#this has no business being the way that my hand insists on interpreting his face

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 5: Scared Enough

Authors Note (CW: substance abuse)

Previous chapters linked in my Masterlist

Word count: 4.6k

 The chauffeur observes you all too closely, pacing outside Dami’s dressing room. You're both waiting for him to do a final line of coke before leaving for the airport. Then he flushes everything down the toilet and scrubs out the pill case.

“Are you gonna be okay for another four hours?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be lucky if this high lasts half an hour.”

“So what do you do on airplanes?”

“Drink and suffer.” He laughs at the face you make. “I deserve it, I did this to myself.” Dami keeps that smile plastered on, but it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. He looks downward to hide it, awkwardly scuffing the end of his boot against the carpet. You sigh heavily, yearning for the right words, but being unable to find them.

“We have to leave now if we want a chance of making our flight.”

“Yeah.” Damiano essentially chain smokes all the way to the airport and refuses to eat, so you end up consuming half the pizza. He insists on carrying your bag while the valet checks his. On the walk to the gate, you trail behind Dami and tuck your hair under a beanie. Unfortunately sunglasses at night draw more attention, not less.

You make it with negative five minutes to spare; they’re already boarding business class. To avoid a disgruntled traveler filming the entitled rich couple cutting in line, you stand at the very back. The stewardess panics over the fact that first class passengers were the last to board. Damiano uses a bit of his magic to calm her and stop attracting curious glances.

“No complaints here, I promise.” He leans forward enough to just barely breach her personal space and lets his husky baritone take over. Dami has this ambiguous closed lip smile that's totally up to the eye of the beholder. Their interpretation reveals the victim’s motivations. This girl wants to fuck Dami, and you don’t blame her. In fact, she’s so taken that she can only manage a nod. 

Once out of earshot you murmur, “that poor girl.”

“What?” Damiano says under his breath.

“You know what.” He smirks and steps on to the plane. “Let's hope she doesn't fuck up some poor family’s travel itinerary while dickmatized.” Dami scoffs as he shoves your bag into the overhead compartment. 

“It’ll be fine,” he dismisses.

“Says the one without the screaming toddler and 15 hour layover.” This earns a chuckle and he gestures for you to take the window seat.

“Proximity to the bathroom is probably the best plan of action.”

“Stomach still upset?”

“I’m hoping that now it's the kind of upset that can be made better by food that way I can drink.’

“Charming. Maybe wait a bit?”

“Ah, but there's a method to this. You’ve got to start drinking preemptively, that way you’re already drunk when the time for alcohol consumption arrives.” You can tell by Dami’s delivery that he’s used this line at parties and it always landed well. When he sees your face, his confidence drifts away.

“While you're…away I’ll stop drinking, too. That way you have a sobriety buddy.”

“Mm, ‘buddy,’” he winces.

“Yes, ‘buddy.’ Until I’m confident you’re not gonna put your ass in a coma, again. And then some.” 

“Fair, that’s fair.” He puts his hands up in surrender. Damiano leans his head back against the seat and exhales heavily. The sound of the pilot's voice on the intercom makes him startle.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Out of habit you rub his leg, then realize that rubbing his arm is much more platonic, albeit awkward. You decide that the middle ground is petting his hair. The buzzcut is surprisingly soft under your fingers.

“Will you grow it out while you’re there?”

“Do you want me to?” He turns his head to look at you, eyebrow raised. Suddenly, making requests about his appearance has much more significance than it did a moment ago.

“Yes,” you answer timidly.

“Then I’ll grow it out.” It's the most tense airplane ride of your life. You’re trying to monitor how hard Damiano’s crashing, while realizing you have no actual experience with cocaine or withdrawals. What do you look for and how do you look for it without him noticing? One fact is abundantly clear, whether you catch his symptoms or not, there isn’t jack shit you can do about them. 

Soon after the plane has leveled out, he gets jumpy. A cough or the ding of the seatbelt light spook Dami so severely that he has to catch his breath. He starts craning  his neck, looking around at the rest of the plane. Eventually he leans all the way out into the aisle then snaps upright, gluing his back to the seat like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“I feel like people are filming me.”

“Lets trade seats.” While switching places, you scan the plane for phones. Everyone in first class is laying down except for one woman reading an article on her computer. There's an opaque, closed curtain between first class and business class. The pattern is gaudy, mustard yellow and cobalt blue. Realistically, the only people that could film Dami were those walking up the currently empty aisle or fatigued stewardesses who would be fired for the transgression.

“No one's filming, you’re good. They’re mostly sleeping.” A bored flight attendant infers your concern and hangs a temporary privacy curtain on two small hooks. Damiano orders a mini charcuterie board and two shots of whiskey.

“They’re still filming me,” he hisses, slouching down in his chair. The plane is dark, so you search for the bright light of a camera flash and see nothing.

“Dam, I’m positive no one is filming. If they were, they couldn’t catch anything.” The flight attendant returns with his order and a payment terminal.

“Oh, and two bottles of water please.” You reach down for your purse, but Dami bats your hands away.

“I –”

“No. Do you want anything else?”

