.

“Yoongi? That’s an interesting choice,” you reply, feeling the way this new name rolled off your tongue.

“It was the name of a mortal I knew. I quite like it.”

You accept his choice, finishing your alteration on the neckline and deciding to call it a day. You’ll spend the next few days attaching the sequins, which was bound to be an exhausting task. Just as you’re about to set the dress back on your trusty mannequin, the sound of glass breaking causes you to scream.

A creature seemingly out of your worst nightmares crawls through the windowpane, flames of fire spilling from its mouth. You can’t help but cling onto the back of Yoongi’s sweatshirt once he backs up against you in a defensive stance. The monster looks like a lion from the front, but you notice what appears to be a snake lazily dancing back and forth from where its tail ought to be. Oh, and was that the head of a goat sticking out from its back?

You never thought about how you would die, but this sure wasn’t at the top of your list.

“Fuck, why is this here?” Yoongi growls, and the deep sound that resonates from his chest makes you tighten your fingers on him.

“What is it?” you ask, but the way your voice is compressed in fear barely lets the words escape from your lips. It seems to ignore Cupid altogether, the blazing coals it calls eyes refusing to look away from your fearful expression.

He ignores your question, instead sweeping you off your feet and uttering, “Hold on tight” before skirting around the edge of the room with the creature hot on his heels. You don’t need to be told twice, immediately ducking your head into his shoulder, trying your best to ignore the way the beast sounded dangerously close. When you finally dare to open your eyes, Yoongi has ducked through the gaping hole where your window once was with his hand on the back of your head. He looks down at you briefly before jumping off the ledge.

Your scream sticks in your throat, as you feel the pit of your stomach fall alongside your body. A second later however, the two of you are gliding upwards as if flying. The buildings are a blur with how fast you are going, so you opt to just close your eyes and keep a locked grip on your savior. Even though you had no clue where you were being taken, you sure as hell weren’t about to return to your apartment even if it hadn’t turned into a pile of ashes by now.

When Yoongi finally stops, it feels like an eternity has passed, and your head is so dizzy that you’re forced to lean against a tree for support. As you try to keep the contents of your stomach from making an appearance, you make out the blurry form of your new friend pacing back and forth with his hair a mess. He is very clearly stressed, so you shift to grip the side of his pant leg when he paces closer to you.

“We’re fine now,” you mumble, tugging him closer. You hope he sits down so you could lean your head on his shoulder. It was starting to get chilly and you want to get ahold of whatever warmth was currently available.

Perhaps he can read your mind too because he kneels in the grass in front of you and fixes the locks of hair plastered to your clammy skin. He doesn’t seem the least bit grossed out, instead having what looks like worry in those odd eyes of his.

“I can’t believe you’re reassuring me when I’m pretty sure you would’ve died if I weren’t there.”

The words bring you back to reality as you shudder uncontrollably. You definitely would’ve died. That thing looked like it could rip you in two if it truly wanted to, and you weren’t exactly skilled in self-defense. Maybe you were too dumb to realize the danger of the current situation, but you were more concerned by the fact that Yoongi looked deathly afraid.

“Was that something from…your world?” you ask, grateful for the gentle grasp Yoongi had on your wrists. It comforted you knowing that you weren’t alone in this chaos.

“That was a chimera. Our worlds are essentially one and the same, but yes, creatures like that usually don’t just stop by for a house party,” he grunts, shifting so he can sit in front of you with his legs splayed to corner you against the tree.

You still have your legs pulled against your chest, so you lean your cheek against your knees as you regard him intently. He didn’t look anything like a god, and if you saw Yoongi walking on the street you probably wouldn’t have given him a second look. This whole ordeal balanced on the edge of surreal, but you were sure now that with whatever just happened, you were in danger. You wish the arrow worked on you earlier. You would’ve fell in love with some random person but at least you wouldn’t be fearing for your life. Maybe you wouldn’t have met the living embodiment of attraction, but you would’ve been back to normalcy. Isn’t that well worth it?

Struggling to understand why your heart hesitated at the possibility of never meeting Yoongi, you’re barely aware that he is pulling you to your feet until he has an arm wrapped around your waist to support your weak form.

“Can you stand?” he asks, and his fingers feel like they are burning against your side. Even through your sweater, you clearly feel each indent against your skin.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you give him your best attempt at a smile, following him as he walks you further into the forest. Thankfully, he eventually lets you go when he’s assured that you can walk without passing out. His proximity was doing crazy things to your senses, so you are grateful that he let you process your experiences without distraction.

He’s led you to an inconspicuous cave whose entrance is covered by a few hanging willow branches. He brushes these aside before letting you crawl in. The inside is surprisingly dry and you finally take a seat on a smooth, protruding boulder in the corner to stretch your legs out from the trek.

“It’s not a 5-star hotel, but it should do for now. You’ll be safe here until I find out what’s going in,” he says, and in the darkness you can barely make out his form in front of you.

Snapping his fingers, a fire appears in front of you. As you realize that this fire appears to be without a fuel source, you are once again forced to accept that your life is never going to be the same. Hesitantly reaching out to warm your shaking fingers against the heat, you watch as the light of the flickering flames dance across Yoongi’s face. He looks worried and concerned for you, so you can’t help but look away.

Your hands itch for your notebook, but you simply make a mental note to yourself instead: fire and shadows, a golden-eyed boy, warmth.

At this point, he takes off his hoodie and you can’t help the way your eyes immediately dart to the sliver of skin that shows at his waist when his t-shirt rises alongside his movements. When Yoongi finally emerges, a hand running through his locks, you hope that the heat you’re feeling is only from the fire.

