#they turn their head the same moment the same direction

[writing-mlm]

I think I’ll stay here, just for a second

Summary: Ekko can come to enjoy this Pairing: Ekko x gender neutral reader wc: 700 a/n: SPOILERS FOR ARC 3 OF ARCANEE, i wrote this while watching ep 7

This was wrong. All of this was wrong. Jinx… Powder— whoever she was in this timeline was good, Vander, Milo, Claggor, and— God— Benzo were alive but Vi was dead and… you. Holy shit, you’re alive, too. You’re alive and just how he remembers you. 

He touches your face as he remembers your death, how you died after being taken in by Silko with Powder. How your death was nothing but another day for Zaun, another Undercity kid who got what they deserved from an enforcer. He remembers how he held your body, there’s been so much blood. He didn’t recognize your face, it haunted his dreams for years. It still does, if he’s being honest. 

But now here you were; able to grow up. You still lived with your brother; he didn’t die after he tried to get you back from Silko. He became the chef he always wanted to be and you… his eyes swim in yours as you smile, pressing your face deeper into his hand. 

“You must’ve hit your head pretty hard, huh.” You tease. 

He’d quite literally bumped into you after rushing out from the bar, stumbling into everything, and knocking things over. He looked at you like he saw a ghost and for a moment you swear you saw tears swimming in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” He nods, collecting himself. “Yeah, I did.” His hand drops from your face and you quickly scoop it up, dragging him in another direction before he has the chance to realize. 

“Where’re we going?” His feet stumble forward before he catches himself and keeps pace with you. You look back at him, winking before pressing a finger to your lips. “Okay,” He laughs this light and airy laugh, letting himself believe, even if it’s just for a moment, that you’re alive. That Jinx isn’t Jinx. That Benzo is alive. That this is where he’s meant to be. 

You take him to a spot he’s all too familiar with; a spot you’d created when you were kids tucked inside an empty sewer pipe. Only now it’s grown and the pipe is the entrance. He holds the top as he struggles to keep up, clearly, this was second nature to you. It must’ve been second nature to this timeline Ekko’s too because it quickly grows easier. 

Coming out on the other side, he finds a large room. It’s messy, with drawings and objects haphazardly arranged; lights adorning the ceilings and walls, and couch cushions pushed to the corner. 

He stumbles inside while you toss two cushions into empty spots, waiting for him to join you. 

“C’mon, cupcake. Take a seat, we have a couple of hours before Powder comes and finds us.”

“She— she knows about this place?” His eyebrows pinch, worry overtaking him. The last time she found out about it, she blew it up. He remembers holding the scarps of the cushions, the singed papers that burnt away with the second round of bombs. 

“Well, yeah,” You laugh. “She’s the one who gave us the extra materials. You need to rest, c’m’here.” Patting the seat, he glances around, eyes scanning for bombs because that’s second nature at this point. He only finds his sketches and your hobbies lying around. It’s still your safe haven. 

He settles into the brown seat, your hand wrapping around his shoulder almost immediately and pushing his head onto your shoulder. 

“You still have that headache, Ko?” His eyes close as your nails trail up his fade, the small hairs dancing across your fingers. It feels good, his shoulders relax a bit and he nods, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he sighs. Even here you still smell the same. “I’ll dim the lights for you.” Your free hand reaches up above you, finding the handle that turns the light off and you turn it. He hears it crank twice as the lights lower. 

“Thank you,” He whispers. Your hand trails higher, catching on his hair tie before you pull it off. The white hair falls, sliding off of his head and dangling around his ears. He feels them moving but more so, he feels how you message his temple before lying down, taking him with you. On the way down, he feels your lips against his and he opens his eyes, his chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon. 

He stares at you, his chin resting on your sternum while you smile down at him. 

“You seem shocked.” You hum, still rubbing his head. 

“I’m just… I had a really vivid dream. I guess I forgot about this… us,” Again, his eyebrows pinch and you smile, tucking his hair behind his ear. 

“I’ll be happy to talk about us to you.” You offer. “We’re my favorite story.” 

“Yeah,” He nods. “Mine too.”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

mattheo riddle x single mom!reader where his smile entranced you and your 4 months old son

The day had been impossibly long. You were running on fumes, your back ached from lugging around Benjamin’s diaper bag, and your head throbbed with the distinct pulse of frustration and lack of sleep. Your sweet baby boy, Benjamin, was usually a ray of sunshine, but today had tested even his limits—and yours.

Now, on a crowded bus full of strangers, Benjamin was letting the world know just how upset he was. His cries echoed loudly, shrill and relentless, as he wriggled in your arms. The passengers around you shifted uncomfortably, a few not-so-subtle glares landing on you. One person sighed audibly, another muttered under their breath, and it all made you want to sink into the floor.

“Ben, sweetheart,” you whispered, bouncing him gently, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “Please, please calm down.”

But Ben wasn’t having it. His face was scrunched up in frustration, little fists waving, and tears streaming down his rosy cheeks. You couldn’t blame him, really. You felt like crying, too.

Your cheeks burned as a middle-aged woman shot you a disapproving look over her glasses. You tried to meet her gaze with an apologetic smile, but it faltered halfway. What did she expect you to do? Babies cried. You were doing your best.

Just a little longer, you told yourself. Your stop wasn’t far. You just had to make it a few more minutes.

And then, miraculously, the crying stopped.

You blinked, stunned. For a moment, you thought you’d imagined the sudden silence. But no—Ben was quiet, his wide eyes fixed on something—or rather, someone. He wasn’t just calm; he was positively entranced.

You followed his gaze, turning your head to the source of his fascination.

Sitting two seats away was a man—maybe your age, mid-twenties—with messy dark curls and a face that could stop traffic. His features were sharp yet somehow soft, like they couldn’t decide whether to be rugged or refined. But it was his smile that held your attention—it was the kind of smile that could disarm even the most guarded hearts.

“Hey, buddy,” the man said, his voice low and soothing, but with a playful lilt that seemed to enchant your son. “What’s got you so upset, huh?”

To your utter shock, Ben giggled. A real, honest-to-goodness giggle. The kind that made his tiny nose scrunch up and his dimples show. He even reached out toward the man, babbling happily, his earlier meltdown forgotten.

Your heart squeezed, relief mingling with something else—something warm and fluttery that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You looked at the man, really looked at him. His easy confidence, the soft curve of his lips as he continued entertaining Ben, the way he seemed completely unfazed by the chaos that had preceded this moment... You felt yourself relax for the first time all day.

“Looks like he’s a fan,” the man said, glancing at you with a teasing grin that made your cheeks flush.

You tried to muster a coherent response, but you were so drained you could only manage a sheepish laugh. “I guess he is. Thank you. I don’t know what kind of magic you just pulled, but I owe you.”

“No magic,” he said, shrugging with a casual air that somehow made him even more attractive. “I’ve just got a way with people, I guess. Especially the little ones.”

Ben gurgled in agreement, as if to second this claim, and the man chuckled—a low, rich sound that made your exhaustion momentarily melt away.

All too soon, your stop was announced. You stood, adjusting Ben in your arms and slinging the diaper bag over your shoulder. The man watched you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before he stood too. You felt a flicker of surprise—and maybe a little nervousness—when he followed you off the bus.

As the bus pulled away, you glanced at him, unsure whether to say something. Before you could decide, he broke the silence.

“Looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, falling into step beside you. “I’m Mattheo, by the way.”

“Hi, Mattheo,” you replied softly, offering him a tired but genuine smile. “I’m—”

Your introduction was cut short by a sharp pang of realization. Ben’s penguin—his favorite plush toy—was missing. You gasped, frantically patting down the diaper bag and checking your pockets. “No, no, no…”

“What’s wrong?” Mattheo asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

“I left his toy on the bus,” you said, your voice trembling. “His penguin. He won’t sleep without it.”

Mattheo didn’t hesitate. “Stay here.”

“Wait, what are you—” But he was already sprinting after the bus, waving his arms like a madman. “Oh my god,” you muttered, watching in a mix of disbelief and awe as he flagged the driver down. The bus screeched to a halt, and Mattheo jumped aboard.

You bounced Ben nervously, watching the bus like a hawk. Benjamin, meanwhile, seemed completely unfazed, cooing contentedly as if he knew Mattheo had everything under control.

Minutes later, Mattheo emerged from the bus, grinning triumphantly and holding the penguin aloft like a trophy. “Found it!”

You could’ve cried with relief. As he approached, you reached out to take the toy, and your fingers brushed his. The contact sent a tiny jolt through you—not unpleasant, but enough to make your breath catch.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice thick with gratitude. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Mattheo replied easily, his eyes softening as he looked at Ben, who squealed with delight and clutched the penguin tightly. “Couldn’t let my little buddy go without his best friend, could I?”

The way he said it—so genuine, so warm—made your heart skip a beat. Ben clearly adored him, and you couldn’t blame your son. You were starting to feel the same way.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, smiling at Mattheo. “Really.”

“Just doing my good deed for the day,” he teased, his grin turning a little sheepish. “Plus, I think I’m Ben’s new favorite person.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you joked, though your tone was light and full of affection.

Mattheo laughed, and it was a sound you could’ve happily listened to forever. As the three of you walked away together, the world felt just a little bit brighter. For the first time in what felt like ages, you weren’t just surviving—you were hopeful.

AUTHOR'S NOTE If anyone has any requests/ideas related to this, PLEASE don't hesitate to send. This is my current obsession 💙

[daisymbin]

10. "do you ever think about us like… as more than friends?" With Joshuaa pls<3<3<<3 and female

of course!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list

fluff prompt #10: "do you ever think about us like... as more than friends?"

it was quiet in the living room, the kind of quiet that felt rare. the only sounds were the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of your blanket as you shifted on the couch. joshua sat at the other end, his legs stretched out, one arm draped casually over the back of the sofa.

he tried to focus on the movie playing on the tv, but his attention kept wandering. the way your head rested against the cushion, the way your lips curved ever so slightly when something funny happened on screen—even when you weren’t looking at him, you managed to pull his thoughts in your direction.

he didn’t even know when it started. maybe it was the way you always remembered the little things, like how he liked his coffee or which songs he couldn’t resist humming along to. maybe it was the way you laughed, so genuine and bright, it felt like sunshine.

whatever it was, it had been consuming him for months, this question that he couldn’t shake.

“you okay?” your voice broke through his thoughts, soft and warm, pulling him back to the present.

he realized he’d been staring. again.

“yeah,” he said quickly, sitting up straighter. “just... thinking.”

you raised an eyebrow, tilting your head to look at him fully. “about what?”

he hesitated. this was it. he could feel his heart pick up speed, a dull thud against his ribs.

“about us,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

you blinked, surprise flickering across your face. “us?”

“yeah.” he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like every word needed to be chosen carefully. “do you ever think about us... like, as more than friends?”

the question hung in the air, delicate and unspoken for far too long. he couldn’t tell what you were thinking—your expression was unreadable, your eyes searching his face like you were trying to piece together a puzzle.

he felt his chest tighten. maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. maybe—

“sometimes,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he froze. “really?”

you nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your blanket. “i mean, yeah. it’s hard not to, you know? you’re kind of... you.”

his brows furrowed. “what does that mean?”

you let out a nervous laugh, finally meeting his gaze. “it means you’re sweet, and thoughtful, and you always know how to make people feel comfortable. and you just... have this way of making everything better. it’s hard not to think about it sometimes.”

joshua felt his heart swell at your words, warmth spreading through his chest. he hadn’t expected you to say that—not so openly, not so honestly.

“i didn’t think you’d say yes,” he admitted, his lips curving into a shy smile.

you tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your features. “why not?”

“i don’t know,” he said with a soft laugh. “maybe because i was scared you didn’t feel the same way.”

“and now?”

his smile widened, his confidence building with every second that passed. he shifted closer to you, closing the space between you just enough to feel your warmth.

“now i’m wondering if i can ask you out without it being weird,” he said, his voice light but filled with meaning.

your laughter rang out, soft and genuine, and he felt like he could listen to it forever.

“i think you can,” you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he leaned in a little more, his knee brushing against yours. “would you say yes?”

“probably.”

“just probably?”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was undeniable. “fine, definitely.”

his grin turned into a full laugh, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“good,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered for a moment, his touch warm against your skin. “because i’ve been wanting to ask for a while now.”

you leaned into his touch, your smile softening. “took you long enough.”

he chuckled, feeling a weight he didn’t even know he’d been carrying finally lift.

“better late than never,” he said, and this time, it was his turn to stare.

you didn’t look away.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Daryl Dixon one where he almost loses her to someone/something/or a walker so he decides to tell her that he loves her and he makes love to her as well. A little possessive and maybe kinda future family references?

.⋆｡Worst Timing｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Daryl is an all or nothing man, so obviously he would only tell you that he was desperately in love with you right after you almost died.

Warnings: canon-level violence, walkers, loosely based around s6 ep9, sorry no smut this time (i blame the luteal phase), angst, fluff, confessions, blood, mention of kids  WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

A/N: Could be read as a part 2 to this but it isn't necessary to read it first

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The sounds of walkers were almost deafening, almost. The crackling of the flames behind him and the squelch of blades against flesh but Daryl forced himself to ignore all of that, though the volume kept increasing like someone had turned up the world’s biggest stereo. 

Withered hands reached for him, but the hunter battered them away with a swing of his knife. He just had to get further into the crowd, he could see the house where the group had been held up, the candles in the window like a beacon in the night. He was only a couple hundred feet away, a few rows of walkers between him and his people.

The sea of rotting bodies parted for just a moment, right as a street lamp flickered to life, and there you were. A crowbar in your dominant hand, your clothes soaked in blood and walker guts, your eyes reflecting the fire in front of you and for a moment, Daryl froze in awe. You gracefully swung the weapon over your head, bringing it down into the skull of a fresh walker before spinning on your heel and using the otherside to connect with the jaw of another. You moved fluidly, like this was a well-practised dance you had done hundreds of times before instead of a game of survival. 

Your arm came down, spiking a crawler through the top of its skull. But suddenly, you stopped moving, your eyes going wide. You grabbed at the crowbar with both hands and pulled back but it refused to budge, and just as you vanished once more into the crowd, Daryl saw why.

The straight end of the crowbar had pierced all the way through the walker and buried itself in the hard soil beneath your feet and with the walkers closing in around you, you had no room to get enough leverage to pull it out. Then you vanished between the walkers once more.

“Y/N!” Daryl didn’t even think as he launched himself in your direction, hunting knife screaming through the air, cutting down anything that stood in his way. He pushed and shoved and clawed his way through because you were all that mattered, you were all he lived for. The moment he met you in that stupid, beautiful, damned farm, his world had tilted on its axis.

Your smile was his sunlight, your laugh, his favourite music. Your body, his aurora borealis. You were a miracle and yet so painfully human all the same. And if he let you die, his heart would wither away with you before he ever got to tell you that it had been yours since before you both had even met.

Red blurred his vision though whether it was from blood or rage, he didn’t care to find out. He threw his broad shoulder into the chest of a particularly tall walker, forcing it back into the waiting blade of one of the Alexandrians and finally, finally clearing the way to you. 

You were pinned against the street curb, your back curved at an awkward angle as the weight of two walkers kept you from standing or rolling away. You held one back with your left arm, its face barely centimetres from your own, as you wedged a knee between you and the second one.