“I’m good.” He gives you a dirty look. “I ate your dinner on the drive to the airport.” Dami lets this slide and passes her his debit card. Already knowing that the beep is gonna make him jump, you take your hand in his and whisper, “gonna be a noise. Deep breath.” Dami keeps hold of your hand, even as the stewardess passes his card back, even as he puts it back in his wallet, even as he shoves his wallet into the pocket of his hoodie. Then he leans over and presses his forehead to your temple and all you can think is thank god he’ll be in a secure facility. Because nothing short of that could keep you from throwing your morals to the wind and rechristening your once shared bed.

“It was Aimee, the girl who’s roommate I started – I first did H with.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“But I broke my promise,” his voice wavers, barely audible. “At first it was celebrating the new contract, but then I couldn’t stop. I thought I wouldn’t need any of it, once SME let up. Like I’d forced their hand and the drugs had just been a tool to get my way. I wasn’t an addict.” You push the armrest up, undo your seatbelt, and turn to hug him. “My quality of life is better, but I still needed all this shit to alter my perception so I could exist. In my mind it was strictly a causal relationship. That was fucking delusional.”

“No it wasn’t.” Damiano cries against the shoulder of your sweater and you rub his back.

“I’m so fucking scared,’ he confesses. “I thought I had control so it was like the floor disappearing out from under me. Months of rationalizations built on a lie and I was just falling and it still feels like I’m falling.”

“I’ve got you.”

“That fucking feeling is the reason I don’t go on rollercoasters and now I get to feel it all the time, how painfully ironic is that?”

“Fate has a really twisted sense of irony.”

“The world is punishing me and I deserve it.” You pull back and cup Dami’s colorless face in your hands.

“No you don’t,” you emphasize, brushing tears away with your thumbs. “Thinking you deserve pain, that's the reason it's so hard for you to quit, because you can’t bear to be alone with yourself. I love being alone with you. Dami, you are a beautiful person.” He kisses you, and really you shouldn’t have expected anything else. The responsible thing would be to pull away and gently reestablish a boundary, but you’ve been craving this so hard. Five seconds, that’s the amount of time you allow.

In those five seconds, you kiss back with equal vigor. The hands cupping Damiano’s face end up extended behind his head. With elbows out of the way, you can press your torso against his while Dami pulls you close, then closer still. His tongue has just found yours when times up. Unfortunately, you don’t have the discipline to wrench yourself away and instead pull back slowly. Damiano responds by trying to haul you into his lap, but you make a noise of dissent. There's a chaste goodbye kiss and a sexually-charged disentangling of bodies. 

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it's uh…” Not out of my system by any measurement.

“It’s just that, um –”

“Mhm”

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh, no sorry I didn’t –”

“No, you go first.”

“Saying anything.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything, sorry.”

“Oh..okay.”

“What were you saying?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like a second ago, you were saying something before I interrupted you.”

“Oh, I was just gonna say that…five months – well, it's almost been five months – is a lot of time.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Yeah…since the breakup.”

“Since we last made lo – the breakup. Since we made the break up.”

“Also since we last made love,” you smirk. You hold eye contact, just like you’ve been all day, but this time there's heat behind it. Damiano’s eyes fall to your lips and he leans in again. You hold up a hand to stop him while grimacing. 

“I’m sorry, this is my fault. I’ve been giving you mixed signals, acting like we’re still in a relationship physicality-wise while saying we have to keep our distance for now. I’m just so used to comforting you through touch and I have no idea where the line is to be honest.”

“Sometimes touch is the only thing that is comforting, especially yours.”

“I’m just a physically affectionate person, like I need human contact to feel grounded.”

“I know,” he empathizes emotionally.

“So I’m not good at this,” you admit. “But I wanna be, it’s just…” you sigh while staring at the 80s patterned carpet.

“What?”

“I think if we’re physical my body will forget that we’re broken up. My mind will know, but I think I’ll still feel heartbroken if you aren’t there.”

“Baby, no,” he coos.

“I can’t go through it again and still be the support you need me to be and that I want to be. The affection…for lack of a better word, withdrawals were…rough. But I don’t want to act like strangers either. Like this,” you lace your fingers together, “should be fine, right?”

“Yeah,” Damiano murmurs, but his eyes say so much more.

“So I just have to do my best to keep it at this.” You squeeze down simultaneously, all too easily falling into rhythm with each other. “And ignore the part of my brain that tells me to crawl into your lap, take off all my clothes, and give you a bath with my tongue.” Damiano’s eyes go wide and he blinks a couple times in quick succession. 

“Sorry, that was a little graphic.”

“Actually I’m mentally bookmarking that image for tomorrow afternoon.”

“That's when things will get ugly?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’ve never detoxed from H before, but they have medication to help with that.” He’s visibly nervous and sweating. Damiano opens the shot with one hand and his teeth, then knocks it back. You set a bottle of water on his tray in response. He drinks a quarter of that, which you're feeling good about until he takes the second shot.