He wraps the garment around your shoulders before tying the sleeves around your arms without a word. Taking one last look at you, he lets his touch linger for a second too long against your thigh before he stands to take his leave. This time, you keep your eyes trained on his as he begins to slowly dissipate. You tell yourself that you won’t blink because as long as you’re looking, he can’t leave. Your weary gaze finally betrays you, and when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Turns out you wouldn’t have to worry about food, because every couple of hours, you’d magically find some food appearing by the fire Yoongi had made for you. Your phone had long since died, so you weren’t even sure what day it was. Using the appearance of the regular meals to gage the passing of time, you hoped that Cupid would come back for you soon. Your customer’s order would be due soon anyways. At this, you couldn’t help but giggle when you realized how much your commitments meant to you-- even if you were on the verge of getting eaten by a lion hybrid.

It appears that Yoongi had been more observant that you gave him credit for. Every meal, he has only given you pad thai with the ingredients you ordered the night you met him. It was cute how he went with something he knew you liked, likely worried that he could choose something you were allergic to or disliked. He did alternate between cool lemon tea in the mornings and warm chamomile tea in the evenings, but you are sure you won’t be ordering thai food for a long time after you get out of here.

Just as you finish the last of your tea while pondering actually praying to him to get him to show up, Yoongi appears before you. Without a second thought, you scramble up to give him a hug. It seems that even for a god, he doesn’t expect this. Your tackle causes him to briefly lose his balance.

“Easy there,” he laughs, his deep voice mixing beautifully with his laughter as it echoes against his chest.

“Sorry,” you fumble, pulling away quickly and wondering if mortals were allowed to be hugging Roman Gods.

“Have you been alright?” he asks, ruffling your hair fondly with a smile.

You hum in agreement, relishing the way his fingers felt tugging against your locks, “Might need to take a break from pad thai for a while though.”

Chuckling, he extinguishes the fire with a wave of his hand before tugging you out of the cave. The sudden sunlight causes you cover your eyes, gripping his sleeve instead to guide you as you walk. Instead, he carries you in his arms once again before flying off to god-knows-where. At this point, you simply submit in his hold, as you trust him enough as the only person who knew better than you did at the moment.

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he has brought you to your apartment, and even more pleased to find that your window has been returned to its original state. In fact, everything inside remains perfectly undisturbed.

“How’d we get in if the window is fixed?” you ask, pressing your fingertips against the glass to ensure that it was indeed repaired.

“I stopped by before the chimera appeared without having to bust your windows open, if you remember,” he teases, pulling the curtains aside to let in some light.

“Fair enough.”

You immediately head inside to ensure that the wedding dress was still in your office. You let a relieved sigh escape your lips when you notice it resting happily on your mannequin in the corner, looking as perfect as before.

“Y/N, we need to talk about something,” Yoongi says, pulling out a chair and straddling it as he watches you work with the bag of sequins you prepared earlier for this project.

“What’s up?” you ask, already getting back to work by sewing each individual sparkle into the layers of fabric.

“The chimera from earlier, it was sent by someone.”

His words cause your hand to falter, but you remind yourself that you have to make up for lost time, so you continue working furiously.

“Who have I angered?” you ask, trying to keep the concern out of your tone.

Cupid sighs, and when he finally replies, you’re forced to drop the dress entirely.

“Venus? So, she found out about me?” you bite your lip to stop it from trembling under this revelation.

He grips your hands in his own now that yours are no longer busy with working. The emotions swirling in his gaze allows the weird feelings to return to your heart once again. When he makes a request of you, you can’t help but take notice of the way he’s practically begging.

“Y/N, please let me protect you. I can take you somewhere she’ll never find you. We can be together, and you’ll be safe for the rest of your life. I promise.”

Of course, the offer is tempting. You aren’t sure if it’s the confusing feelings you’re beginning to develop for him or if he’s working some sort of love magic on you, but you actually consider his proposition for a good second or two. But eventually, the dazzle of the pearl white dress on your workbench breaks you out of your reverie. Did you want to spend the rest of your life in hiding? Would you still be able to do what you loved? Would you still be able to see your family and friends?

“I can’t,” you reply, giving him a sad smile and a small squeeze with your hands. You can’t accept the hurt on his face, so you go back to work so you can focus on the shiny beads on the waistline of the dress instead.

“I can’t let you die.”

His voice sounds so broken, so lost, so defeated that you almost didn’t recognize its owner. Brushing aside the wetness suddenly flowing across your cheeks as a result of his words and your own fear, you try your best not to let your tears fall onto your customer’s order.

“Y/N please. Look at me?” Yoongi begs, and when you risk a look at him, the tear clinging to edge of his waterline finally rolls down his cheek.

When you realize you’re kissing him, the first thought that manages to form is that his lips are so soft. It’s like you pressed your mouth against a carefree cloud, or some bright pink cotton candy based on the gentle sweetness that slowly begins spreading throughout your body. His cheeks are damp, and you can’t help but whisper “please, don’t cry” against his lips. His laugh mixes with a sob, as he tightens his grip on your waist.

You pull back, and for a second you forget that the man before you is an all-powerful god. As he sits in front of you, brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, he is simply a soft-hearted boy crying over imagining a tomorrow without you. You wonder momentarily if it were possible for him to fall in love, because you were already beginning to feel the rush of falling.

“Am I crazy for liking you?” he chuckles, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer were written there, “I make others fall in love for the shits and giggles, and now I’m the butt of the joke.”

“How did I attract a god?” you muse, pinching his cheeks for your own personal enjoyment.

Yoongi falls back into his thoughts again, and you once again wait patiently for him to form his words. You were willing to wait, because you knew that when he finally spoke, it meant that he had truly considered each and every word he uttered.

“You’re witty. You love to crack jokes, especially when the situation turns awkward. It’s endearing, so much so that I just want to kiss the satisfied grin off your mouth. You’re hardworking and talented, placing the needs of others before your own. You commit yourself to your job, creating art as if it’s second nature. Even after your life gets hit with a whole shitstorm, you work on a wedding dress someone else ordered and tell me not to cry.”

A laugh escapes you as a desperate attempt to cover the fact that you’re certain you are as red as a cherry tomato and that you have the sudden urge to kiss Yoongi again.