His fingers sank into the rotted flesh of the creature trying to sink its teeth into your forearm and threw it off with so much force that as soon as it hit the concrete several feet away, its skull cracked open, spilling black brain matter onto the street. You were now fully on your back, still punching and kicking in any direction you could, even as the walkers started to thin. You shoved off the second walker, just in time for Daryl’s steel-toed boot to come down right on the back of its head.

“Daryl.” His name dripped from your lips like honey, immediately cooling his head like some sort of balm to his soul. The ground shook as he fell to his knees next to you. The orange light of the lake still burning strong flickered across your face, illuminating every single detail he had memorised so long ago.

The roughness of his palm met the softness of your full cheek, sending a spark of excitement racing through his tired body. “I almost lost ya.” You pressed into his touch, your own shaking hand cupping his elbow as you leaned in closer.

“But you saved me.” His heart skipped a beat and you smiled gently at him. You were here, you were alive and in his arms and suddenly, Daryl couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

Your lips were chapped and dry but perfect all the same as he finally kissed you. A squeak of surprise passed from your mouth to his before your eyes fluttered shut and you pressed against him. Your fingers curled into the soft leather of his vest, like you were trying to anchor him to you as if he were about to get up and walk away. Daryl snarled at the thought, his grip on your jaw getting tighter as the kiss began to heat up.

You were desperately chasing his lips, your feelings so plainly laid out for him that Daryl felt stupid for never having seen them before. He felt your need to be by his side in the warmth of your touch, the faith you had in him in the way you let his weight rest against you. 

The softness of your body moulded to him in a way he could only imagine it would and it was so much more than that. Your nose bumped into his, prompting him to tilt his head. You responded with a soft moan that shot through his body. 

“While I am happy for you two, we still have shit to do, now’s not really the time.” You pulled away from Daryl’s lips with an embarrassed gasp, leaving him cold without your touch. Michonne stood above the both of you, equally haggard and filthy but her smile, although small, was genuine if not teasing. 

“Sorry.” You scrambled to your feet and pulled your crowbar from where it was still stuck. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Daryl, a promise and heat in your gaze, before you jogged off into the centre of town where the herd was now thinned but still biting. 

He watched you go, his heart trailing behind you. “Rick’ll want to be godfather to your kids, just so you know.” 

A blush exploded across his face. “Shuddup.” He rushed after you, cheeks still burning and his body exhausted but he felt lighter than he had ever felt before. Because you were surviving and you were his and by whatever god was out there, he would spend the rest of his life thanking them for that.

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[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (2)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 3.1k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: still nothing major. let me know if i need to mention anything.

A/N: posting part 2 right away, because i absolutely cannot wait for you guys to read more ahhhh. however, i just want to apologize for any sort of grammatical errors. english is not my first language so, please bare with me. also, while i was writing this story, i realised i would love it if you imagine the town's setting and vibe as something similar to "Stars Hollow" from the show Gilmore Girls, except it's a little more modern. does that make sense lmao? anywayssss, let me know your thoughts hehehehhe.

part 2: thorns in the asphalt

Finally done with the motorcycle he was working on, Jungkook stood up and clapped his hands together, sending a puff of dust and grease into the air. He lets out a shaky breath as he wipes his hands against the damp rag and glanced around at the bustling shop from outside. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was his dream finally coming to life.

The half-set-up motorcycle shop buzzed with activity, the sounds of hammers and drills blending with the faint hum of an engine someone was tinkering with in the back. The air carried a mix of oil, fresh paint, and the occasional whiff of pepperoni from the pizza his friends were devouring. Jungkook pushed open the side door to the main area, letting it swing shut behind him with a soft clang.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok—his partners in crime, both in business and in the gang—were gathered around a workbench repurposed as a makeshift table. Pizza boxes and soda cans littered the surface amid spare parts and tools.

"Hey Kook, want a slice?" Hoseok asks through a mouthful of food, lifting a greasy hand to wave a slice in his direction.

Jungkook shook his head, brushing past them towards the washroom. "No, thanks.” he muttered. A few moments later, he returned, his damp hands running through his hair as he leaned against the wall, eyes darting across the shop. Despite his attempt to focus on the chaos around him, his thoughts strayed to you.

He clenched his jaw, irritation flaring as he recalled your sharp tone and the unmistakable look of disdain you’d given him earlier. Yoongi glanced up from the catalog he was flipping through, sensing the shift in Jungkook’s mood. "What’s with the mood?" he drawls, his voice laced with mild curiosity.

"Is it because of the florist?" Jimin asks, his eyebrows quirking up as he tilted his head. The glint in his eyes revealed he already knew the answer. He’d overheard snippets of your exchange earlier in the morning when he’d briefly stepped out to help the workers.

Jungkook groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Why are you even bringing her up?" he snaps, though the exasperation in his tone lacked real heat. "Because you’re clearly bothered." Jimin teases, leaning forward with a knowing grin. "Let me guess, she gave you an earful about how we’re ruining her perfect little flower shop with all the noise and chaos?"

"Exactly!" Jungkook threw his hands up, his voice rising slightly. "She acts like I’m singlehandedly destroying her business just by existing. I tried to be polite—"

"Polite?" Hoseok interrupts, nearly choking on his soda as he fails to hide his laugh. "You? Polite? Kook, I’ve seen your polite face. It’s the same as your ‘don’t mess with me’ face, and honestly? It scares people." he adds, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Not helping.” Jungkook deadpans, shooting Hoseok a glare as he flopped into a chair near the counter. "Look, we’re moving in. Of course there’s going to be noise and commotion. Like what else does she expect? Silence and fairy dust?" he scoffs.

"Maybe she has a point.” Yoongi said, his tone calm as he flipped another page of his catalog. "We’re not exactly a quiet bunch. And you did rev your bike for, what, a solid minute when you parked earlier? Was that really necessary?" he questions.

Jungkook groaned again, throwing his head back. "That wasn’t for her! I was literally just testing the new pipes." he insists, his tone defensive.

"Sure you were," Jimin chimes in again, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. "And let me guess, she’s cute too, huh? That’s why you’re all worked up." he teases.

Jungkook froze for the briefest moment before his head snapped forward, his glare locking onto Jimin. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, it has everything to do with it.” Hoseok adds, leaning forward with a smirk. "Kook’s got a thing for the feisty and cute ones. Don’t deny it." he giggles with Jimin.

"You’re all insane." Jungkook mutters, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking an overly aggressive bite to distract himself from the conversation he so badly doesn't wanna have. "Admit it…” Yoongi suddenly says, finally setting the catalog aside to pin Jungkook with an amused look. "She got under your skin and that’s rare since usually, you’re the one doing the annoying."

"She’s NOT under my skin.” Jungkook argues, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. "She’s just... she's just being so damn unreasonable." He looked away, muttering under his breath. “I don’t even care."

"Uh-huh," Jimin said, exchanging a knowing glance with Hoseok as the two continue snickering. "Whatever," Jungkook grumbles, leaning back in his chair. "Let’s just focus on getting this place running. The sooner we’re open, the sooner I can stop worrying about her."

But even as he said it, his mind drifted back to you—the way your eyes flashed with annoyance, the sharp edge in your voice as you threw his words back at him.

//

The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows of your flower shop, casting a warm golden glow over the rows of vibrant blooms. You were carefully rearranging a bouquet of sunflowers, their cheerful yellow petals, a stark contrast to your lingering irritation from earlier. The noise from the shop next door had finally died down after the confrontation, leaving behind a calm, almost eerie silence.

You let out a small sigh, trying to tamp down your annoyance. "He’s moving in. Of course, there’s going to be noise." You repeated the thought to yourself, attempting to summon some patience. Still, that didn’t excuse Jungkook’s smug attitude. He had a knack for getting under your skin in record time.

The day passed peacefully after that. A few regulars stopped by every now and then, gradually making you think less of the way your day had started. The smiles of your customers as they left, made the effort worth it, reminding you why exactly you loved this job. Flowers had a way of softening even the hardest days.

As you glanced at the clock perched on your counter, the hands read 7:32 PM. The faint ache in your feet confirmed it was time to call it a day. You walked to the front of the store and flipped the "Open" sign to "Close" on your glass door.

As you turned around to walk towards your workbench, curiosity got the better of you, forcing you to make your way towards the window. You peeked out, trying to see something. The sidewalk, once cluttered with tools and crates, was now clear. The noise had disappeared entirely, and the only sign of life was the light spilling out onto the pavement. You couldn’t see anyone moving about inside. Shrugging, you stepped away from the glass, shaking off the lingering thoughts of your new neighbor.

Back at your workbench, you start by tidying up the scattered stems and trimmed leaves. Your fingers had just reached for a bundle of sunflower stalks when the soft chime of the bell above the door startled you. "We’re closed for the—" you began, turning around, but the words melted into a smile as your gaze landed on Taehyung.

He strolled in, exuding his usual effortless charm. He was dressed in a cozy brown sweater and a pair of white trousers while smudges of paint streaked across his hands. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a playful grin.

"Looks like someone had a busy day," you tease, gesturing towards the paint on his hands. "Art waits for no one," he replies dramatically as he leans against the counter like a protagonist in a renaissance painting. "But of course, I had to stop by and see my favorite florist." he adds, standing up straight.

You roll your eyes, laughing as he joins you at the workbench and begins helping you clean up. "Flattery won’t get you free flowers," you quip, sweeping a handful of cut stems into a bin.

"Who said I was here for flowers?" he shoots back, his grin widening. "I’ve got a better idea. Dinner. Tonight. The whole squad—Namjoon, Seokjin, Juwon, me, and you. You need a break, and we all miss you."

You pause, leaning against the counter as you consider his words. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to spend time with your closest friends. But after the day you’d had—between juggling work and the fiasco with Jungkook—you were tempted to go straight home and collapse into bed.

"I don’t know, Tae," you began with a small pout. "It’s been a long day."

"Exactly why you should come." he says, stepping closer, his tone now softening with concern. "What happened, though?"

You sigh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, not wanting to say anything. Judging your expression, Taehyung wraps his arm around your shoulder as he pats your arm. "Sounds like someone needs to vent over some good food." you hear him say, his teasing tone returning. "Come on. Join us. You can rant as much as you want, and I promise you’ll leave feeling at least a hundred times better."

You stare at him for a moment, weighing your options. The idea of being with your friends—laughing, talking, and letting the weight of the day slip away—was tempting. "Fine," you finally relent with a smirk. "But you’re paying for my dessert." you quickly add, smirking up at your best friend.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but instantly grins. "Deal. Now hurry up. We’ve got a table waiting, and I’m starving."

You laugh as the two of you continue tidying up around your store so that you can close up quickly and escape the chaos in your mind, just for a bit.

//

Jungkook leans against the frame of his shop’s side door as his tongue plays with the piercings on his lower lip. He let's out a deep exhale as he thinks about the long day he just had. Though the shop was coming together, the chaos of setting up and managing his friends’ antics had left him drained. He pulls out a cigarette from his pocket but hesitates, staring at it for a second before tucking it back in. With a shake of his head, he looks to his left, eyeing your shop.

He notices how your shop is still lit, its warm golden glow, a stark contrast to the sharp fluorescents of his workspace. He steps a little forward, inching closer to your store and halts just when he's able to get a view of what's happening inside. He peaks from the window, his eyes following through the gaps between the shelves of flowers. From where he was standing, the scene inside felt surreal, like something from a painting—the neat rows of flowers against the wall, the gentle sway of their petals under the ceiling fan, and then... you.

His eyes landed on you without warning, and it was like everything else blurred for a second. You were standing near your workbench, a soft smile playing on your lips as you leaned towards a man beside you. He was tall, dressed in earth tones and the two of you seemed to move in sync, tidying up the scattered stems and leaves, your laughter faint but clear in the stillness of the evening.

Jungkook’s breath hitched. That smile. It was nothing like the irritated glare you’d aimed at him earlier that morning. This was something entirely different. So delicate, so soft, so genuine in a way that felt private, like something he shouldn’t be witnessing.

He crossed his arms tightly, trying to shake the strange pull of the scene, but his gaze betrayed him, lingering despite himself. He stands there, wondering who that man is. A friend? A brother? A boyfriend? A husband?

"You’re staring," Yoongi’s voice cuts through the quiet, smooth as ever but laced with amusement. Jungkook jolts back into reality, straightening as his friends emerged from the shop, now standing behind him. Yoongi leans against Jungkook's shoulder, a sly smirk on his face, while Jimin and Hoseok stand back, each carrying half-empty soda cans.

"Her again?" Jimin teases as Jungkook feels his friend stand beside him. Jimin takes a sip from his soda and squints his eyes, looking inside your shop. "I’m not staring," Jungkook finally bites back, his tone sharper than intended. He looks away quickly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Right," Hoseok smirks, circling around to join them. "Then what were you doing? Meditating? Because it looked like you were ready to write her a sonnet." he mocks, earning a snort from the other two.

Jimin lets out a low whistle. "She does look cute tonight, I'm not gonna lie. I totally understand you." he says, his grin widening as Jungkook shoots him a deadly glare. "I wonder who's the guy." Yoongi suddenly says, tilting his head slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the man beside you. "I don’t know. And I don’t care.” Jungkook snaps, his voice low but taut.

"Oh, you care.” Hoseok said with a knowing chuckle, nudging Jimin as they exchanged grins. "Look at you. All tense and broody. It’s adorable." Jungkook faces them, his jaw tight. "I’m not tense. And I’m definitely not broody. I could care less about her." he huffs.

"Care less, huh?" Yoongi murmurs, raising a brow. "Funny how you can’t stop staring at her for someone you claim not to care about." he laughs as the other two agree. Jungkook scowls, but his friends were truly relentless.

"Come on, Kook, admit it.” Jimin says, moving away from his spot as he starts walking towards his bike that's parked near their store. Hoseok follows him and Jungkook hears Jimin continue. "You’ve got a thing for her. Feisty florist, sharp tongue, cute smile— basically your type."

"She’s NOT my type," Jungkook speaks, but his voice falters slightly, betraying him. He doesn't even realize his eyes have found their way back to you. "Then why are you still looking?" Yoongi asks, his tone almost gentle now, like he was daring Jungkook to confront something he wasn’t ready to.

Jungkook clenches his fists at his sides, as he finally looks away, glancing at Yoongi. He doesn't know what to say, but he turns back to look at you. He observes the way the unknown man leans closer to you, saying something that causes a grin to appear on your face. The sight sends a strange pang through Jungkook’s chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome but he ignores it.

His friends seemed to have noticed the shift because their teasing suddenly softens while their smirks are replaced with something quieter. "Hey..." Hoseok starts after a moment, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder as he carefully pulls him away from your window and begins walking towards their bikes. "If it bugs you that much, why don’t you just talk to her? Not like your grumpy act is working." he suggests.

"Yeah, sure," Jungkook mutters darkly as he shrugs off Hoseok’s hand and continues walking. "I’ll just stroll over there and say, ‘Hey, sorry for all the noise. By the way, is that your boyfriend?’ That’ll go great." he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Hoseok shakes his head.