The two of you decide to enjoy the simple happiness you feel with your newfound feelings for as long as you can without discussing Venus again. Once again, you find yourself working on the silky fabric of a bride-to-be’s wedding dress in your armchair in the living room. Except this time, Cupid has his arms wrapped around you as you sit in his lap. The two of you watch the sunset together after you decide to take a break, and he massages your wrists for you.

“I don’t want to hide, Yoongi.”

He makes a small noise acknowledging your words, seemingly more invested in nuzzling the exposed skin at the crook of your neck. You pinch his thigh to get his attention before continuing, “I can’t live like that. I’d rather die doing what I loved and enjoying every moment than being locked away somewhere—even if I were with you. Does that make sense?”

“Of course, my stubborn Y/N. I’ll do my best to keep you safe from her nevertheless.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shift in your seat so you can finally look at your brown-haired boy with surprise. You almost regret this decision, because the amount of adoration pouring from the personification of affection himself is almost too much for your mortal self to handle.

“I’m your Y/N now?”

He chuckles, smoothing out your furrowed brow with the tips of his fingers, each stroke leaving a lingering trail of warmth against your skin.

“Are you forgetting the vow I just gave you? A god just promised to protect you, mortal. Have some decorum.”

You frown, feeling too foolishly emboldened to be stopped now.

“Yeah well the witty, hardworking, and talented mortal just asked you a question,” you say smartly, playing with the strands of hair at the edge of his ear.

The golden stars in Yoongi’s eyes seem to shine brighter than before as he says, “For as long as you’ll have me. I’ll love you.”

♡

275 notes · View notes

adenei · 3 years ago

Text

Ch. 3 - How to Win a Witch in 10 Days

Thursday - Pt. 3

Just when she thinks her life can’t get any stranger, James Potter walks back into it. How was she just sitting at the bar, scouting out potential men to dupe, when a blast from the past shows up at her side and asks her to dinner? Of all the nights and all the bars, they run into each other tonight.

Lily’s completely shaken on the inside but forces herself to remain calm, cool and collected. James Potter is the one that got away. The one who fancied her at Hogwarts, had asked her on countless dates—which she turned down—and by the time Lily finally realized she had feelings for him, he’d moved on. It hurt more than she expected it to, so when he walked up to her just minutes ago, Lily wasn’t sure how to react.

She intends to say no when he asks her to dinner, but something stops her. It takes a lot to admit to herself that she’s missed him over the past few years. After all, they were friends before he started dating Bridgette, and they had to work together as Head Boy and Head Girl. The lack of James’s presence left a gaping hole in her post-Hogwarts life that she never expected, and it’s only now that he’s here with her that she realizes just how badly she misses him.

“C’mon, Evans, it’s just dinner. Catching up can’t hurt, can it? I’ve missed you.”

Missed me? Seriously? Does he even realize that he was the one who changed everything? Years of incessant invitations to go on dates, and he finally wears her down only to yank the rug from underneath her by choosing someone else.

Part of her wants to slap him for being such an arsehole, but not if he doesn’t know he played with her heart three years ago. Not to mention that a physical altercation would certainly ruin her chances of picking up another guy. The more sensible thing is to tell him it was nice seeing him, but she’s meeting someone else, but what happens if he stays and realizes that it’s a lie? No, that wouldn’t do, either. Then, an idea pops into her mind. It’s certifiably insane, but if she plays her cards right, it could be the perfect opportunity for revenge.

There’s something so devilishly captivating about James Potter, and Lily decides she does want to get dinner with him. In fact, her mind is set on spending the next ten days with him. This could be Lily’s chance to prove to herself—and James—that they were never meant to be.

She glances up at him to see that he’s waiting for an answer, although he’s not pushy. He knows better than to press for a response. It’s funny how easy a single moment can bring her right back to the Great Hall or the Gryffindor common room. Her traitorous heart begins to beat in her chest as she tries to avoid the piercing hazel eyes that are begging her to let him in.

Well, you know what, Potter? Maybe I will let you in. I’ll let you in long enough to play with your heart like you played with mine, and we’ll see how you like it.

The plan continues to build in her mind, and then some. Luring James Potter into a relationship only to drive him away seems easy enough. After the debacle in school, Lily knows they’re better off apart, and maybe she’ll even gain the closure she didn’t think she needed. Plus, she supposed a snog or two in the process wouldn’t hurt anything if it came to that.

Lily visualizes the checklist sitting on her desk at work and mentally adjusts some of her ideas to make the game she’s playing more believable. Once all is said and done, James will realize it was a mistake to ever have approached her tonight, and Lily can have a bit of fun toying with James in the process. So, the hardened look she forced herself to give earlier now softens, and Lily even chances a smile. She sets her almost empty glass on the bar and glances around to see if she can find Alice and Marlene. They’re mingling on the other side of the room.

Well, they know I’m out to snag a man, so if they see I’m gone, they’ll know why. Lily shrugs as she turns back to James.

“Well, Potter, how can I resist when you put it like that? Lead the way.”

He holds out his arm, and Lily takes it. A smirk plays at her lips as she looks back in the direction of her friends one more time. She catches Alice’s eye and gives her a wink before turning back toward the door.

Let the games begin.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Lily admits as she tucks into her basket of fish and chips.

James has taken her into muggle London to grab a bite to eat, and Lily’s quite shocked by his choice. It’s a small hole in the wall shop that serves the greasiest food, but it’s delicious. The walls are laden with modern art murals and the wooden tables are covered in carved names. It’s a place Lily is sure University students go for a late-night snack or on their way home from a pub crawl. Aside from Lily and James’s semi-formal attire, they fit in well with the crowd.

“Why? Am I still as irresistible as I was at Hogwarts?” James still possesses the same air of confidence as Lily rolls her eyes.

Still as cocky as ever, it seems.

“No, I meant that I’m impressed that you know your way around muggle London.”

“Sirius and I discovered this place on one of our nights out a while back. I come here at least once a week.”

Lily smiles at the mention of another old friend. “How are Sirius and Remus anyway?’

“Brilliant! We were all living together until recently. Finally decided it was time to get our own places.”

“The Marauders have finally split?” Lily feigns shock.

“Nah, not entirely. We still work together.”

“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

James laughs. “We work for Alastor’s Ads. I work mostly with clients from magical games and food, but I’m looking to branch out a bit more.”

“Fascinating. I always did think you could talk your way out of a paper bag,” Lily recalls.

“Come again?” James’s eyebrows crease and one side of his face scrunches in confusion.

“It’s a muggle saying.”

“Ah. What are you up to these days?”

“I write for Witch Weekly,” Lily keeps her explanation short. If he doesn’t know, then there’s no harm in keeping the How To column from him completely.

“Lily Evans, Head Girl, so much promise to do some good in the world, writes for Witch Weekly?” James says.

“It was a job. Now that I’ve got my foot in the door with a company and I’m gaining some credibility, I’ll be able to branch out and actually write what I want to write soon.”

“Soon? How long might that be?”

How does James always see right through her? It’s been three years, but he’s still as frustrating as ever.

“As long as it takes to find an opening in a position I want. I’m not looking to make a lateral move just to keep writing pieces I’m not passionate about.”

“And what are you passionate about?”

Lily fights the urge to answer him right away. She needs to keep the mystery there if she’s going to succeed in her endeavors.

“I could ask you the same question. Do you really want to be selling pitches to restaurateurs or quidditch teams for the rest of your career?”

“That’s a fair question.”

“And your answer is?”

“It depends. I’m working on branching out to different companies right now. I’ve submitted a proposal for Zabini’s Jewels and am hopeful I’ll get the pitch. Should know within the next week or so.”

“Interesting,” Lily responds.

“So, are you going to answer my question now?”

Of course, James doesn’t forget that she dodged his question, but that doesn’t stop her from feigning forgetfulness.

“What question?”

“What you’re passionate about,” James smirks at her, indicating he sees right through this act.

Lily sighs and figures she should answer him. “I want to write articles that can truly make a difference in someone’s life. I’m over the superficial bullshit.”

James leans back in his chair and smiles at Lily.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing. It’s just been nice spending time with you again.”

She returns his smile. “You know, as much as I might regret saying this later, you’re right. I got so wrapped up in finding a job and navigating life in the magical world that I wasn’t very good about keeping in touch with my friends.”

“I suppose I can forgive you for that.”

“Ah, I can die happy now, knowing you’ve forgiven me,” Lily winks at him.

“I aim to please,” James finishes their banter as they gather their things and get up from the table to head for the door.

They walk in silence for a while, and Lily basks in the enjoyment of James's company again. She wonders what he’s thinking about and whether their night should continue or if she should wait until tomorrow. Their feet lead them down a deserted alleyway in preparation to apparate out of muggle view. James pauses behind a dumpster and Lily follows suit.

“Do you want to come over?” James blurts, taking Lily by surprise.

Internally, she’s screaming yes, but it’s late on a Thursday and she still has to work tomorrow. She bites her bottom lip as James ruffles his hair with his hand.

“I’d like that, but I’m not sure if it's a good idea with work tomorrow.”

James lets out a gruff laugh. “Right, yeah, sorry—I just thought—”

“I had a good time tonight,” Lily reassures him. “Enough that I’d like to see you again if you’re interested?” She knows it’s ballsy to make the first move like that, but time is of the essence.

James’s eyes widen at her boldness. “Really?”

“I know, shocking, right?” she keeps her voice light and airy, while adrenaline is shooting through her body.

“Well, I’ve got tickets to the quidditch playoffs tomorrow—Arrows versus Magpies at seven. Perks of signing Appleby as a client,” James shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just as friends, you know? I don’t want you to think it’s anything—”

“I’d love to!” Lily cuts him off.

She’s surprised that he’s backpedaling so much. He was never like that in Hogwarts. Then again, he probably figured he’d have a million more chances to wear her down. If he only knew….

“Really? Brilliant!” James’s tone sounds pleased, and Lily can sense a hint of relief in his voice. “There’s a Portkey leaving from the Leaky at six if you want to meet me there?”

“Sounds great.”

They both stand there awkwardly. Lily’s wondering if maybe she should have accepted his invitation to join him at his flat. She doesn’t want to kiss him on the first night, but after his invitation to the quidditch playoffs as friends, she knows she needs to do something to show him she’s interested in something more than that.

“So, I guess I’ll see you to—”

Lily realizes she’s out of time, and needs to do something so James is aware of her intentions. This is an act, and she has to play the clingy woman that moves before the time is right. Before she can talk herself out of it, Lily’s lunging toward James, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his with purpose. Her eyes close, so she doesn’t have to be disappointed if his reaction is anything less than eager.

She always imagined that the first kiss she’d share with James Potter would be soft and slow and sweet, with him instigating, and this is anything but. Thankfully it’s not forced, but it is awkward as she feels James freeze at the contact.

Shit. Maybe he really is over me. I must have read the signs wrong.

Lily pulls away and turns her head to the side in an attempt to avoid his gaze as mortification begins to set in. She’s about to berate herself more for making a terrible decision and losing a whole day for her article when she sees a flash of black hair out of the corner of her eye as he leans in to regain the previous closeness.

His lips are on hers again, and his hands are splayed against her back. Lily’s hands find their way back to their previous position as the kiss takes her breath away.

James Potter is kissing her back, and it’s everything Lily’s dreamt about since her seventh year of Hogwarts. His breath is hot against her as his tongue grazes her lip before tentatively slipping into her mouth. She parts her lips enough to invite him in as her tongue meets his. Lily presses herself against his body as James groans in response.

Suddenly, it’s as if a switch flips in Lily’s mind, and she remembers why she kissed him in the first place. Reluctantly, she pulls away. James looks just as awestruck as Lily feels, his chest heaving up and down much like her own. Lily forces the thoughts of being back in his arms from her mind despite how much she misses the contact. Once she’s gained enough composure, she chances a glance toward James. He looks as windswept as she feels.