"I didn't mean it like that, idiot. I meant like... in the days that come, maybe be nice to her, start a friendship... I don't know. She's our neighbor after all. Besides, today's only the first day, You have a ton of opportunities to start something fresh with her." he explains. "Yeah, he's right. It's better than standing here sulking.” Jimin shoots back, grinning.

Jungkook glares at them but says nothing, his thoughts too tangled to argue. His friends get on their bikes and wear their helmets. "Anyways, we're heading home. Lock the doors and make sure you get home safe too." Yoongi says, starting his bike. The other two follow him after a few minutes, bidding their goodbyes to Jungkook.

He quietly stands near his bike, a war between his brain and heart as he tries his best to decipher what exactly he is feeling right now. He shakes his head, telling himself there's no point thinking about all of this and walks back into his shop, deciding to just tidy up and head home. It's been a long day.

//

The diner was a cozy little spot on the edge of town, with warm lighting and the smell of fresh food in the air. Namjoon was already there when you arrived, his nose buried in a thick book, while Seokjin and Juwon were engaged in an animated conversation about work.

"Finally," Seokjin says as he spots you and Taehyung slide into the booth. "You’re late." he complains. "Blame her…" Taehyung says, pointing at you. "Sorry, I took some time cleaning up." you answer, taking off your coat and placing it on your lap.

Namjoon finally closes his book and looks up at the rest of you. "Wow feels like we're all linking up after ages." he says as everyone around the table laughs. "Joon we literally met last week." Seokjin says. "Yes but, Y/n wasn't there. You can't deny but it has been a while since all 5 of us have hung out." Namjoon states, earning a nod from everyone.

"You're right, i have been a little busy." You agree, smiling at everyone apologetically. "Oh it's alright Y/n-ah" Juwon says, as she proceeds to hold your hand on the table and rub your knuckles with her thumb. "How have you been? What's new?" she quickly asks.

Soon, conversation sparks up between the 5 of you as the food you had ordered arrives and somehow you find yourself ranting about the incidents of the day you just had. You launched right into the story, recounting every frustrating detail. Your friends listened intently, their reactions ranging from indignation to amusement.

"Sounds like he’s a pain.” Seokjin says, once you're somewhat done. "You should send him a passive-aggressive bouquet. A nice arrangement of thorns and poison ivy." he adds and Taehyung laughs at his comment. "Or maybe he’s just not used to someone standing up to him, you know." Juwon suggests with a smirk.

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. "Please. He’s not that intimidating. I will stand up to him whenever it's needed." you nod to yourself. "Ugh i hate him. He's like my biggest enemy right now." you let out, rubbing your temples.

Namjoon chuckles, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Be careful, Y/N. Strangers to enemies... that’s a slippery slope." he says, swallowing his food.

"And sometimes…" Taehyung suddenly adds, his grin mischievous "it’s the best kind of slope." You groan as you hear him say that, dropping your head onto the edge of the table as your friends laugh. If this was the start of your interactions with Jungkook, you dreaded to think what the rest of your coming days would look like.

<- part 1 // part 3 ->

[nepenthendline]

till death do us part - Hawks (Keigo Takami) x reader

a/n: unconfirmed reader death, gore and blood mentions, hawks wants to marry you, angst angst angst, gn reader, let me know if you want a part 2 where reader survives!!

Hawks and you had been battling a nomu for what felt like hours now - it was a high end, and even you two, a duo of perfect sync and compatibility, were struggling to knock it down. There were other pro-heros in the area focused on rescue and evacuation, but only the two of you were in direct combat.

Things seemed to be taking a turn for the better, however. Even though most of Keigo's feathers were demolished, leaving him to fight with his swords, and you were covered in injuries and small broken bones, its regeneration was wearing thin.

'Almost there, let's go for the head!' Keigo yelled to you over the wailing of the nomu, in which you nodded in return. As if connected, you both moved forward at the same time; your partner was fighting in front of the nomu, working as a distraction, whilst you lept up from behind and plunged your knife into its head. The creature groaned and stumbled, blood pouring out of its brain as you sliced through the flesh. 'You got it,' you heard Keigo yell above the noise, giving you the power to plunge your knife further. The nomu fell to its knees, making you grip onto its shoulders to steady yourself as it collapsed. Now, at a lower level, you could see the relief in Keigo's eyes and the slowing rise and fall of his chest. He began walking closer to assist you as you plunged your knife again to deal a final blow, however, the next few moments flashed before him.

The nomu raised one stub of an arm over its head, growing some sort of sharp extension from it, and aimed towards you. Before you could react, the sharp appendage shot through your abdomen, throwing you a few feet back and released, dropping your limp frame on the ground.

Keigo's eyes were wide, and jaw dropped as he watched his love get pierced by the creature. As soon as he heard the tear of your body, he screamed your name - a gut-wretching, painful scream. He vaulted forward, moving out of pure adrenaline and fear, slicing the remaining head off of the nomu, and watched it crumble to the ground. He stood still for a moment as the world came to a silencing hault expect for the sound of his blood rushing through his body. He dropped his swords and bolted to you.

You lay lifeless on the ground, blood pooling from your stomach onto your hero costume and the earth below you, mixing with the dirt. He reached you in seconds and dropped to his knees by your side. One hand came to cradle your head, the over hovered over the gaping wound, shaking.

'Shit...SHIT,' his whole body trembled as he looked over you, eyes darting around and taking in the horror. They fell onto your face, covered in blood, dirt, and tear stains that had fallen from your half-lidded eyes. His head shot up, frantically looking for someone, or something, to help you. He spotted a person, a hero, not too far away who stood frozen, watching the two of you, with their hand cupping their mouth in terror. 'Get someone! They need help!' His voice was rough and unsteady from the lump in his throat - something so raw and agonising. The hero nodded vigorously, before running off.

Keigo looked back down to you - the blood continued to spill from you, and his hand was holding more weight from your neck than before. His other hand, the one that rested above your wound, flexed open and closed before he spoke. 'Dove? This is going to hurt, but stay with me, ok?' He pleaded, watching you force a slight nod as you looked up at him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the heel of his hand into your wound, putting pressure on the area to slow the bleeding. The hand under your head stroked at your scalp as you whimpered and winced from the pain. 'I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he murmured like a mantra as he shifted himself so that your head rested in his lap. The, now free, hand came to move your damp hair away from your face and continued to brush through. You locked eyes for a few moments in silence.

'It's gonna be ok, dove, you're gonna be ok,' he forced out, his voice breaking as tears ran down his cheeks. He sniffled before bending down to place a kiss on your cold yet sweat-slick forehead. His chapped lips trembled against your skin, and you felt a teardrop or two roll onto your own cheeks. 'Gotta stay with me, ok? Getting you help, so just gotta stay awake for me, go it?' You weakly nodded again, to which he whispered sweet praises in your ear and gently rocked your head in his lap.

'I-I love you,' you muttered, barely audible. He let out a dry chucke, although it held nothing but grief.

'I love you too, so so much, so keep fighting for me, doing so well,' the corner of your mouth raised slightly at his words, as much as your body would allow, and his grip on you tightened. His torso hunched down closer to you, occasionally brushing his wet nose against yours, or peppering your face with kisses. Your tears were mixed together at this point, you had no idea what was coming from who.

'M'tired,' fell from your lips as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. Keigo nodded in understanding, bringing his hand from your head to hastily wipe his tears on his torn jacket sleeve.

'I know, baby, gotta stay awake for me, though,' he repeated. His breath hitched when he didn't get a response from you this time, except from your eyelids closing for a few seconds, then opening ever-so-slightly. He needed to do something, think of something to keep you awake. His eyes flitted around as he thought before resting back on you.

'Hey, baby?' He shook your head gently to get your attention, letting out his held breath when your eyes moved to his. 'How about I tell you about something really exciting, yeah? Know you can never sleep when you get excited,' he chuckled as he cried, forcing a smile onto his lips. His tone was something like his usual teasing manner, although he cracks and dips in his voice broke his facade. He felt one of your hands shift, coming to lightly grip onto his trouser leg in response. You also let out a huff of a breath, something adjacent to laughter. He sniffled again and smiled down at you as his thumb stroked your cheek. 'Gonna propose to you soon,' he confessed, a pained grin painting his face. Even despite the agony and blood, he still looked at you with the same adoring eyes as ever.

'Yeah?' You whispered, a tear escaping your eye and rolling onto his hand. He nodded, chuckling again.

'Yeah. Got you the prettiest ring and everything,' he saw something of a sparkle in your drooping eyes, so he continued. 'Gonna plan the most romantic, most cheesy proposal you can imagine,' your smile grew wider as you listened, gripping tighter on his trousers, although you had to take a few deep breathes, as deep as you could, before you could speak again.

'Figured, it's not Keigo if it's not dramatic,' he gasped, feigning shock at your words before nuzzling his nose against your cheek. With his face so close, he could feel that your breathes were getting shallower, and your neck was barely supporting you. His head moved back, glancing over you again.

'Dove?' He probed, but the only response was your grip on him fading.

'Baby?' He tried again, his voice growing more desperate. He could see your eyelids fighting to move - you were still holding on, even if barely.

Whenever danger struck, or things happened that pushed you back, Keigo was always there to hold you together and inject you with positivity and light, even if that meant pushing away his own pain and suffering. He didn't ever want to be one that broke in front of you, but now, at your most broken, he was falling apart. He needed you, he couldn't lose you, not like this.

'Fuck it,' he let out a groan and looked up to the grey sky as if to push past his torment, which startled you with what energy you had left. 'You know what? Fuck the engagement, fuck the planning, let's just get married,' his voice was louder than before, stronger. His gaze returned to you once more, relieved to see the dim curl of your lips. 'As soon as all this is over, let's get married. Would'd'ya like that?' He beamed down at you, an expression almost manic.

'Yeah,' you breathed as your eyes closed.

[bewitchedfeathers]

You Don't Need To - Jayce Snz Fic

Jayce has a cold and Mel tries to convince him to take the day off.

This is for @rosieknows who requested sick Jayce with JayMel and Jayce refusing to rest. Thank you so much for your request darling! I hope you enjoy it!

---

“I'm fine, Mel. Really,” he reassured as he pulled on his clothes for the council meeting later that day. 

“Jayce. You're sick. You need to rest.” She hovered while trying not to look like she was hovering. 

“It's just a hh-head cold. I have too much to get done to take a day off. Snff. I have the council and hh…Hextech, and none of it can wait.” He rubbed at his nose with an irritated expression. 

“Jayce…” Mel said soft and concerned, coming up to his side..

“Hey, I'm…fuhh..hh’huhh… Heh’ESHHxxt-shuhh…hhh’HT-RSSHHoo..sndff… finde.” He sneezed towards his shoulder, trying and failing to suppress his sneezes, and then winced when he realized Mel was in the same direction. “Scuse mbe. SNF! Shit, I didn't get you did I?”

“Bless you. No,” she reassured. “But Jayce I'm serious, you need to rest in order to get better. “ 

“I just…I'm already struggling to keep up with all the…political maneuvering and then this…huhhh….gottasneeze-HH’GZZSHuh…shit, sorry,” he sneezed into his elbow and then kept it pressed to his lower face as he scrambled to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. Mel stepped closer and pulled his kerchief out seamlessly, reaching up towards his face. 

He grabbed her hand to stop her from moving his arm. “I've got it, thandks,” he said gently, embarrassed at what a mess he was.

He turned away and wiped himself clean and then blew his nose, grimacing at the productive sound. Mel's hand brushed over his back and he turned back to her with a tired attempt at a reassuring smile. 

“I'm fine. Snf. Really. You don't need to fuss over me.”

“Is that what you think I'm doing?” she asked with a curious tilt of her brow. 

“Isn't it?” He asked hesitantly.

“Jayce, I care about you. And I want to take care of you, if you'll let me.” She reached up to cradle his face between her hands, expression open and sincere. His face flushed and he struggled to meet her gaze. 

“I…thank you, Mel. Really. But you don't need to. I can…tuhh…take care of my-huhhh-myself…Mel…lehhh.. I'm gonna…hhh’Uhhh’EEISHHHoo..” Mel moved to the side out of range just in time for him to sneeze down towards the floor. He swiped at his reddening nose with the back of his hand, cheeks adorably pink. “Sorry.”

“Bless you. And I know you can take care of yourself, Jayce. You're very good at taking care of people,” she said kindly as she stepped back in front of him, “But I want to take care of you. Won't you let me?” 

She could see him struggle between not wanting to deny her but not wanting to accept help either. 

“Please, darling?” She asked, gentle and coaxing, brushing a few loose strands of hair off his warm brow. 

“If it means that much to you…” he conceded with uncertainty. 

“It would mean a great deal to me to be able to take care of you when you're feeling sick and vulnerable, Jayce,” she knew how difficult it could be for him to let down to guard, “Thank you.”

He gave a huff of disbelief tinged with fondness. “You're welcome, I guess?” He said with an uncertain smile. He still felt wrong footed accepting help, and uncertain about what exactly she meant to do. 

Mel merely smiled with her usual air of calm confidence. “Now why don't you change back into some pajamas and get back into bed.”

“Wha-Mel, there's a council meeting today! And then Viktor is expecting me in the-huhh..Snf the lab,” he protested. He coughed harshly into his elbow for moment. Mel shifting to rest a supportive hand between his shoulder blades. 

“The council meeting can be rescheduled. I'll have Allura take care of it. And I'll have someone let Viktor know that you're sick and resting.”

“He'll worry-” he rasped, and then cleared his throat, swallowing heavily to ease the growing ache. 

“Then I'll invite him here so he can see that you're being well taken care of. I'm certain that will assuage any concerns he may have,” she said with a hint of smugness at having so quickly undone his arguments. 

Jayce floundered for a moment before giving in with a crooked grin. “Snff. Alright, alright. I'mb SNFsnf going back to bed.”

—-

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, know that I hoard positive comments like some kind of dragon and then use them to power my writing motivation!

I am currently taking requests/prompts for Jayce and Viktor in my ask box!

[Snz Fic Masterlist] (you can also check my masterlist for my current wip fics)

[polo-drone-001]

The Golden Eyes

Elliot had never been much of a soccer fan, but when his friend dragged him to the Golden Army’s championship match, he found himself mesmerized from the first whistle. The team moved like a single organism—every pass, every shot, perfectly synchronized. But it wasn’t their skill alone that captivated him.

It was their eyes.

Every player had glowing, golden eyes that seemed to shimmer brighter under the stadium lights. Each glance from the field felt as though it was directed straight at Elliot, even from across the roaring crowd. His pulse quickened, his breath catching every time one of those radiant gazes met his own. It was impossible to look away, as if their eyes carried a magnetic pull.

By halftime, Elliot could barely sit still. His heartbeat seemed to sync with the players’ movements, each thundering step echoing in his chest. The crowd’s cheers faded into the background as his focus locked entirely on the team. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he needed to be closer—to see those eyes up close.

When the Golden Army scored their final goal, sealing their victory, the crowd erupted. Elliot stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the team huddling together in celebration. The captain, Scott, stood in the center, his golden eyes glowing brighter than the rest. For a fleeting moment, Scott turned his head, locking eyes with Elliot. A smirk tugged at the captain’s lips, and he nodded slightly, as if inviting him.

Elliot’s legs moved on their own as he made his way down toward the field. He didn’t stop to think about how or why he was allowed past security. It was as though invisible strings were guiding him. Before he knew it, he stood outside the team’s locker room, his heart pounding.