“So, I’ll, er, see you tomorrow?” James’s tone is more cautious than she remembers from their time at Hogwarts.

He looks completely thrown off balance. Good, Lily thinks, knowing she needs to keep him on his toes.

She shoots him a coy smile. “Absolutely. As more than friends, I hope?”

It can’t hurt to solidify her intentions.

“Y-yeah,” James stutters.

Lily doesn’t think she’s ever seen him rendered speechless before and feels rather smug that she can accomplish the feat.

“Brilliant. See you tomorrow,” she winks at him before focusing on her flat and apparating away.

#jily fic #jily fanfiction #jily au #james x lily #inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days #james potter #lily evans

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headcanonthings · 4 years ago

Text

Zukka Hockey AU

(with a hint of Social Media AU bc why not?)

Sokka and Zuko meet in the later years of college due to mutual friends

Sokka is an engineering student with a full ride hockey scholarship; Zuko entered as a business major but by the end of his first term he realized he was doing that because it’s what was always expected of him, he then changes to a double Lit & Theater Major (he decides to minor in business so he can help Uncle with the shop)

Neither of them are really looking for a relationship with being so busy with school, sports and jobs but thanks to their mutual friends they start hanging out and become pretty good friends

After college Sokka gets recruited to the pros and quickly becomes a fan favorite; Zuko becomes a moderately successful screen actor

They don’t lose touch so much as they just don’t stay close, they’ll message each other every now and then but mostly through social media like congratulating through tweets or instagram

But then Aang and Katara finally set the date for their marriage and Sokka is Aang’s Best Man and Zuko is invited as one of their dear friends which leads the two of them reconnecting

Zuko’s been out as gay since college and has been vocal in his career about his sexuality and mental health; Sokka on the other hand, while comfortable with his bisexuality, hasn’t been as open due to the heteronormative culture of sports, plus he’s always leaned more towards women then men so he never feels like he’s really hiding anything (the important people like his family, Aang, and Suki all know)

But during the Kataang wedding the two realize how much they’ve really missed each other and something really clicks between them over the few days they spend together

Before heading back to Caldera Zuko decides to shoot his shot (after a prep talk from Mai and Ty Lee) Sokka hesitates which has Zuko going from some what suave to his usual awkward turtleduck self as he quickly tries to backpedal, Sokka immediately jumps in to calm him down saying he’d love to but he’s not out publicly and sports as a whole ain’t that open let alone hockey and Sokka knows Zuko’s been out and doesn’t want him to like go back in the closet or anything

Zuko says he understands, but he really likes Sokka and Sokka has mentioned a few times over the past couple days that his hockey career isn’t a forever thing and Zuko’s willing to keep it on the downlow if it means giving them a try; neither of them are that big of celebrity that’ll be hard, they just need to be careful

It actually goes really well; they have to deal with virtual dates at first with Zuko in Caldera and Sokka on a southern Earth Kingdom island where his Southern Water Tribe team is located

About two months in Zuko’s between acting projects and he’s been wanting to try his hand at writing (he’s had a few short stories published under a pseudonym) so he rents a place on the southern earth island

(it’s a complete accident on Zuko’s part but very intentional on Mai’s part that the place happens to be only a few blocks away from the hockey training arena)

Being so close makes everything easier; being together is so easy in a way neither of them expected; their close friendship in college means they already know a lot about each other like Sokka losing his mom and Yue and Zuko’s entire family situation

By the end of Zuko’s first month on the island Sokka’s pretty sure he’s gonna ask Zukos to marry him someday; by month four of the relationship they agree it’s time to start telling their friends and family

Their six month anniversary hits and Sokka being RomanticTM sets up this huge display at his house I’m talking roses everywhere and fairy lights strung up on his back patio with specially ordered food and drink from the most romantic restaurant in town and a lit candle on the table and soft music playing from a little BT speaker and Zuko almost cries because he is also a RomanticTM but no ones ever done anything like this for him before

And the night is wonderful and there is absolutely nothing wrong but Sokka can’t help but think about how he really wishes he could have taken Zuko out to the restaurant and maybe done some kind of activity before hand and he’s got some really cute selfies with Zuko that he wishes he could share with the world instead of just spamming the gAang group chat

A few days later he’s scrolling social media after practice and realizes that it’s National Coming Out Day and he sees all of these cute and inspiring messages and he wants so badly to be apart of that

Later while he’s laying in bed with Zuko he can’t get those posts out of his head and he’s looking at Zuko curled up into his side and thinks Fuck It

He tells Zuko what he wants to do cause he’s going to come out but if Zuko doesn’t want to be part of it he’s not going to make him but all Zuko does is ask if he’s sure and Sokka is so he snaps a quick pic of them curled up together gets Zuko’s approval of the pic and posts it with a little message (including a bi and pride flag emojis)

Zuko in solidarity makes his own post using one of the photos they took during their anniversary

Sokka gets a call first thing in the morning from his coach and the PR guy asking him to come in; Sokka’s a little worried he’s about to get sacked but reminds himself that he’s still fairly young and he’s been smart enough to get his masters online during the off seasons

To Sokka’s minor surprise everyone is pretty ok with it; the PR guy is a little annoyed they didn’t have a heads up to help cut off the a-holes on the internet but they’re like the only statement we’re gonna put out is one that says the team supports all sexualities but they don’t want to make a big big deal out of it if Sokka’s not comfortable with that

All of Sokka’s teammates flood his mentions with support messages and follow Zuko’s account as another sign of support

The GAang are also quick to share a lot of pics and messages supporting the couple; Katara is super happy to share some of the mushier and embarrassing texts Sokka’s sent her like a whole paragraph about how pretty Sokka thinks Zuko’s eyes are

Bonus:

Mai is Zuko’s best friend since childhood, she went to school for something like Poli Sci and somehow in the process of helping him move to Caldera she ended up moving to; she helped him with his theater classes like running lines and studying and actually picked up a lot of the behind he scenes info so before she knows it she’s helping Zuko get auditions and PR and when someone asks if she’s his manager she only hesitates for a second before saying yes; she asks a family friend to help write up a contact that Zuko barely looks over because he trusts her

Once the initial fervor calms down, Sokka agrees to do an interview but specifically requests a little known journalist (Korra? A different Krew member?) he picks them based off of Zuko’s recommendation, Zuko remembers how kind and easy it was to speak with them; when Sokka tells the interviewer that they nearly faint

Sokka loves Twitter but Zuko is more of an Instagram guy

Sokka and Zuko eventually end up having two weddings, a small personal one that is mostly family and really close friends and then a much larger event type one where they invite Sokka’s full team and the many celeb friends Zuko’s made like other actors and directors

#I started writing this around national coming out day #Finally found it in my drafts and decided it was time to finish fleshing it out #a;tla #Avatar The Last Airbender #zukka #sokka #zuko #fic oultine #Headcanon #hockey au #celeb au

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Mine

5. Draw me like one of your French girls

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.3k

At this point, I’m seriously considering commissioning my own fanart.

It all started the next morning at our first press release. Somebody had the bright idea to show me some fanart that’s been rolling in the past few weeks of a certain k-pop rapper and I. Not gonna lie...we look good together.

Too good.

Then again, everything about Min Yoongi has seemed pretty good since I woke up to a couple more texts from him this morning. I passed out after his late-night/early morning apology, but he sent another text not long after.

4:32 MYG: So does this mean I’m forgiven? Bong-cha made it sound like you enjoy holding grudges.

9:02 MYG: Morning. I hope everything goes well with you today...is it alright if I keep texting you?

9:02 MYG: Just so I can keep tabs on everything. I don’t want this to get too out of hand for you.

Obviously the poor man is just as worried about all of this as I am. I couldn’t help but give a sleepy chuckle when I woke up to his messages.

So far, I’ve done a wonderful job of ignoring how nice it felt to wake up to a good morning text.

I’ve also done a great job at keeping calm and breezing past any weird questions from the current press conference I’m in. That is, until a Korean reporter (I have a hunch they’re from Dispatch) pipes up not only with a question, but with visual aids!

“Cara, do you mind if I ask you a question? Would you like a translator?”

Reminding myself to be gracious and kind, I shake my head. “Go ahead. I should be alright without a translator, thank you.”

The reporter nods, shuffling forward until they pull a paper out of their file in hand. She gives me a sickly smile, passing the paper up to our security guard who does me the honor of bringing it right to my outstretched palm.

“This is one of the newest renderings, I was just wondering how you have been feeling about this entire situation?”

I already guessed what this was going to be about, but the picture in my hand confirms it.

It’s fanart.

To be honest, it’s very well done. It’s a watercolor, the artist placed us walking along a rainy sidewalk. Hand in hand, Yoongi’s gummy smile on full display while I look down at my toes.

Sebastian whistles beside me, clearly as in awe of the artwork as I am. Before me the reporter still wears her smile, waiting for a response. I pass the paper down the line, allowing Rhea to get a chance to admire the fanart.

Maybe it’s the boost of confidence I received upon reading Yoongi’s text this morning that has me grinning back at the reporter with a saccharine smile.

“Did you draw this? It’s very well done.”

Not everyone can understand Korean in this press conference, but the few that do start chuckling. The reporter blanches for a moment, smile faltering.

“N-no, but if you could answer the question-”

I’m sure I look very disappointed as I look down at her. She definitely works for dispatch; she practically reeks of it. Maybe that’s what gives me the boldness I need as I realize that I’m not even her direct target; Yoongi is.

Yoongi’s nice. I don’t think she is.

“Oh, everything is going fine. Honestly, I should get in touch with this artist. They’re very talented.”

The reporter’s eyebrows flick up, sensing a new method of attack. “Were you thinking of commissioning your own?”

“Honestly, I might consider it. Maybe it’ll make my aunts quit hounding me every Thanksgiving about my love life.”

With that, the paper is handed back to the security guard, but the reporter motions for him to keep it. Confused, he hands it back to me. I turn it over so I don’t get caught staring at it during the conference. That’s the last thing Yoongi or I need right now.

As the reporter takes her seat again, I can’t help but feel a little triumphant. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

🌙

12:22 ME: I never said you were forgiven, did I?

As soon as we get out of the press conference we are ushered into a van which takes us to another interview. I figure that now is as good a time as any to text Yoongi back, seeing that this morning I woke up late and was too flustered to come up with a response.

“Who are you texting?” Sebastian asks. “Is it your friend that always calls you?”

I consider lying to him for a moment, but realize that it might actually be nice for him to know. He can keep me from being unrealistic when I start to fangirl.

He may also help me to keep that promise I silently made a while ago: to not go so easy on Yoongi. Right now, it’s proving harder than expected to dislike him.

“Nosy.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You’re grinning at your phone like an idiot, that only happens when you get texts from me.”

“Ha! Right. It’s a secret...kind of. Don’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll try my best not to.”

Taking an unnecessarily big breath, I spill my secret that I’ve kept for approximately 12 hours.

“It’s Yoongi.” When there’s no immediate reaction from him, I backpedal. “Also known as Suga?”

Before Sebastian can respond the ping of my phone pulls my attention away.

12:26 MYG: Oh good, you responded. I was getting worried you were actually mad. So is it alright if I keep texting you? I don’t want to mess with your schedule.

“You’re smiling again.”

I look up to see an annoyed Sebastian Stan. He’s not very good at sharing attention, and it would appear that Yoongi is no exception.

“How strange, I didn’t realize.”

12:27 ME: That’s fine.

12:27 ME: But I am mad!!

12:28 MYG: Hahaha sure

“Cara, we’re here.” Sebastian says as he clambers out of the car. I follow after him, pocketing my phone.