The door opened, and Scott stepped out, still in his golden jersey, his broad shoulders and confident stance almost intimidating. Up close, his eyes were impossibly hypnotic, swirling with liquid gold.

“You made it,” Scott said, his voice deep and smooth. He gestured for Elliot to follow. “Come in. There’s something I think you’ll find interesting.”

Elliot stepped inside, the room bathed in a soft golden glow. The players stood in a line, their jerseys glinting under the lights, their golden eyes fixed on him. It was overwhelming, yet exhilarating. He felt like prey caught in the gaze of predators, and he liked it.

“What... what is this?” Elliot managed to ask, his voice trembling.

“This,” Scott said, stepping closer, “is unity. Power. Brotherhood. The golden gaze is our bond, and through it, we share strength and purpose.”

Scott reached for a golden jersey hanging nearby and held it out. “But it’s not just our eyes that bind us. It’s the gear. The jersey. Once you wear it, you’ll understand.”

Elliot’s hands shook as he took the jersey. The fabric was warm to the touch, almost alive. He hesitated, but the players’ eyes bore into him, silently urging him forward.

“Put it on,” Scott commanded, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Elliot slipped the jersey over his head. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of heat surged through him. His vision blurred for a moment, then sharpened, the golden glow of the room intensifying. He felt his heartbeat sync even more deeply with the team’s rhythm, his mind clearing of all thoughts except one: belonging.

Scott placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, his golden eyes piercing into his soul. “Welcome to the Golden Army. From now on, you’re one of us. Your purpose is our purpose. Your strength is our strength.”

Elliot nodded, his lips curling into a smile as the truth of Scott’s words settled into his mind. The players cheered, their voices harmonizing in a chant that resonated deep within his chest.

As Elliot looked around, his own eyes began to glow with the same golden light. He was no longer just an observer. He was part of the team—a brother bound by the golden gaze, ready to serve, to play, to obey.

Ready to embrace golden glory? Contact me @polo-drone-001, or our Caps, @brodygold and @goldenherc9, recruiter @hades-gold19, and take your first step into the Golden Army.

Unity. Strength. Victory awaits.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette could hardly believe that she was on her way to becoming an adult. The years were somehow long and exhausting yet short at the same time. All the effort she'd put towards building a future career for herself were going to take off the moment she got out of school, and she was ecstatic about it.

The only con was that everyone would inevitably be taken in separate directions, no longer bound by the guaranteed meetings in the classrooms. She supposed that was the inevitable test of friendship going forward - seeing who would stay in contact and who wouldn't - but it was a nice excuse to spend time together before things “ended.”

That was what led up to her and the girls having a sleepover at the Liberty, as if they were all children again. Half the silliness of that was knowing that most of them hadn't even known each other as children, but in a way that made it all the more important to do.

The other half was that the guys had also coincidentally planned a sleepover (guys' hangout, not a sleepover because that's girly, no really, stop laughing—) on the same day, leaving them to divide the Liberty up between them. That left the guys with the deck and the girls below deck, though the guys were generously permitted to head down to the lounge room if they needed anything.

Throughout the experience, Marinette had a blast. Alongside the girls, she chatted it up with a sprinkle of gossip, played games, set up a comfy place for everyone to sleep, and cracked a few jokes whenever one of the boys came down for something or made an excuse to say hello to their significant other.

The plan initially was to stay up all night since they didn't have any school the following day, but alas, the old age of being in their late teens had made everyone too tired before midnight hit. Boys and girls alike turned in for bed in their respective places, the boys in the main area above deck and the girls in the Couffaine siblings' room below deck.

—————

Marinette awoke at some point during the night, feeling sweaty and uncomfortable. She hadn't slept over at the Liberty before and had expected it to be colder than it ended up being, because wasn't it so Marinette of her to over prepare and still have things go wrong.

Pushing off the overly-fluffy and thick blanket, she got herself up quietly so as to not wake anyone. Since no one was going to see her anyway, she grabbed the bottom of her tank top and pulled the shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra and capris in hopes that she might cool off faster.

Tiptoeing, she crept around the girls all sprawled out and sleeping, nearly tripping on Mylene's arm but managing to keep her balance. On her way to the lounge room, she caught sight of an abandoned blanket and looked up, seeing that Rose had gotten up at some point to join Juleka on her bed.

Frowning, admittedly a bit jealous, Marinette glanced at the empty bed on the other side of the room: Luka's. If he'd been a girl and they were dating, would she have been able to sneak into his too?

Of course, they were not dating, not for lack of wanting to but because she hadn't made any moves on him. She'd run through most excuses by then: thinking that he was too mature for her and growing herself into the person she wanted to be, then thinking that there must've be someone else he liked and finding no evidence for that after a few years, then thinking that she was too busy carving out a path for herself and now being at that point where she'd done so. There wasn't any reason not to try anymore, but she still felt anxious about it.

Did Luka even see her as someone attractive, or was she his sister's friend? Would it be weird to ask? Was it better or worse knowing that he would have every excuse not to talk to her again with everyone doing their own thing?

She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts. He was literally sleeping right above her, so it felt weird to be thinking about it, like talking about someone who just barely couldn't hear off in another room.

Heading into the kitchen, Marinette got herself a cup and opened the fridge, peering inside for anything good. She sighed at the cold air wafting out, half-tempted to just shove herself partway inside until she'd cooled off, but resisted and left it at pulling out a pitcher of iced tea. She'd probably regret having a drink in the middle of the night, but that was future Marinette's problem and she preferred it to the alternative of staying hot and gross.

She was only half-awake, but she could do a basic task like pouring herself a drink. With her hands both occupied, she carefully closed the fridge with her foot and put the cup on the counter. Holding it with one hand to keep it in place, she tipped the pitcher and aimed for the sides of the inner part of the cup, figuring that would make less noise than liquid into liquid.

She was so focused on the simple act that she hadn't heard the footsteps coming from up above, nor the ones going down the stairs nearby, nor the slight creak of the door at the bottom of the stairs as it opened.

The quiet, “Oh, Marinette,” however, spoken in the low, melodic tone she'd imagined next to her in a bed just a minute ago, she did hear. Her head spun to look, body stiff as her eyes took in Luka standing there and staring at her.

Also, he was shirtless.

Her mouth opened wide, nearly screaming his name in her surprise before she clenched her teeth to stop herself, then she had to stop herself from overpouring the iced tea into her cup, then she had to stop herself from slamming the pitcher onto the bar. It left her a mess, vibrating in place with the feeling that any movement would be the wrong kind.

“...Hi,” she greeted in a strained voice, shutting her eyes tight. Without the distracting image in her sights, she willed herself to set the pitcher down calmly and get out the jitters with a shake of both arms.

“I'm sorry,” he said. Judging from how his voice projected, he'd looked away. “I'll go back up.”

Her eyelids popped open again, realizing how her reaction must've looked. Rushing over to him, she reached a hand out and said in a hushed whisper, “Wait! No, I'm sorry, you don't have to go.”

She wanted to grab his sleeve to stop him, but there wasn't a sleeve to grab. She considered grabbing his hand instead, which they'd done dozens—no, hundreds of times, but it was different when there was so much skin she could see beyond it. Sure, it wasn't like the skin wasn't always there, but it was covered by the layers of clothing he always wore, layers of clothing that had apparently been covering the nice arms that picked her up that one time they went ice skating on a whim, and the rest of the collarbones that she'd always seen a bit of but were now on full display, and the chest—

Dropping her gaze, Marinette awkwardly slipped two fingers into his shorts pocket, giving it a little tug and blushing beet red as she asked, “Didn't you come down for a drink?”

Because I could really use mine right now, she didn't say.

She heard him breathe unusually deeply, then he asked in reply, “Is that okay?”

“Chest—yes!” She removed her hand from his shorts, waving past her shoulder at the bar. “We can drink together—but separately, because we'll be drinking from a cup but not the same cup since we'll have different cups. Is iced tea good?”

The silence that followed was deadly, but she wouldn't accept death before she had a nice moment with her handsome crush of multiple years. One of the many great things about Luka was that he never wavered at nor made fun of her substantial awkwardness, so if there was anyone to catch her in such a state, she preferred it to be him.

She peered up cautiously at his face, surprised when she saw that he was blushing up to his ears as his head turned to look at her again. She hadn't taken him for the type to get embarrassed seeing a girl partly undressed given that he shared a room with his sister.

It couldn't have been because it was her... could it?

“Then sure. I'd love to,” he finally said, not acknowledging the fumble.

Turning away from him like he was her own traitorous thoughts, Marinette nodded and went back into the kitchen area to get another cup for him. Quickly pouring the iced tea inside, she slid it across the bar to Luka and picked up her own cup. She was careful when daring to look over at him, keeping the cup and her hand in the right position to block as much of him as possible while they both drank.

They tipped their drinks at the same time, and she didn't miss that he took just as big of a gulp as she did, the both of them draining nearly the whole, cool, refreshing thing in one go. It was odd to her that they both seemed equally thirsty, but it was at least a little romantic for them to be on the same wavelength.

Luka took a deep, heavy sigh as he put his cup back down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I couldn't sleep. I'm not used to... this.”

“Sleepovers?” she wondered, fiddling with her cup rather than putting it down. "You've never had one before?"

“There were a couple,” he said with a shrug, “but not with this many people. It's...”

“Too many songs in one album?” she recited, swearing she'd heard that line once or twice from him before.

He met her eyes for a moment, flashing an affectionate smile, then took another sip of his drink. “Something like that. I grew up without that many guys in my life, and on the Liberty it was usually just me and all the strong, smart women who came aboard.”

She giggled, still remembering fond days of Kitty Section and Ivan as the only other guy most of the time. “Yeah. Juleka, Rose, and your mom are all great people.”

He snorted, though she didn't see what was particularly funny about what she said. Tipping his head back to grin at her, he corrected, “I meant you too, Marinette.”

“Uh—!” She blushed all over again, immediately taking in the rest of her drink, lamenting how quickly it went down. Somehow his way with words hadn't faded with time, much to the distress of her heart. “That's... I-I thought it was a little late at night for that?“

That being whatever conversation they appeared to be having right then, the kind that had gone on-and-off throughout the course of their years together.

“I hate to tell you, Marinette,” he began, all with the tone of someone who did not 'hate to tell her'. He reached for the pitcher without looking in a silent offer to refill her cup for her, then continued, “But you aren't one to talk. I'm just playing along to your tune.”

“Me?” She pouted, passing him the pitcher. “What did I do?”

“Your—” His eyes flicked down her body for an instant, but he cleared his throat, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. His face flushed and he, after pouring her another cup of iced tea, filled his own back to the top as well. “You're an incredible designer.”

She was thoroughly confused now, not knowing what he'd been looking at. Sure, she'd taken her shirt off and it was a bit embarrassing having her bra showing in front of her crush, but—

Then, it hit her all at once, her head tipping down to look at herself. She had been branching out when it came to fashion design, with bras being one of them, but she hadn't realized that she'd been wearing this particular one. It was covered with Kitty Section colors and music notes, which wasn't an indicator of anything on its own as it wasn't specifically labeled as such, but what was a giveaway was the clip holding the cups together.

She'd designed the clip after a Kitty Section mask; his Kitty Section mask. Having worn it every now and then to test how good it was at maintaining its durability, she hadn't given a thought to the fact that she'd been wearing it.

Did he realize that too?

Swallowing, Marinette felt the need to physically get away from the situation in her embarrassment. Moving around to the other side of the bar and taking her cup with her, she sat herself down on one of the stools and let her head drop onto the smooth surface. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I—I shouldn't have looked,” Luka insisted, sounding genuinely guilty about it. “I swore I saw my colors, and...”

“You saw right,” she whined, wondering if it was too late to pretend that she was wearing a new piece in a Kitty Section fashion line.

The disapproving frown - aimed at himself - was evident in his voice. “But I didn't want to make you feel awkward.”

It was silly hearing him talk like that when she was the one who wore it in the first place. Did it even matter if she tried to deny anything or make an excuse at that point? She'd been thinking about this when she got up, but now he was actually there, in front of her, thinking he made her feel bad.

She put her hand over her cup, twisting it back and forth on the bar. Raising her head only enough to look at him, she assured softly, “...You didn't. Not you, anyway, because... because you're not any of the other guys.”

She winced, hoping he wouldn't take it the wrong way. It could've easily been interpreted as her saying that she wasn't shy because she didn't see him as someone she could be attracted to or care about, when actually it was the exact opposite.

Instead of responding, he looked away and took another long sip of his iced tea. Watching him quench his thirst made her want to do the same, and she did just that.

“I'm not tired anymore,” he said all of a sudden.

She hummed in agreement. “Me neither.”

They both paused, and for a second Marinette assumed that Luka was just as clueless as her on what to do next. Then, his free hand fell upon the counter between them, angled in her direction, and she sat up to wordlessly ask for clarification.

Their eyes met again, and he asked, “Do you want to keep talking somewhere else?”

She hesitated before replying even though she knew the answer. She did want to talk more, but his words carried more weight than usual and she felt it. Things had already become a bit more intimate and she didn't want to respond right away like she didn't notice it.

She inhaled, exhaled, then took in the rest of her drink and accepted that she would have to set her cup aside for the time being. Dropping her hand quietly on the bar and sliding her fingers onto his, she answered with her full chest, “Yes.”

He nodded once, cheeks noticeably pink, then turned to open the fridge behind him. With one hand he put the pitcher back inside, and with the other he sipped his remaining iced tea.

Marinette felt a buzzing sensation go through her at the knowledge that something was happening right now. He wasn't weirded out by her wearing his symbol on her bra, to the point where he even wanted to keep talking to her? While he was still shirtless?

She needed to do something - anything - to get the energy out.

“I'll be right back,” she told him extra quietly, getting off of the stool and making her way back to the Couffaine siblings' room. She faintly heard him make an affirmative noise, so she felt assured that he wouldn't think she was running away.

The large bag she'd brought her sketchpad and other assorted supplies in was resting near her little sleeping spot. Sneaking carefully so as to not make a sound, she crouched down in front of it and reached inside, fumbling around for the particular object she was looking for.

Forcing down the excited 'Found it!' that she wanted to let out as her fingers brushed it, she pressed her lips together tightly and pulled it out: a scented candle, encased in glass with a few cinnamon sticks on the sticker at the front.

She stood up, stopped, then got back down to place her bag where she'd been. Pulling the blanket over it to give the appearance that she was still sleeping there, she adjusted it until she was satisfied before making her way back out of the room.

Luka was still there, having put their cups away while she was gone, and was in the process of pulling out a large but thin blanket that had been hidden behind the couch. Marinette looked on approvingly, then shyly approached with her own addition to their future of “talking somewhere else.”

“I was going to use this during the girls' sleepover,” she explained, wiggling the candle at him, “but they weren't into it.”

He responded immediately, “I am,” then leaned over to whisper against her ear, “You know where the matches are.”

Her body felt hot all over again, like she'd still been underneath her thick blanket, only this time it was entirely pleasant. He hadn't said anything crazy, she told herself, but she felt affected anyway. So did he, judging by the way his lips twitched as he turned back to the blanket.