There’s a few cameras outside waiting for us, but we’re able to make it inside the building without too much fuss. Once we make it into the room where we’re supposed to have one of our interviews, Sebastian pulls a paper out of his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

He smirks at me, unfolding the paper. It’s the fanart from earlier. I didn’t even realize that he’d pocketed it.

“Tell Suga I say hi, at least.” He poses with the papers just below his chin, giving the best puppy dog eyes he can muster up. It’s rather convincing, if I’m being honest.

“You weirdo,” I mumble as I snap a photo. I’m quick to send it off to Yoongi, captioning it.

12:37 ME: Sebastian says hello.

Our interviewer is just about to come into the room when I receive a response. Not having the self-restraint to put my phone away, I quickly take a look. Sebastian peers over my shoulder, curious as well.

12:40 MYG: Winter Soldier!!!

12:41 MYG: Hi. Did he draw that?

I cackle, quickly translating the message. Sebastian looks appalled. “I have better things to do than draw fanart!”

“Yeah, like write fanfiction, right?”

He grins at me. “Obviously.”

12:42 ME: No, but he says he’s writing fanfiction.

12:42 ME: We’re about to start an interview rn but I’ll tell him to send you his rough draft later. 😏

Interviews pass, and it isn’t until I’m finishing up dinner that my phone pings with another message from Yoongi. I nearly impale Sebastian with my fork as I lunge for my charging phone; he’d come into my hotel room to eat dinner with me.

“Watch it!” Sebastian grunts, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. We were promised lunch by Rhea earlier but it ended up just being a small snack as she was whisked away by a long-lost friend. The two of us managed to control our hunger for as long as possible, but Sebastian wasted no time calling up some food for us before we even got back to the hotel.

We barely beat the delivery boy here. He wasn’t all that surprised that we were American. Sebastian had tried out some very choppy Cantonese. What did end up surprising him was that he was delivering a meal to the Winter Soldier. I was able to sneak into my room undetected while the boy’s eyes were bugging out as Sebastian signed his hat.

“Sorry,” I mumble around my food.

9:12 MYG: I’m still waiting for the rough draft.

I translate the message to Sebastian, who cackles and promises to get started on it as soon as possible.

9:14 ME: Sorry, Sebastian said he’s still trying to write it. I’ll let you know when it’s ready!

9:15 MYG: That’s alright. I’ll be patient.

9:15 MYG: I saw a clip from your press conference today.

My stomach lurches as I realize what clip it was that he probably saw. Does he think I’m some crazy fangirl now? I mean, I might be. But he doesn’t need to know that.

9:18 ME: I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?

Sebastian notices my change in expression and shoots me a worried look. “Everything alright?” I shrug.

“Yeah...I just hope I didn’t get him in trouble with what I said at the press conference today. I think that reporter was trying to go against him somehow.”

“He’s a big boy. Did he say anything about it?”

I look back down at the messages even though I already know what he said. My stomach lurches again as I see the three little dots at the bottom of the screen.

“No, not really. He just said he saw a clip or something. He’s typing right now, though.”

9:20 MYG: I thought I was the worrier. No, you didn’t. How was the rest of your day?

“What’d he say?” Sebastian grabs our cartons of food, tossing them into the wastebasket.

“He’s just…”

“Are you blushing?!” My friend stares at me from across the room, eyes wide. “No way! You like him!”

“No! No I don’t!”

“Yes you do, don’t lie to me! You’re so into him!” Sebastians hurries back over grinning wide. “Wow, he must be a good texter.”

That really is helping my blush. “Nooo, he’s not. He’s just nice. That’s it. It’s just fun having someone nice to talk to, you know? He feels really bad about everything and - Sebastian quit it - and it’s just sweet of him to care. That’s it.”

Sebastian stops looking at me with his puppy dog eyes and leans back in his chair, a contemplative look overtaking his features. “I thought I was nice to talk to.”

I pause for a second, breath getting caught in my throat. “Y-you are. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shakes his head, giving me an award-winning smile. “No, I know. Aren’t you going to respond?”

“Oh! Yeah!” I focus on my phone again. There’s an uneasy feeling rising in me at Sebastian’s comment, but I brush it off for now. He’s always been bad at sharing his friends. He’s the same with Anthony Mackey, I’ve seen it up close.

9:25 ME: True, I’ll let you worry. My day was good, just finished up dinner. How was yours?

“There, I-” I look up proudly only to find Sebastian’s chair empty and the door clicking shut. “...I did it.”

MYG: It was great. Got lots of work done.

MYG: Have you decided if you’re going to come to the festival or not? Also, Bong-cha says hi.

ME: Wow, she can’t even tell me herself. No respect. No, I honestly didn’t even think about it today...but I’m pretty sure we’re all going either way.

MYG: Haha she’s not happy with your comment.

MYG: She’s reading over my shoulder, I promise I’m not reading our conversation out loud. Is your director making you go?

I just miss the chance to respond as my phone lights up with an incoming call.

“Bong-cha, quit reading my conversations you little weirdo.”

“Hey, how’s it going with you? I’m great, thanks for asking.”

“Are you still in the room with everyone?”

“No, just left. You should see Yoongi right now, though.”

“Why?”

“He looks like a kid in a candy store every time he gets a text from you. It’s adorable.”

“Yah!”

My friend’s cackle soars through the phone, and I swat at the air as though I could somehow get her to stop.

“Please tell me you guys are coming to the festival.” Bong-cha’s sudden change in tone has me pausing, chewing on my lip.

“We are. Why?”

“Come stay with me!” Bong-cha shouts. I jump up, a grin already working its way onto my face. “It’ll be just like old times. And, I was looking at the schedule you sent me...there’s a couple of nights where you’re done relatively early. We could go do something fun!”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. My phone is buzzing with incoming texts, but I ignore them for now. “Yeah, that’ll be fun. I’m not sure if I can come stay with you-”

“C’mon,” Bong-cha whines. “I never get to see you anymore. We’ll make it work! Oh, I’ve gotta go, Tae brought Yeontan. But let me know!”