With a bouncy but silent pep in her step, Marinette went over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the drawers and immediately finding the matches he'd been referring to inside. Putting it in next to the candle's wick, she glanced over her shoulder to see what Luka was up to.

He'd bundled up the corners of the blanket oddly, giving it some sort of sack shape, and threw it over his shoulder one-handed in Santa Claus fashion (if Santa Claus was a boy nearing his twenties, shirtless, and violently attractive to her anyway). Scanning the room over, she noted that all the pillows on the couch were gone.

She saw then what he was up to and smiled, walking through the kitchen to meet him by the door to the stairs. It was the closest she'd been compared to when she'd tugged on his shorts pocket, and she still couldn't help the little involuntary whine she let out.

She wanted to touch him, but holding his hand seemed strange at that point. She eyed him up and down while simultaneously trying not to blatantly check him out, but as her eyes darted back up to his face, his expression told her that he didn't mind the attention.

He didn't mind it at all. He appeared delighted, actually.

As the hand furthest from her was the one holding the makeshift sack, Luka offered his free arm to her in an obvious gesture. Marinette felt her heart skip several beats, but was drawn towards him like a magnet, bringing her arm up to link with his while her other hand held the candle to her chest.

Together, they went through the door and headed up the stairs as one unit, footsteps in complete sync. At the top, they turned, not to head into the greenhouse area or where the boys were sleeping, but in the cabin where it was tiny and private.

Marinette took notice of how reluctant Luka was to pull away from her, but he did so anyway so he could drop the blanket on the floor and sort out the pillows. She set the candle down in the corner of the cabin, then got down on her knees to help him.

Before long, they'd set up a cute little comfy space with an absurd amount of pillows, the blanket atop them to nearly complete the look. For the finishing touch, she passed him the matches to light one, which he passed back so she could light the candle. The scent of cinnamon steadily began to waft throughout the cabin and the two got comfy on the pillows, staring out at the night that the open area of the cabin allowed them.

Thinking it was about time she addressed the Kitty Section colored elephant in the room, especially after he was the one to prompt them talking more, she rubbed an arm and said sheepishly, “Sorry for not asking.”

He leaned closer, raising a brow at her. “For what?”

“You know.” She averted her gaze, slipping a thumb underneath her bra strap and sliding it back-and-forth. “I felt like I should've gotten permission?”

“Ah.”

“But I didn't know how to ask. How do you ask someone—you know—” She scoffed at herself, waving her hands wildly in front of her. “—about that, but you make me comfortable and I don't make other people feel comfortable, so I just... did it quietly.”

“Mm,” he hummed. That was all he did at first, long enough to make her think that would be the end of it, but then he asked, “Why would it make me feel uncomfortable?”

She gave him a puzzled look, feeling like it was obvious, but he gave her a look back like it wasn't. She couldn't see anything but him then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and watching his eyes follow the movement.

“I...” She brought her knees up towards her chest, resting her arms on top of them. “I always thought I felt things too much? Everyone says that I feel too loudly, but you don't. You're quiet and musical, and you're so nice that I didn't know if...”

She trailed off, unsure of exactly what she didn't know. If it was whether Luka would be dishonest for the sake of her feelings, then she already knew that wasn't true. He didn't seem like the type of guy who wouldn't talk to her again over some awkwardness either.

“...I didn't know if I was enough,” she concluded, and it was as much of a surprise to herself to say as it was for him. Hiding her face against her legs, embarrassed, she explained, “I still had so much I wanted to do for you, to prove I was, so it was better to hide it until then.”

“Marinette.”

She felt his fingers against her hand, then a gentle squeeze as he pulled it towards him. She brought her head back up to watch and he held her hand up near his face.

“I never thought you felt too much, or too loud. Your feelings were yours, and I never wanted you to hide them.” He raised her hand higher, close enough that she could feel his breath against her fingers. “I like them where they are now: here, where I can play the same song back to you.”

And there it was: what should've been obvious based on them mirroring each other over the last few minutes, yet actually hearing it was like a weight off her chest. Her eyes softened, fingers shaking in his hand from emotion, and while it was more apparent on her how relieved she was, an observant eye could see the same - albeit more subtle - on him.

Even while looking so calm, she knew it wasn't only her hand that shook, and it was too warm to mistake it for anything else.

“Luka...” She let out a single laugh, shaking her head at herself. “I used to be so sure you weren't attracted to me.”

“Really?” he gasped, genuinely surprised. With a sense of urgency, he tugged her hand towards his shoulder, extending his other hand towards her free one. “May I?”

She didn't know what he was up to, but trusted him without a word and slipped her other hand into his. He pulled her towards him, slowly easing her onto his lap, then grabbed onto her sides and encouraged her upwards. Going along with his motions, she got on her knees with the inner part of her legs touching the outer sides of his, ignoring the reminder that he rode his bike a lot and she could feel it.

With her having raised herself up enough that she hovered over Luka, combined with the way he stared up at her, she almost felt like royalty being bowed down to and appreciated.

“Do you know what I've been wanting to do since I saw you in this?” he asked, his hands on her bare sides.

Whatever got him to keep his hands there was fine with her. She idly tapped on his shoulders as she held onto them, replying, “No?”

He looked straight ahead, eye level with her chest and deliberately staring at the bra he'd tried not to stare at so far. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth, holding her still as he clamped down on the clip of her bra.

Marinette's heart raced. She shuddered, hands tightening around his shoulders as she felt—whatever he was doing. The front of her bra was shifting along with him and it was hard to get much of any thought going on with his head so close to her chest.

Then, she heard a distinct 'click', and with it came the feeling of the bra's cups loosening. Heat overcame her as her wide eyes stared him down, and he peered up at her with his teeth still keeping the clip from coming apart entirely.

Did he really—and with his mouth...?

She tensed, biting her lower lip at the message she had so clearly received from him. Satisfied, he let go of her sides to grip the bottom of the cups, opening his mouth and sliding his fingers inwards to redo the clip again.

She didn't doubt that Luka being so respectful with her at all times of the day contributed to the idea that he wasn't physically attracted to her, but she learned then that he was a near-adult just as she was with everything that came with that. He just hadn't shown it out of what he deemed to be care for her, which only made him all the more attractive.

His eyes, deep blue and longing for nothing but her, were an ocean of possibilities, with her onboard the boat sailing across it. It'd been an unsteady ride at times, her feet struggling to keep balance when the waves of affection struck, and she'd remained on it for fear of drowning.

But it'd been silly, as not only would he not let her go, but how could she drown when he offered her so much life?

Trailing a hand past his shoulder, fingertips running across his upper back and up the back of his neck, her breaths were charged as she gripped his hair. She got down to level with him, glancing meaningfully at his lips and requesting, “Me next.”

Neither waited any longer for the kiss, Luka's hands going around to grip the back of her bra and waistband to pull her in. Marinette, eager to take initiative, parted her lips to probe his with her tongue, a harmonious duet of a moan escaping them when he welcomed her in.

Had she been thinking at all about being heard, she might not've minded getting caught anyway. Being the person that made Luka play at his best and able to show others that he was hers and she was his and look how lucky they are all sounded incredibly appealing. She was awed at the way his confidence bolstered hers and vice versa.

They tasted each other, both the unfamiliarity of the other's mouth and the lingering hint of iced tea. They were two threads of fabric weaving themselves together, ensuring that they would never have to part again, and Marinette's mind buzzed with excitement.

She'd always wondered why Luka, despite being a smidgen older than her and having raised money since he was able to get a part-time job, had never gone anywhere, staying on the Liberty as if waiting for something. She could be certain then, that he'd been waiting for her, clinging to whatever evidence, hope, or curiosity that he may've had that things were mutual between them. He'd sent the knowledge into her through the kiss, yet another case of talking to the other without needing to say it.

The kiss broke with two gasps for air, their chests heaving as they took each other in. Luka's eyes, once iced over not with innocence exactly but as a way of hiding the depth of his feelings for her, now burned with love and desire. Marinette knew instinctively that hers were the same.

Letting out a breath, she reached back for just a moment to grab the corner of the blanket, bringing it up and around them for coverage. Nestling herself around him and cherishing the way he cuddled her so gently after such an intense moment between them, she could only giggle at herself.

“I can't believe I confessed to you in my underwear,” she whispered, a secret for just the two of them.

Drunk on her affection, he chuckled blissfully. “You confessed to me.”

“I can't believe that's all you're focusing on!“

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! do u have any recommendations on fics that are corporate/work human aus?

Thanks!

Hi! Here are some office worker AUs...

When God Closes a Door… by wyrmy (T)

Aziraphale is a burnt out salesperson, stuck in a boring job selling sliding doors for a wildly incompetent boss. The highlight of his work day is a man he is fascinated by but has never met in person, Anthony Crowley, the sexy purchaser who buys doors for another company. Can two small cogs in two large machines somehow defy their bosses and find love?

Critical Upgrade (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tech) by Kirathaune (T)

Modern Office AU: Aziraphale likes his vintage computer equipment, but it's causing problems with his colleagues. Gabriel mandates an upgrade, and Crowley from IT is assigned to make it all work.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T)

Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

House Style by soft_october (M)

“Since that's all settled, the real question is did he give you his number?” Anathema laughed. “He was looking at you the way you look at lunch.” “Forget lunch!” Michael declared. “He was looking at you the way you were looking at him!” Aziraphale is content in his job as an editor at Celestial Publishing, though he could go for a bit less of doing his boss' job for him. But everything goes a bit screwy when the CEO brings in a consultant with plans to build a program that will turn the entire editorial department on its head. If only he wasn't so handsome

Butterflies in a Bell Jar by Still_Not_King (T)

Arthur “Zira” Fell and Anthony J. Crowley both work for the same company in London, a big office building for Ethereal™ Investments. Crowley is in IT, which is good because his favorite coworker’s husband is kind of a mess with computers, plus his office-mate Zira is fricking adorable. Of course, then Zira finally joins Newt and Anathema for Karaoke Friday and comes face-to-face with the real A.J.. To say they hit it off would be an understatement - it’s like they’ve known one another for years. It’s an adorable little meet-cute. There’s navigating a new relationship, falling in love hard and fast, and the Incredibly Strict No-Fraternizing Policy at work. Cept, turns out that No-Fratrenizing Policy is mostly directed at THEM specifically...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

- Mod D

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Pull Of You - Part 7

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Soulmates - Feeling the pull between each other indicates a bond. A kiss confirms it.

Summary: You meet Steve and Bucky on a Tuesday. Steve ignores the soulmate pull, Bucky can't. There's something about you that neither can shake, even when you're wearing one of Clint's t-shirts and your unicorn slippers. After weeks of slipping into your bed Bucky decides he can't hold back anymore. He's telling you after the mission, whether Steve is all in or not. When you don't come back from the mission, they are both ready to burn the world down and the team have the matches to help. But is everything as it seems and have they been betrayed by someone on the inside.

Chapter Summary: It's been 48 hours and the cracks are starting to show.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of injuries and being held captive.

“Look I know you don’t want me to say it but I think we should head back to the compound and regroup.” Rhodey advised cautiously.

It was at that moment that Bucky lost it. He’d done his court mandated therapy and he’d committed weekly sessions ever since. The elders in Wakanda had taught various relaxation techniques. He’d been keeping his emotions in check or so he thought. With you gone they had bubbled to the surface and now spilled over into what Sam had nicknamed the murder strut and he was headed in Rhodey’s direction. Clint and Pietro blocked his path.

“Move.” He growled.

“Not happening.” Clint replied.

“Move or I’ll move you.”

“Touch him and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Snapped Natasha.

“Yeah, well I’ll spit it out.”

“Why didn’t you have her six?”

“Watch your damn mouth Romanoff!” Steve snapped “You know damn well how he feels about her! You saw her body cam footage. He went to her. She pushed him away.”

“And here we are. My best friend gone!”

“Rhodey might have a point. It’s been over twenty-four hours, nearly forty-eight. We’re going round in circles here. We’re the best there is. We haven’t missed anything. There are no leads, even within two miles of here. We already know they’ve removed her trackers and ditched her camera. We need to discuss other options, maybe call in some help.”

“We don’t need help.” Steve snapped “We, we need, we need.”

Steve stuttered over his words, a lump forming in his throat and tears in his eyes. Bucky’s shoulders slumped and he turned towards Steve pulling him in for a fierce hug.

Vision and Wanda stood quietly watching the back and forth between the team.

“I can feel their pain. All of them, as well as my own. This could tear us apart again.��� Wanda whispered to her soulmate. She glanced up at vision to see his head tilt slightly.

“Vis? What is it?”

“I have a theory.”

Meanwhile………..

Pain is the first thing you’re aware of. Everything hurts. Your head probably hurts the most. You can’t open your eyes. You try but realise your eyelids are being held down. A weighted eye mask or tape perhaps?

A wave of panic spread over you and you soon knew that the breathing that came with panicking was not a good idea. A shooting pain went up your side. Broken ribs.

For fucks sake, you thought to yourself. You decided to get your shit together and allowed your training to takeover.

Smell. Damp. Musty. Sound. Tripping. Water. Voices and a radio but far away. Sight. Stuck. Feel. Pain. Body check. Toes not broke. Ankles. Damaged sprain or low level breaks. Also bound to each and whatever I’m on. Legs bruised. Broken cocsic. Ribs broken. One shoulder dislocated. Arms bruised. Left possibly broken. Hands. Bruised and bound. Right possibly broken. Fingers. Two on left hand broken. Neck pain. Eyes still stuck. Head injury. Possible concussion.

You sighed. Fuck my life.

You tried to separate your ankles but met resistance. The same came again with your wrists. You tried to lean forward but couldn’t move. You’d been tied repeatedly. Excessively and well too. You’d extracted agents that had been captured before and, although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you’d been tied up more than they had. Clearly your reputation proceeded you. You could get in and out of anywhere and you taught others how to do the same.

Being good at breaking and entering, you’d become an escape expert in various ways and you could also slip out of knots, cuffs and traps but that wasn't common knowledge, and yet here you were.

How did they know to tie you up so well? Think.

They knew your skill set. They knew you. Realisation washed over you. They KNEW you.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@mcira @imdoingbetternow @mrsevans90 @blackhawkfanatic

[cellophaine]

Chapter X: APPROACH

Masterlist

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan

Warnings: Angst.

Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.

GIF Source: @/spookyrps

2019. New Rochelle.

There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.

Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.

The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.

Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.

For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.

"You look great."

"You, too."

You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.

"It's good to see you."

You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a challenger."

"No, I meant here, right now."

You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.

"I … I want to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.

"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."

The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.

"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."

To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.

"Tashi has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with us."

"Not when she resents me."

For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.

But it should end here.

"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."

You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.

"There's no more us."

At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.

"Can we talk somewhere else?"

You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.

"I have to go."

"Can you at least think about it?"

Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.

"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."

You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.

Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.

At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.

Tomorrow night. 7:30.

As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.

2012. Columbus, Ohio.

Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.

"Hey. It's you."

"It's… you."

You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.

"It's been a while."

"It has been. How are you?"

You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

"I'm … great! You?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here?"

Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.

"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."

You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.

"Right. No, I mean, in the city."

"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."

"What happened?"

"I got eliminated."

He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."

Patrick gestured to you.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm on a book tour."

"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."

"Thank you."

You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.

"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."

He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.

"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?"

You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.

"Yes, we do."