With that, Bong-cha cuts the line and leaves me on the other side caught between excitement at seeing my friend and dread at having to come face to face with Yoongi. Texting is one thing; but actually spending time with him?

“Just be his friend,” I mumble to myself. Settling down, I attack my food once more. The space where Sebastian sat before makes me furrow my brows.

What’s going on with him? I mean sure, we’re really good friends. But we still see each other constantly, why would he be so possessive?

It’s probably all just in my head. My phone light up with the texts I received a couple of minutes ago while I was still on the phone, and this time I physically cannot restrain the smile that comes through as I realize Yoongi is still texting me.

MYG: Really no pressure about the festival. I know Bong-cha really wants to see you, but please don’t feel like you have to come and hang out with us.

MYG: We’re not even that cool, anyways.

MYG: Are you just hanging out with Sebastian tonight??

I stare down at my phone for a moment, the smile being wiped from my face. Plopping down heavily on my bed, I close my eyes and power off my phone.

Yoongi is nice. So nice, apparently, that I can’t even tell now if he’s trying to get me to stay away. The fact is simple: he’s a nice man who has a reputation to uphold and is trying to keep everyone happy. That includes me.

He’s nice for texting me and trying to make sure I’m doing alright. Any decent human being would do that. But there’s also the fact that I’m new to this game in the spotlight and I know that I’m not going to be able to keep my feelings out of this.

I take a moment to breathe, forcing myself to push away the impending panic that sets in. This is no way to live, and I know that I’m only setting myself up for heartbreak when someday I don’t wake up to a good morning text from Yoongi.

It’s only been one day of communicating and I can already feel myself getting too attached.

Powering on my phone again, I flinch at the new texts.

9:17 MYG: Bong-cha just told me her evil plan. 😩 Did she tell you about it on the phone?

9:31 MYG: Sorry if you’re busy! Just text me back when you can. Let me know about your plans for the festival, too.

Even though I’m itching to text him back and waste away the rest of the night talking to him, there’s another more pressing matter I have to face. Quickly getting up and leaving my phone there in order to fight the temptation, I grab my room key and head a few rooms down. A quiet knock and a few seconds later and Sebastian is opening up his door.

He looks down at me warily, and I feel almost like we had a fight because of the way he’s looking at me. Emitting a loud sigh, he shakes it off and grins down at me in a way that makes me question if I even saw the previous expression at all.

“Hey,” I mumble out weakly. Moving past him into his room, he follows silently behind me.

“Hey…?”

Without another word I land face first onto his bed, the action pulling a laugh from him. Good. His laugh reminds me that this is real. This friendship is real, and Sebastian for all his annoying teasing, is a true friend.

Bong-cha is miles away and busy. She’s also biased. So Sebastian is the next best thing.

“I’m freaking out,” the pillow muffles my words but I know he hears me loud and clear. The mattress dips on one side as Sebastian settles onto it, and a moment later a hesitant hand begins kneading the flesh at my shoulders. I let out a satisfied sigh.

“What’s going on?” His tone is gentle, and the sound of it nearly tugs some tears out of my eyes.

“I’m pathetic, Sebastian.” I clutch his pillow and bury my face farther into it. “I’m so pathetic! I’ve literally never met the man before in my life, and I’ve spent the last 24 hours sending a few texts back and forth and I already feel like I’d jump off a cliff for him!”

Sebstian’s hands pause in their kneading for a fraction of a second before continuing on. “I told you you liked him.”

I turn to look at him, and again I catch that wary gaze before he drops it. “Really? ‘I told you so’? Rude. I need help, Sebastian. It’s never going to happen, he’s just being nice, and I just need to be cordial and get through this. Right?”

He nods, contemplating a bit. “Sure. He seems like a great guy. But at the end of the day, the two of you are just caught up in a weird media frenzy and that’s it. Is that what you want me to say?”

“I guess.” I huff, flipping onto my back as I stare up at the ceiling. “Why do I like him though? Am I just desperate?”

Sebastian stands up and laughs. “No way. If you were desperate you would be falling for me, not some inconvenient, crazy famous kpop star.”

Somehow his words make me laugh, the feeling easing the panic a bit. “You’re right, I guess.”

🌙

I end up passing out in Sebastian’s room only to wake up at 3 am and find myself a little too close for comfort to my co-star. Gently untangling myself from his mess of arms and legs, I sneak out of his room and back to my own.

Half-asleep and looking the part, I groan at my reflection in the mirror as I try to brush my teeth. Pointing at my reflection with my toothbrush, I give myself a pep talk.

“You are not pathetic,” pause to spit, “you’re not desperate,” rinse out the brush, “you’re just friendly. You’re practicing making new friends, and Yoongi as well as all of BTS are a part of that. That’s it.”

So when I finally settle down into my cold and very empty bed, I don’t feel very guilty sending Yoongi a late-night text. He never texted me again after the last one I saw, and I easily brush off the feeling of disappointment and replace it with relief.

3:13 ME: Yeah, we’re going. No, I have no idea what the evil plan is. Do we need to come up with a counter-plan? And sorry I never responded...I was busy annoying Sebastian and left my phone in my room. Good morning! This is payback for your late texts last night!

I fall asleep easily after that, double checking that my phone is on silent before snuggling deep down into my pillows.

Honestly, what do I even have to worry about? Everything is going great with promotions, the movie is finished and should be well received, and in a couple of days I’ll get to go see Bong-cha and make new friends!

Into the silence, I can’t help but laugh. I’m not dumb enough to believe that everything will go as planned.

Especially not as my dreams take over and the only thing I can dream of is a man in a black suit, turning around to greet me over and over again. I can never quite see his face, but somehow I know him.

Even in my unconscious state, I lie to myself and say that it’s not Min Yoongi.

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Taglist is open! Ready to head to Seoul next time?

taglist: @taylorroe3 @eusticenatalie @agustneeds @oceandeep @prdshobi

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