"I don't think so."

"They got married last month."

It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.

"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."

Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.

"You don't mean that."

"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."

The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.

"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."

He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.

"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."

Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.

"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."

You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.

"Where and what time?"

His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.

"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"

"Fine."

That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.

"How's it going for you career-wise?"

Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.

"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."

You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.

"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."

You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.

"Isn't your family rich?"

"They are. Not me."

His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.

"Why don't you ask them for help?"

"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."

Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.

The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.

"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."

"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."

You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.

The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.

"So … they got married."

"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."

A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.

"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"

You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.

"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."

"I know it all too well."

"Little fucker."

You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.

"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."

At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.

Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.

"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."

"What do you mean?"

You prompted him to continue.

"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."

"I figured as much. It's not new news."

An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.

"Spill, Patrick."

He relented after a moment.

"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."

You looked at him, unsure where he was going.

"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."

You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.

"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."

He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.

"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."

That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.

"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."

"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"

Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.

"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."

You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.

"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."

Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.

"Does Art know?"

"I don't think so."

You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.

"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."

He held his hands up in defence.

"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."

You gave a rueful smile.

"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"

He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.

"No, you're not. You must really love him."

You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.

"I hate that I still feel this way about him."

Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.

"Do you miss him?"

Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.

"I do."

The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.

/

"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."

He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."

His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.

"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."

"How?"

"I, we, can make Art jealous."

You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.

"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.

"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."

"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.

"I really do."

He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.

You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.

Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.

"Did you think about him?"

You nodded and swallowed.

"Did you think about her?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Revenge is always a good idea."

You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."

Patrick shook his head.

"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."

"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"

"I guess not."

You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.

"Come on, you still have to drive me back."

Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.

"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."

His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."

You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.

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[shatcey]

Dark IF (Harrison)

William Harrison

@.archiveikemen made a wonderful translation of the prologue to this event. I recommend reading it in advance so that there are no questions about how we got into this story.

@.kurishiri has compiled an amazing masterlist on this event. I'm doing summaries, so I'm not there. If you prefer to read the full translation, you have that option as well. Not necessarily for this story… This is the main reason why I'm making a summary to fill in the missing parts.

Before I start, I wanna say that for some magical reason (I believe it's fate) I read two stories in which Victor and Harrison are present. And it feels like I'm reading a continuation of the same story. To some extent, this is true. Ally, it's not what you think. I mean, I was destined to read those two stories, not that Vivi or Harry… I don't even wanna finish this sentence…

(clears throat)

This time… there is no feeling that we should read bitter ending first. This is a completely different ending, and it seems final, nothing will remain after it. It's very sad, and if you don't wanna cry, I recommend scroll to the premium one.

Warning(!!!): blood and mention of death.

Kate is running after someone. The glass slipper slipped off her foot, as expected, and the magic changed her dress, but it's not that important. She's running after someone… She follows him into the woods and looks around. There's no one there, and she can't see the castle lights anymore.

Suddenly, a voice asks her why she is here. She looks in that direction and meets the gaze of bright green eyes. Kate honestly replies that she followed him. He looks stunned. Then she asks what his name is. He replies that it is the lying Fox Harrison. Kate thought he looked gloomy when he said that. When he asked her why she followed him…

Here we go… our continuation of William's bitter ending…

Harrison looked surprised for a moment. Kate tried to remember where she might have met him, but she couldn't remember anything. He replied that yes, it is (a liar). But Kate couldn't stop wondering why she was feeling so nostalgic…

He offered her to walk her home, and on the way she talked about herself non-stop. How she appeared here, what she has to looking for, he listened to her very carefully, but he didn't seem to want to talk about himself.

When Kate saw her house in the distance, she suddenly felt lonely and upset. When he said goodbye and turned to leave, Kate grabbed his sleeve. It seemed to her that if she let him go now, she would never see him again.

He asked her if she hadn't talked enough. No, that's not the case, she wanted to thank him for listening to her so attentively. She asked him if she could see him again.

No, no, no, mister! It won't work with us. She remembers you, sort of, and we all know there's nothing to hate you for.

Kate agrees with me and tells him the same thing (the last part). And she added that, of course, she continues to look for what is missing, but she would like to see him every day and talk about casual things so that she can forget about her problems. She thinks that only in such moments she can become herself again. The silence drags on, and she sadly asks if that means "no". But he patted her on the head and add...

You're not stalking her, are you? It's not that creepy if it's you, but still… It's very suspicious that you'll show up as soon as she calls you.

Finally, he released his sleeve from her grasp and left, saying "good night, Kate."

Kate returned to her room. In my opinion, it's too decent one for the Cinderella. She writes in her diary about what happened to her. She has been keeping a diary since she came to this world. By the time she finished writing about the ball, the pages had run out. And she started a new diary with a description of the meeting with Harrison.

And suddenly Kate realized that she didn't remember telling him her name… How does he know that?

A week later

Kate calls his name in the woods. Harrison said irritably: "Again?". Kate remembers that since the day they met, she has been calling him every time something happens to her. He pointed out that she shouldn't spend so much time with him. She still hadn't found what was missing. She feels pang of guilt, but assures him that she is doing her best.

He took the basket she was carrying and asked if she was going on a picnic today. He led her to a beautiful field of flowers.

He mentioned that the prince had been looking for someone recently. The woman who wore the glass slippers. No way! We're in Cinderella, and the prince was looking for someone? Who could it be?

Kate thinks he was looking for her. And in a happy ending, she should marry a prince. And maybe if she gets a happy ending, she'll find what was missing. She noticed how concerned Harry looked and changed the topic.

She can't remember the lying Fox in the Cinderella. No one remembers because… he doesn't have a role. The lying fox has always been hated. He can travel between fairy tales, but he cannot be a character in any of them. There is no fairy tale with a lying fox. Kate was terribly angry. Why didn't such a kind and wonderful person have a fairy tale? She took her diary and started writing something in it.

She tells him that people just don't know how wonderful he is, and she really doesn't understand how anyone can hate him.

The prince appears. Of course, he needed to spoil this wonderful moment.

The prince looked at her and immediately recognized her as the person he was looking for. Kate looked at Harry and noticed how dark his eyes were. She reflexively grabbed his sleeve. I like that part of hers. Don't let him slip away, girl!

The prince noticed Harry and told her that she shouldn't spend time with this "filthy creature". Another person who asks to be punched. This is a rather disturbing tendency.

Kate thinks that despite the fact that she is Cinderella now and should marry the prince, as soon as she noticed that Harry bit his lip, she hugged him. She thinks it's not her happy ending. So she tells the prince that she cannot respond to his feelings.

I rephrased it a bit, originally it was "my happy ending is not about being with you" but I think it's more appropriate to talk about the happy ending she was thinking about. Despite the ending of the fairy tale imposed on her, she doesn't consider it happy. Maybe I'm wrong.

She gets up, grabs Harry's hand and runs away. Good girl! if you can't solve the problem, run away from it. Good advice from Ally.

They're running towards the cliff. I don't like this place… this is already a bad sign. Harry tells her to go back to the prince. He told her that if she chose him, she would not find what was missing. But if she chooses a prince, she might find it. She said she knew that. But she's only happy when she's with him.

The prince appears. A persistent bastard.

She wants to retreat, but there's only a cliff behind her. Prince felt sorry for her that the fox had deceived her. And he said he had to kill him, or her, or both. This guy is really crazy. He took a sword and stabbed someone through. Kate and Harry fell off a cliff.

Bitter ending

Harry hugged Kate so that nothing would happen to her as they rolled down the hill. They fell into a shallow river. Kate thought that the water in this river was the same color as Harry's eyes. She looked around and found that he was lying a little away. She gasped and ran up to him. He clutched his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

No, she's not, but he is… She remembered that the prince's sword was definitely pointed at her, but Harry protected her. And even after that… He protected her the whole time they were falling off the cliff.

He told her that she had been here thousands of times. She was in Cinderella, Alice, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. And every time she had to find what was missing. She did it over and over again, and he could only watch her.

He explained that in this world, if she had a bad ending, she would return to her original world. And at that moment, her memories are erased.

So he lied… they had met many times before.

He asks her to return to her world, forget everything and be happy. She doesn't want that… He wipes her tears, says he loves her, and… dies.

She begs him to open his eyes, after all, he's lying, it must be a lie. But… he's already gone. She had been crying on his chest for who knows how long. Suddenly she heard footsteps.

Victor, do something!

No, not that!

He told her that this was what Harry had asked him to do. Bring her back to her world and never return her here again. But if she comes back, she'll forget Harry, and she doesn't want that. She said she loves Harrison and that's probably why she's coming back to this world… she wanted to see him again.

Despite the fact that everyone hated him, despite the fact that he had no place in any fairy tale, Harrison was the main character in her fairy tale.

Victor took the small key that hung on Harrison's chest and handed it to Kate.

This is also not what I asked for. I should have been more precise from the very beginning.

She doesn't remember how much time has passed since then. She continues to wander through this distorted fairy-tale world in the form of a lying fox, who cannot be a character in any fairy tale. Unable to change story, she just wishes of a happy ending and is overwhelmed by her helplessness.

After another bad ending, she returns to the river and lies down in shallow waters. In her slumber, she continues to dream of a happy ending that will never come true. "I love you, Harrison".

Premium ending

The prince's sword pierced through her… She was lying on the bank of a shallow river, and Harrison next to her looked like he was about to cry. She looked down and saw that there was a lot of blood flowing down the river.

Harry asked why she was protecting him. This time, the prince pointed the sword at Harry, and the moment she realized it, she stepped between them. No, really, girl, dodge! Fall to the ground, throw the sword aside… Do something so you DON'T die. Why do you always act like you have 9 lives?

Kate answered Harry's question that you don't need a reason to protect the person you love. Harry desperately push the wound on her stomach. The moment he thought that if he died, she would just return to her world world and forget about him. He explained to her that this was not the first time she had come to this world in search of something was missing.

She's been through a lot of bad things, and he's watched her die many times… She finally understood why she was feeling so nostalgic. She thinks that if she dies, she will forget about him.

Harry says that as long as she's happy, it doesn't matter how he feels. But he doesn't want to be forgotten anymore. Oh, no, it's a painful topic.

Oh, no, that's a painful topic as well…

She took out her diary. The lying fox is hated, and cannot be a character in any fairy tale. But in this diary she writes only about him, as if he were the main character. And so, with trembling fingers, she writes "the tale of the lying fox" on the cover. She started to lose her conscientiousness, but she heard Harry's words.

That's cute and all… but… the plot is missing.

And suddenly she's not dying anymore. Her eyesight has returned to normal, and there are no more wounds on her.

Victor! Why didn't you do it last time?

Harry asks Victor why he is here (and not at the theater, as I believe he lives) but Victor explains that a new fairy tale has been born in a destorted fairy-tale world, and it will exist as long as Kate is here. He congratulated Harry on his own story. Kate hugged Harry, feeling incredibly happy, and Harry hugged her back even tighter.

Victor clapped his hands, and the scenery completely changed.

Victor disappears, leaving them alone, and Harry asks her if she will continue to write his story. She's the only one who can do it. She happily answers "yes" and hugs him. They laugh and touch each other, as if they can't believe their happiness.

She tells Harry that she finally understood why she never managed to reach a happy ending. That's because the only happy ending for her is with him.

This is a fairy tale that never existed. Until now. And she found it in a slumber. Their own warm happy ending.

It's going to be a very long… I have a lot to add from myself.

I really love this story. It has several levels of meaning, a concept that is very close to real life. It caused a lot of strong emotions. I thought that Will's bitter ending was good. It's good, but compared to this one… It's too primitive. New clues and discoveries about the characters that were side ones in the previous part of the event. And… how poetically it is written… I have indeed given you a complete translation of one part, but I will not tell you which one, so as not to embarrass myself if it's not quite accurate.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Story is often associated with the life of the person. And we have Kate who writes a story (in the diary). So the meaning is very simple… She's writing her own story, her own life. And her story affects other people's lives so much that it creates a new one. I don't know about you, guys, but the thought gives me goosebumps. We never know how our words or actions will affect others, we never know what people will remember about us over time. So the fact that it can be so grandiose is overwhelming. I have a college whose words I remember for many years, and they became a good motivation for me. I'm sure he doesn't even remember saying them.

There was a part in the premium ending where Harry adds an ending to the story… If you look at it from a relationship perspective… A relationship (from my point of view, absolutely silly and unrealistic) is the work of two people. They both add something to their story that changes both of them and the direction they are moving. And Harry adds something from himself to this story, and only after that a fairy tale is born. Kate kept a diary all this time, but in the bitter ending Victor didn't create a fairy tale for them. If it was him… It only happened when Harry added something. He may have added an ending that's important to any story, but I like to think that's not the case. I like this concept way too much to give it up so easily.

The part in the bitter ending where Harry says he's seen her in every fairy tale hit very hard. I remembered another story and I'll tell you about it at the end, off topic part. I'm surprised what after seeing so many times her bad endings… he can still be surprised, sad, and actually continue feel… Emotions can be quite tedious and painful, and sometimes it's easier to just shut them down. Probably not all people can do this… In fact, I don't recommend doing this…. A world without emotions looks gray. Maybe it was depression… hmmm…

So now I have a vague idea of what was in the Harry's story for 95k in the first Dark IF. But I would still like to read it if I had the chance.

I really love this Kate. I don't remember her being so pushy or clingy in his route, but her desperate desire to be with him was literally palpable. And it was from the very beginning. And I find it refreshing that there was no sudden revelation "OMG, I LOVE HIM!". It's becoming old. She didn't realize it all of a sudden, she always felt this way and only in her thoughts tried to convince herself that this was not what she should do. Like… "I have a task… I have to do it… but…" In fact, it's very similar to real life again. I didn't expect that there would be so many references of our daily struggles...

I'm even more interested in Vivi. Is he some kind of keeper of this world? Is he as attached to it as Harry is? With the key? But he's more detached from the characters than Harry ever was. Perhaps because of how long he's been here… I don't know. We don't see any magic in him other than changing a fairy tale by clapping his hands, but Harry said he can do it too, so I don't see any difference. And if Vivi didn't create anything, then how was the fairy tale created? Who did this and why?

In William's Bitter Ending, Vivi said he will restart the story. So… he has sort of control over it. And it was he who sent Kate to look for the missing piece… so he should know what is missing.

Vivi is actually very sympathetic here. In the bitter ending, he seemed very upset about Kate's loss and gave her the key so she could stay. I suppose he had no other choice. It wasn't very kind of him, he should understand how difficult it is to be a lying fox in this world, but he still offers her this option as an alternative to forgetting everything. And in the premium ending, he is sincerely happy for them and believes that their future will be bright.

But… Maybe it's just a slumber… To find answers, we need to wait another year. Hopefully when Vivi's story comes out. But around April next year, Vivi's route will be released, and perhaps it will give us at least some hints of what to expect from this event. I'm very much looking forward to it.

And finally. But this is really off topic. There is a game called Mystic messager. If you play it, you know a character named Seven. That's not his name, that's what he called himself. For those of you who haven't played this game, this game in the form of a chats. You have several options to choose from, and based on your choises, you will reach one of the endings with one of the characters. There are a lot of bad endings. The whole game will take you 10 days (if I remember correctly). And less if you've reached a bad ending. Real days. But if you want to reach another ending, you should start over. And all the characters will think of you as a complete stranger... again. Doesn't it sound familiar? There was a theory in the community that Seven was the only one who never forgot. Who remembered her every restart, who loved her on every route. And then I read Harrison's endings… I thought… this is proof that the theory is correct. It doesn't matter that this is a completely different world and completely different developers. It still counts!!!

After reading Vivi's story translated by @.reccyls… I want to add a bit. I feel terribly stupid because I didn't figure out what was missing. It's like I'm truely a biggest idiot. That's how I feel. It was kind of obvious… And I like Vivi even more now. His " There has never been a single person like you before." hit me hard. As if it's really impossible. I don't feel despair from him, just calm loneliness. It's like he's already come to terms with it and doesn't even think that anything can change. This is even more upsetting.

And finally, there was another fairy tale mentioned in Vivi's story… a little mermaid. We don't have any characters from this fairy tale yet. Is this a hint for the next group of boys?…

dividers @.sister-lucifer (recolored with the author's permission)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[izzyy-stuff]

hi!! this is for the 300 bash 💗 congrats!! it’s a huge milestone and i can’t wait to read more of ur work!!

could you write about yeonjun and the reader being castmates in an upcoming drama? they grow close because they spend so much time together, maybe they practice a kiss scene in the dressing room (even though no one asked them to) and it goes a little off-script…

when it’s time to promote it, they fake date to get the drama trending and that’s when they realise they really like each other!!!

hehehe idk ive been thinking about this a bunch and it’s driving me crazy

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍

Actor!Yeonjun x fem!reader

in which Choi Yeonjun really messes with your head when he suggest you fake a relationship with him to promote your upcoming drama

wc 2k

warnings kissing, lot's of flirting

↪ izzy speaks... okay I loved this idea. I do feel like some of the parts are a bit rushed since I had to fit it in my word limit, but I think it's still good :3 this is NOT proofread by the way

event post | event masterlist

“And…cut!” You hear the director’s voice and breathe out, your lips slightly shaking. It feels like you’ve breathed for the first time in forever, but at the same time, you still feel like you can’t breathe. It’s his fault. Everything is his fault. 

“Hey, are you feeling–” your co-star – Choi Yeonjun starts, but before he can finish his sentence, you’re backing off from him, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. 

You run away as fast as possible, locking yourself in your dressing room before anyone can stop you. You slide on the closed door, pulling your knees to your head and closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. Stupid Yeonjun. Stupid show. Stupid, stupid, stupid– “Stupid kiss,” you mumble, your cheeks red. 

How did all of this even happen, you wonder? It’s simple. It all started when Choi Yeonjun, the prettiest guy you’ve ever met, decided to charm you and do everything in his power to make you question your feelings for him. 

♡⸝⸝ 

A few days ago

“The trailer for part one has been released.” You look up from the script in your hands, locking eyes with your co-star who had brought the news to you. “Really? We have to watch it together!” You beam, automatically getting a smile on his face. He nods, sliding into the chair next to you as he takes out his phone. “I saw a bit already. You’re gorgeous in it.” Blush creeps up your face, and you can’t look in his direction. “What? Don’t you believe me?” He whispers, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face as he leans in closer. 

“Turn on the trailer,” you whisper, sounding more desperate than you would want to. Yeonjun chuckles, “Alright, sweetheart,” leaving his lips as he straightens his back again. 

You do your best to focus on the video playing on Yeonjun’s phone, but the boy beside you makes it much harder. His black mullet fits him perfectly, and you might as well admit he is the most handsome guy you have worked with. You can’t keep your eyes off him, barely paying attention to the trailer. He would have to be blind not to notice you. 

“See? You were stunning,” he grins, turning his phone off again. You snap out of your thoughts, averting your gaze. You feel his eyes on you, swallowing a lump in your throat before you look at him again. “Can we rehearse a bit?” He asks suddenly, and you have to blink to assure yourself you aren’t just hallucinating. “Which..scene?” you ask confusedly. He smirks, pulling your chair from the table and turning it so you would face him. 

“I had a great time today,” Yeonjun recites one of his scenes. You’re too caught up in the moment to mentally go over all the scenes and figure out how your line goes, so you stay still in your place, waiting for what’s to come. He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingers softly. 

“Yeonjun,” his name falls from your lips in an instant, making the scene much more genuine than it should be. His eyes meet yours, and he leans closer to you. He whispers your name right next to your ear, sending shivers all over your body. “And then they kiss,” he continues in the script. “Right,” you mumble, but before you can say anything else, one of his hands is on your waist while the other holds your face, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Your eyes widen, your body freezing. You’re not sure what to do. A part of you wants to reciprocate the kiss, kiss him until you won’t be able to breathe anymore, but you know you shouldn’t. Still, your lips move on their own. You give in. As you close your eyes, you feel even closer to him. Just for a little bit, you tell yourself. 

Yeonjun is the first to pull away, a small smile that almost passes unnoticed by you on his lips. “And cut,” he mumbles, crushing every scenario your mind created in the short moment. “Cut,” you repeat after him, refusing to look him in the eyes. 

♡⸝⸝ 

You’ve been trying to avoid him since. You weren’t sure how long you could keep going. Every time you locked eyes with him, you could only think about the kiss. You saw him right in front of you. Every movement of his stayed in your mind, and you couldn’t seem to get it out. He was like a virus. 

“I’m coming in!” You hear your co-start behind the door, panicking immediately. You think of locking the door, but before you can get up from the floor and do so, you stumble as he opens the door and hits you. “Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He worries, running to you as if you were on the verge of dying. 

“I’m alright, it’s fine,” you assure him. “The door barely touched me.” Yeonjun sighs, shaking his head at you. You’re not sure why. “That’s good,” he slightly nods. “I wanted to check up on you. You’ve been…” he looks around as if to make sure you were the only ones in there. “Acting strange lately. Ever since the ki–” he starts, but you interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, not wanting to get reminded. “Strange? No, I haven’t been strange at all! Maybe I’m a bit worried about the rest of the filming, that’s all.” 

“Are you sure?” The anxiety in his voice breaks your heart. It destroys you because whenever he looks at you like this, so genuinely, he gives you hope. “Will you be okay during today’s interview?” Your eyes widen. Fuck. You forgot about the interview. 

“Uhm, yeah, definitely,” you nod. “Okay,” he nods too. “The director and I had talked about our promotion strategy, so I need you in the right mind.” You question him with your eyes, a wave of worry washing over you when you see him smirk. “We are going to fool the public eye,” he explains. “And pretend that we are dating. It will attract more viewers. They’ll want to know what our relationship is like behind the cameras.” 

You swear you must have hit your head when you ran here. There was no way. Absolutely not– how could you? You couldn’t play his girlfriend even if you wanted to– “I see. Okay,” you agree. Great. Just how stupid are you? “That makes sense, I guess.” 

“Okay,” he smiles at you, and for a second, you don’t regret your decision at all. “Great,” he nods. He stays still for a second afterward, and it’d be obvious to anyone that he wants to say something. He sighs, speaking his mind. “Are you sure we’re okay?” 

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, we are.” And you mean it. You’re as okay as you can be at the moment. If it stays that way once you start pretending you’re his girlfriend is a different thing. 

♡⸝⸝ 

“We actually worked on…a surprise,” Yeonjun admits, teasing one of his upcoming projects as he answers a question for the WIRED interview about how he and Soobin, one of his close friends, met. “But you will have to wait for that.” You smile, watching him talk. 

You remember the look on his face when he told you about the song they were making a few weeks ago, unable to hold back your smile. You don’t even notice him revealing another question on the board. Instead, you snap out of your thoughts when you hear him answering. 

“Ideal type…” his eyes drift to your figure, and he thinks for a second before looking back at the camera again, smirking. “I’d say it’s someone who gets me. Someone smart, who could be there for me and I could admire. Someone who gets as excited for me as if my achievement was theirs,” he smiles, your cheeks flushing red when you notice his eyes on you. “Safe answer,” you joke, trying to brush the tickling feeling in your stomach off as you avert your gaze. “Then maybe,” he starts, leaning closer. “I should use the not-so-safe answer and remind everyone what your name is.” 

You freeze, swallowing a lump in your throat. Then you remember. He doesn’t mean any of the things he says. He doesn’t like you, and you definitely aren’t his type. You bite your bottom lip, remembering his idea of this fake relationship. You knew this was coming. You didn’t expect it this soon, though. 

“Oh, come on,” you gently push him back, rolling your eyes playfully. It pains you how unreal you sound, and you’re sure anyone with eyes will see through you. Still, you don’t back down. “You’re here to promote our drama, not flirt with me,” you mumble with a smile. Yeonjun chuckles, spreading his legs apart and resting his back against the chair. “Shit,” you mumble quietly, hoping the microphone doesn’t catch your words. He is hot. Too hot. 

“I can do both, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he teases, glancing at the cameraman before his eyes land on your lips, carefully watching you. You definitely won’t be able to air this. You hesitate, rethinking if it’s worth it. They won’t air your kiss. They’ll definitely cut it out, so why bother pretending to that extent? Except maybe you aren’t pretending. You lean closer to him, catching him off guard when you connect your lips. You hear the direct cough, reminding you you’re not alone, but you don’t care. And it looks like Yeonjun doesn’t care either as he pulls you closer. 

There it is again. The weird feeling in your stomach that makes your heart skip a beat. It feels almost dangerous. The speed at which your heart is beating and the way you’re getting addicted to his lips. 

“Okay, cut the cameras!” The director interrupts you, making you giggle as you pull away from your co-star. “Keep rolling, we’ve got it,” Yeonjun laughs, throwing the board he was previously holding on the ground behind him. You laugh at him, waiting for the staff members to bring you a new board with more questions. 

The interview flows after that. Even though Yeonjun keeps flirting any chance he gets, you stop minding and get used to it. You’d dare to say you even enjoy it now. 

“That went well, don’t you think?” Yeonjun asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you leave the set. You nod, briefly glancing at him. “I’m sure your plan to make us blow up worked,” you agree. “Yeah, I’m sure it did,” he nods, stopping. You question his movements, raising an eyebrow. “But you know I’m not doing all this just to make the drama do well, right?” 

And then your heart stops completely. “What?” 

“With you, I don’t have to pretend anything,” he mumbles, taking a step closer to you. He holds your hand in his, carefully watching you. “I never had to.” You blink a few times, assuring yourself this isn’t some weird dream of yours before you open your mouth to answer. No words leave your mouth, though. You don’t know what to say. Instead, you close the gap between you, pressing your lips on his once again. “Good, I’m not sure how long I could keep pretending this is fake,” you mumble against his lips, and he wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. 

“Let’s not pretend then. Let’s make us real,” he says confidently, not letting go of you. “I want to be with you for real.”

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here !

[mixxiew]

cruise of love | hc

chapter four: a shitty first day

yn’s heart buzzed with excitement and nerves as she stepped into the classroom with her two best friends by her side, the chatter of students bouncing off the walls. the room was bright and airy, with large windows overlooking the vast ocean, the shimmering blue water reflecting sunlight into the room. It was hard to believe she was here—on a cruise ship, no less—about to start a semester of studying while traveling the world.

“yn!” jaemin waved her over from the middle row.

she weaved through the rows of students, her tote bag bumping against her hip, and after she found her seat (thankfully near him) she sat down.

giselle lets out a big groan after seeing her seat so far from her friends and so did rei, founding herself in the front seat.

yn waved while sending them kisses just to comeback to jaem.

“good morning sir” she greeted, glancing around as she pulled out her notebook. “this place is packed.”

jaemin nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “packed and full of eye candy. I already spotted someone from last night’s party.” his voice dropped to an excited whisper. “two rows ahead, three seats to the left. don’t be too obvious!”

yn tried not to laugh as she casually looked in the direction he mentioned. “the guy in the navy sweater?”

jaemin nodded dramatically, clutching his chest. “that’s him. Isn’t he so hot? I swear he smiled at me when I walked in.”

“I think he was just being polite, he looks like a puppy” Y/N teased, earning a playful shove from jaemin.

as she scanned the room, her eyes landed on a group of boys sitting near the back. on of them, a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and a shy demeanor, caught her attention. he was laughing at something one of his friends said, his smile lighting up his face.

“omg that’s the guy!” she whispered, nudging jaemin.

he followed her gaze and grinned. “the hottie on twitter? yeah i saw him earlier, he’s even hotter in person”

“very” yn admitted, her lips curving into a small smile.

her eyes probably longed too much on the boy because one of his friend spotted her and waved at her, making her blush from head to toe

before anything else could happen, the professor entered the room, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “good morning, everyone! welcome to Semester at the Sea. I’m Professor Paul, and I’ll be your instructor for Global Studies this semester.”

the room quieted as Professor Paul launched into his introduction, explaining the syllabus and what they could expect over the next few months.

yn was jotting down notes when the door suddenly swung open with a loud thud.

every head in the room turned as someone strolled in—late and completely unapologetic.

it was him.

that motherfucker.

haechan.

or whatever his ass name was.

yn’s stomach dropped. he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. he carried himself with the same effortless arrogance as before, his bag slung over one shoulder.

“ah, Mr. Lee” Professor Paul said, his tone light but teasing at the same time.

“so nice of you to join us. Were you saving the best entrance for last?”

the class erupted in laughter, but haechan didn’t seem fazed. he flashed a lazy grin.

“just wanted to make sure everyone noticed me, Professor.”

“well, congratulations. mission accomplished. now, find your seat before I start assigning essays as punishment.”

haechan chuckled, his gaze sweeping the room as he sauntered down the aisle. yn’s heart sank as she realized he was heading straight toward her row.

“please don’t let it be near me. please don’t let it be near me” she muttered under her breath.

jaemin looked at her laughing a bit.

yn know that giselle was killing him with her eyes.

just in time Professor Paul pointed to the empty seat right beside her.

“that one’s yours, Mr. Lee. take it.”

yn froze, her worst nightmare coming true in real-time.

haechan’s eyes lit up with recognition the moment he saw her. a slow, smug smile spread across his face as he slid into the seat next to hers. “well, well” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “i guess we are kinda fated at this point.”

stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “this must be my punishment for something” she muttered.

haechan chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “oh, don’t look so thrilled. i’m a great deskmate.”

she looked at my for a second before taking her attention back to the professor. “I suggest you to bring a raincoat for future classes.”

“don’t be so dramatic,” haechan said, propping his chin on his hand as he turned to face her. “you should be flattered. I don’t usually remember people.”

“oh, lucky me” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Professor Paul clapped his hands again, pulling the class’s attention back to the front. “all right, let’s focus, everyone. we’ve got a lot to cover today.”

yn tried to focus, but she could feel haechan’s gaze on her, practically boring a hole into the side of her head. finally, she turned to him, whispering harshly. “stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring” he whispered back, his lips twitching with amusement. “I’m observing.”

“same thing” she hissed.

“relax yn” he said, leaning closer. “we’ve got a whole semester together. might as well get comfortable.”

her jaw clenched as she turned back to her notebook, determined to ignore him. but the playful glint in his eyes and the smug curve of his lips told her one thing:

this was only the beginning.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

previous | masterlist | next

౨ৎauthor’s note: this is for y’all cuties a written chap bc i love them! 😁 hope y’all enjoy it!

౨ৎ taglist! @dlin3 @haechology @iamsimplyasimp @dudekiss3r @gukuwii @minhosprettywife @catpjimin @injunnie-lemon @snoopyjimin @spacejip @yewshi @delululi

[jerzwriter]

Thank you to @snoopdogcone for this prompt for @choicesprompts Angstgiving event. The prompt is highlighted in the text below.

Book: Open Heart (Book 2) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 3,363 Summary: Ethan's back from his mission in the Amazon rainforest, and it's time to face the wreckage he left behind.

A/N: Please note, this story is not part of my Ethan x Kaycee headcanon; it's part of my Casey MacTavish world where they are not end game.

@choicesmonthlychallengenov2024 - apology, regret

Casey was laser-focused on her task as she meandered through the packed maze of tables in Donahue’s beer garden. Nothing was going to come between her and her friends celebrating tonight’s victory properly, and securing a table was part of that goal. The place was packed, abuzz with the vibrant energy that seemed to define Boston during the final days of summer when the warm nights carried just a hint of the autumn breeze that would soon usher star-filled nights like this away. It seemed everyone had the same idea as they tried to soak in every last minute.

In the midst of clinking glasses, laughter, and the hum of dozens of conversations, Casey finally claimed victory. She flashed a bright smile when she spotted an empty table, waving furiously at her friends to join her. “Hurry up!! Hurry!” she beamed. “It’s almost time!”

Everyone quickly assembled, slipping onto the benches with their drinks in hand; the excitement was palpable. “Should we do a countdown first?” Elijah asked.

“Too late for that!” Casey replied. “It’s midnight!!”

 “Yeah! We made it!” Elijah howled with a raised glass. “Intern year is officially over!”

“And I say good freaking riddance!” Jackie chimed in. “We made it, and we did it with our medical licenses intact to boot!”

“Jackie!” Sienna frowned. “Don’t even joke about that! I was so scared Casey was going to have to leave Edenbrook! That’s one part of the intern year I want to forget!”

“I wouldn’t mind forgetting that part either,” Casey agreed. “But despite the low moments, I’ll still look back fondly on this year. After all, it’s when I met all of you!”

“Awww,” Sienna smiled, giving her friend a quick squeeze.

But Jackie wasn’t as moved. “How many of those have you had?” She laughed, motioning toward Casey’s empty glass.

Casey affectionately embraced her mortified friend. “Just enough to spill my emotions all over this table!”

Bryce arrived at the table and claimed the seat next to Casey, wrapping his arm around her waist as soon as he placed a fresh round of drinks on the table. “Well, it that’s where you are now, I’ll have you dancing when you finish this one.”

“As if getting me to dance is a struggle!” Casey chuckled. “But this is my last drink. I have a big day ahead!”

“Sure, rub it in!” Jackie smirked. “Now I can admit that part of me was hoping you’d lose your license because I would have swooped right in and taken your spot on the diagnostic team!”

“Not if I got to it first,” Elijah laughed, but his bright smile faltered when he glanced over Casey’s shoulder. “Speaking of the diagnostic team...” He nodded toward the entrance, and everyone’s heads turned.

Sienna looked like she saw a ghost. “Oh my gosh! He’s back!”

While her response may have been a bit dramatic for Sienna, it didn’t begin to express the turmoil stirring in Casey. The average person wouldn’t have noticed; she did her best to remain composed even as her body went rigid and her heart pounded in her chest. After two long months of absence, Ethan Ramsey was back, walking toward them like it was any other day, as if he hadn’t ripped Casey’s heart out just months before.

“He looks... different,” Sienna observed.

“Well, two months fighting an outbreak in the Amazon will do that to a person,” Jackie replied. Her eyes flickered in his direction, attempting to warn Casey that he was near.

But it was too late. He was already standing beside her, nodding a polite greeting to all, before his blue eyes locked on Casey’s for the first time since he had promised her they’d find a way to work things out.

“Rookie...” he stated, his expression unreadable.

If his presence flustered Casey, she hid it well. “You’re a bit too late for that, Dr. Ramsey,” she replied with a bravado she didn’t know she had. “As of sixty seconds ago, I’m not a rookie anymore. I’m officially a resident now.”

“Is that so?” he replied with a hint of a smile. “Then I take it you won’t be making any more rookie mistakes.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” she shrugged as her irritation began to crack her unaffected veneer. “If I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that everyone makes mistakes, world-renowned attendings included.”

The table went silent, the friends exchanging nervous looks as Sienna bit her lip. But if they were surprised by her candor, Ethan was not; it was one of the things he had come to admire in her. Clearing his throat, he replied calmly.

“I see,” he mumbled. “Well, I’ll let you and your friends get back to celebrating.”

A hush fell over the table when he turned and made his way toward the bar. Casey’s eyes followed him as her friends remained in a state of shock. Jackie was the first to break the silence. “Well, that wasn’t awkward or anything.”

Bryce tightened his grip around Casey. He knew this had to impact her more than anyone. After all, he was the one who had sat beside her night after night, listening to her cry and wiping away the tears that never seemed to stop. “Hey, are you OK?” He whispered.

Casey looked at him with a forced smile and patted his knee. “Yeah. I’m... fine.”

Sensing her friend’s discomfort, Sienna quickly steered the conversation, and the friends continued chatting as if nothing happened. But Casey couldn’t forget. Her eyes kept wandering back to the bar where Ethan sat in his usual spot – a seat so synonymous with him that it had remained conspicuously empty during his absence.

His expression was distant, and there was a heaviness to him that wasn’t there before. Even Reggie’s lively banter didn’t seem to impact his mood. He looked older... tired, as though the mission had taken more from him than anyone knew. That’s what Casey assumed it was as she looked his way. She may have been a brilliant diagnostician, but right now, her assessment couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

The night went on, and before they knew it, Reggie’s voice rang out. “Alright people! Last call. You ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here!”

“Already?” Casey groaned, her voice tightening. “No! It just hit me... I’m starting on the diagnostic team tomorrow!”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Elijah laughed as Bryce offered Casey words of reassurance. 

“Well, I’m not starting on the diagnostic team, but I still need some sustenance to get through,” Jackie announced. “You guys want to hit the diner on the way home?”

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Casey replied. “I think I’m going stay behind and touch base with Ethan about tomorrow.”

She stepped inside the bar cautiously, so quiet that Ethan didn’t notice her until she took the stool beside him. “So... that last call thing doesn’t apply to you, huh?” she asked.

He turned to her, his eyes heavy with emotion, though his voice remained light. “Reggie and I go way back. We have... an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” She half-laughed, her arm crossed protectively before her. “Is that what most people would call friendship?”

“I don’t have friends, Casey,” he stated flatly before downing the remains of his drink. “But I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you’re so inclined.”

Casey sat in stunned silence. She had pictured the moment when he would return in her head all summer long. Through the heartbreak and tears, she had practiced the words she planned to say like a mantra. She had perfected them. Each word a unique piece of ammunition designed to pierce his heart the way his silent departure had shattered hers. She had dreamed about finally having the chance to unleash her fury. Letting him know just how much damage he had done, but now, sitting beside him, the words that were in her heart and mind refused to travel to her lips.

With an inaudible sigh, she diverted her eyes. “Sure,��� was all she could manage to say.

Ethan nodded with a look of both relief and fear in his eyes. He reached over the bar and grabbed a half-empty bottle of the bar’s finest Scotch and two glasses. “Hey, Reggie,” he yelled. “We’re going to borrow this.”

“Why don’t we take this outside?” He said. “Winter will be here before you know it; we might as well enjoy it while we can.”

“Sure,” she said again, angry at herself for her inability to say more. He hurt so badly and ran off to avoid the fallout left in its wake. He deserved to hear them. Yet, here she was, rendered silent, following him like a loyal pet shadowing its master.

They settled into two chairs beside the fire pit, its flickering light casting a warm glow between them. Ethan poured two drinks, handing one to Casey. When his fingers brushed hers, the simple touch sent a jolt through both of them. Casey wanted to down her drink in one gulp. But, if she wanted to be sober for this conversation, a sip would have to do.

“You look great,” he said with a tentative smile.

“Thank you. You look... different,” she replied, taking him in.

“Different?” he asked, his smile morphing into a full grin. “Different good, or different bad?”

“Just... different.”

“Well,” he admitted with a faint chuckle. “I’ve been through quite a bit.”

“I’m sure,” she said, swirling her glass nervously. “We all have. But, it was brave of you to go on that mission.”

Ethan choked on his drink, reflecting silently for a moment. “That... that wasn’t bravery, Casey.”

The look in his eyes launched a swell of emotions in Casey: anger, sympathy, fear, pain, and mingled with something else - something she thought she already buried. No wonder she couldn’t lash out at him. She didn’t want to feel it; she didn’t want it to be there, but love was never something Casey MacTavish let go of easily. At that moment she knew, despite the anger and hurt, she knew the truth: she couldn’t pull the trigger on him if she tried.

Eventually, the reality of the situation hit her like a wave. After all this time, he was here – sitting in front of her - and she deserved answers. Her voice shook as she spoke, each word filled with pain she had been carrying.

“You left,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You left without telling me. Ethan, you didn’t say a single word.”

His expression crumbled, the weight of her accusation hitting him. He knew this confrontation was inevitable, but that did nothing to lessen its sting. Leaning forward, he braced himself; it was time to face the reckoning he always knew would come.

“Casey,” he started, his voice filled with regret. “I have no excuse to offer. I was... a coward. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran... I had to. I knew that if I saw you... if we had talked...I...” His words trailed as he turned away, unable to face the look in her eyes.

“If you came to me, you knew I wouldn’t have let you go with so much unresolved between us,” she replied. “I would have supported your choice if you wanted to go, but I wouldn’t let you use it as an excuse. I wouldn’t have let you run away. You would have had to face things... face me.”

“Yes,” he smiled sadly, “and that’s why I just... left.”

His words felt like a slap on the face. Insult added to injury. Casey was done shielding him from the damage his actions had caused. It was time for him to see it all. A bitter laugh escaped her, echoing through the empty space.

“Yes!” She shot back, her body trembling and her voice filled with rage. “You just... left. Left me! I stood in a conference room with all the other interns when Naveen announced your departure. I got to hear it like I was just anyone else... like I meant absolutely nothing to you!” She shook her head, eyes burning. “You told me we’d figure things out! You insisted we’d find a way to make it work, and I believed you! Then you were just... gone, without so much as a goodbye! Do you have any idea how much that hurt me, Ethan?”

“Casey, I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice and eyes filled with regret. “I know that was wrong. There is no excuse I can offer to make it right.”

“You knew it was wrong?” she seethed. “You knew! But then you remained silent the whole time you were gone? Two months, Ethan. Two whole months! I left you dozens of voicemails... I stopped counting how many texts I sent! Did you even listen to them? Did you hear the pain in my voice and choose to ignore me? Or did they mean so little that you just deleted them without a second thought?”

“Casey, don’t say that,” he pleaded. “Nothing you say could ever be meaningless to me.”

“Then why?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she fought back tears. “Why didn’t you contact me? You reached out to Naveen. You reached out to Harper. But me? Nothing!” She took a trembling breath. “You just ghosted me... after everything we’ve been through?”

“It’s precisely because of everything we’ve been through that I didn’t contact you,” he replied. “You know the stakes, Casey! We’re going to be working together - you’re reporting to me. Your professional development and reputation... they’re too important. You’ve worked too hard to get where you are to let it all blow up because of me. I couldn’t let whatever we had between us put you at risk.”

 “Whatever we had...” she snickered. “Past tense?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “And the past is where it needs to stay.”

Casey felt the resolve that his presence had softened returning to life inside her. It was all coming together: the sleepless nights, the heartache, hearing the whispers in Edenbrook’s halls, enduring the pitiful stares, the loneliness she felt as she picked up the shattered pieces of herself one by one without so much as a word from the man who had caused it. He owed her... he owed her better than this. She steadied herself before speaking again, her voice defiant.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she scoffed. “The past is exactly where it will remain. But do me one favor,” she asked, her vulnerability peeking through once more. “Admit what it was that we’re losing. Tell me what “it” was, Ethan! Can you at least give me that?”

He leaned back, an exasperating sigh escaping him as he focused on the bright stars sparking in the dark sky. “Casey,” he murmured, trying to find the words. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth!” she yelled. “I want you to tell me the truth! You shattered my heart, Ethan, and left me to cope with it alone. If you ever cared for me at all,  then at least have the decency to admit what it was. Don’t leave me believing I was just some... mistake... tell me! Did you... did you ever love me at all?”

Ethan turned to her, his eyes filled with a sadness he couldn’t bring himself to admit. Gently raising a hand, he tilted her chin toward him, relishing the feel of her skin against his, knowing in his heart that he’d never touch her like this again.

She couldn’t see his internal battle - a battle between the part of him that knew she deserved the truth and the part that needed to protect her... protect himself. She deserved to know that she wasn’t the only one who had spent the summer heartbroken. She deserved to know about the dozens of letters he penned, each one confessing the feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud – letters he knew he’d never send.

But what if he told her? Knowing Casey, she’d forgive him and do everything in her power to make them work, even if it meant sacrificing herself. Would she quit the diagnostic team? Leave Edenbrook? Go to a lesser program? Knowing her, she just might. She’d fought tooth and nail to get to this place in her career, and he couldn’t... he wouldn’t let her sacrifice it, not for him, and not for something as fleeting as love.

“Casey,” he finally said, his voice shaking. “Love is nothing more than proximity paired with a rush of neurochemical responses triggered by heightened stress.”

She pushed his hand away, his words cutting deeper than a knife ever could. The memory of the first time he said those words to her came rushing back. At that time, she thought it was just his cynicism talking. It was almost comical. But now? After all, they had been through... he still believed that? Had their time together taught him... nothing.

She took a deep breath as she rose to her feet; this was it, this was the end, and she could feel the sadness giving way to relief.

“Maybe that’s all love is to you,” she replied. “But that’s not all it is to me. I spent the past couple of months so hurt, so angry at you, but right now... all I can feel for you is pity. You want a reset? Ethan... there’s nothing to reset. We were over the day you stepped on that plane. I know my worth, Ethan, and I deserve so much better than this.”

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, then, standing tall, she met his eyes. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Dr. Ramsey. I look forward to working with you this year.”

And just like that, she was his colleague and nothing more. He watched her go, her silhouette framed in the soft light of the doorway, and his chest ached with the overwhelming urge to stop her, to say something, anything to pull her back. But as the door clicked shut behind her, he sank back into his chair, knowing she was right. This was the end. They were over.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, the weight of regret crushing his soul. With a deep breath, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled a weathered piece of paper, the latest in a long line of the unsent letters he wrote, and his eyes skimmed over the closing lines:

You’ll never know how much you’ve changed me, Casey. If only I had the courage to be a better man. You deserve someone who will meet you in the light instead of hiding in the shadows. I wanted to be that man for you, I did, but it’s not in me. I’ll always carry you in my heart, even though I have to let you go. I love you, Casey. Always -  Ethan.”

The paper shook in his trembling hands as he watched the flames dancing. Then, with a sharp exhale, he tossed it into the fire, watching as the edges curled and blackened before his words disintegrating into ash.

It was over. This chapter was closed.

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