“Eat something or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“I know,” he retorts, annoyed. To be fair, Damiano does know a lot more about substances and how they combine than you do. As he’s eating, Dami looks at the row behind us through the crack between the seats. Finally, you recognize it as paranoia.

“I’ll check for phones again, you just keep eating.” The woman on her computer is now working on a spreadsheet and the person directly behind Damiano is watching Casablanca on his phone. Definitely not the Maneskin demographic. Beyond first class, even more passengers are dozing and there's not a single flash from a phone camera. 

“Still no one.” The guy behind us is watching a movie in black and white, so I seriously doubt he knows who you are.” 

“Fine,” Dami concedes, still on edge. He orders two more shots and you haven’t seen him consume alcohol like this since he was a teenager. Sure, he’d have four drinks at an egregiously long event, but shots of crappy whiskey in quick succession was a different behavior entirely. He unclasps his hand and excuses himself to the bathroom. It’s so casual that you can’t ascertain why. When Damiano returns, he doesn’t take your hand again, so you pretend to be on your phone.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all good.” If you weren’t broken up, you’d fling your legs over his lap and coax him to look at you. If you weren’t broken up, he’d stroke your hair and tuck it behind your ears. Then he’d massage the shell of your ear. If you weren’t broken up, you’d press your foreheads together and Dami would say everything he meant with his expression. Totally vulnerable, he’d confess his thoughts in a whisper, wrapping an arm around your waist. If you weren’t broken up, you’d know details he’d never disclose to anyone else. The emotional intimacy would throb with the beat of your heart. You’d become so accustomed to having your person, and the total vulnerability which accompanied that.  

But you were broken up, so you sat in silence. By the time the place descends, Dami is visibly uncomfortable in his own skin. He has no patience, glowering at the passengers around him. At first the lights coming on is the problem, then the ding of the seatbelt warning, then the way the pilot is descending.

“I need to be off this motherfucking plane,” he hisses. He yanks down the privacy curtain then complains how exposed first class is. You just listen to him and don’t comment. Luckily, the flight attendant allows the both of you off first. This time you carry your own bag until that pisses Dami off too and he lugs it over his shoulder with a scowl.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” he announces, when you arrive at baggage claim. You grab his hand and point to the family bathroom.

“Use that.”

“Why?” he bites. “Why can’t I use a normal fucking bathroom.” You scowl right back.

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot. Because you could ask someone for drugs, or sneak away, or refuse to get in the car. I am far too tired to deal with that shit.” He rolls his eyes, sighs loudly, and heeds your request. Five years of dealing with his mood swings had prepared you for this like none other.

The chauffeur finds you, then finds Dami’s bag, all while he’s still in the bathroom. Had he somehow gotten his hands on something? You’d been with him the whole time. After ten minutes you knock on the door.

“You alive?” He undoes the lock and you slip inside. Dami is bent over the sink with his face in his hands.

“I’m not gonna survive the drive there.” He takes a shaky breath in and sobs. “And I can’t detox from both simultaneously, so don’t fucking asking me to. I want to go home!” 

 “Damiano, in five months you have been hospitalized four times for your substance abuse. You’ve been in a coma. You’ve started taking two of the hardest drugs known to man. You’ve been one modicum of self-control away from doing crack. You’ve poisoned your body to the point that it can’t retain food or liquids. You are going to die.” He looks up in shock. “You are going to die unless you get sober and if I take you home with me, you are gonna do it in our apartment.” There's a long silence where Damiano opens and closes his mouth a couple times, then swallows hard.

“I’ve never experienced physical withdrawal symptoms like I’m about to. I’m…I’m not – I mean, I can’t.”

“You only have to do it once and this is the easiest it's ever gonna be. I know you’re brave enough.”

“You know fuck all!” he lashes out. “It’s not about bravery or some positive affirmation bullshit.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand and I know you hate me right now.”

“I don’t hate you,” he grumbles, standing upright. 

“What you’re feeling is a result of withdrawals. That doesn’t invalidate your emotions, it just means that this particular brand of shitty is very temporary.” Damiano nods and washes his face, beginning to regulate. “That also means that your perception is skewed. The world isn’t nearly as horrible as your brain chemistry is fooling you into believing.

“Okay,” he sniffs. Then he repeats himself with certainty. “Okay. I’m gonna do this. I’ll be okay.” On the walk to the car you trail behind him again, prepared to catch Damiano if he makes a run for it. Once everything is in the Sudan you relax, but Dami has his hands balled into fists as you turn out of the airport.

“Just 40 minutes” you remind him. “Less since there's no traffic right now.” 

“Partition, please,” Dami requests, creating privacy behind the tinted windows. Barely perceptible is the sound of a small motor as the driver rolls up the partition between himself and the backseat.

“You wanna lay down with your head on my lap?” He nods and undoes the seatbelt, curling his body to fit in the small space. As soon as your hand makes contact, Dami begins crying. For the first time in a long time, he allows himself to be exposed, to be truly seen. It's the part of him that used to ask for French braids. He’d never actually wear them in public, but loved the sensation. It was the part of him  that got genuinely nervous about you enjoying a family recipe. The part that could relax and receive when you fingered him with two digits.The part that lay with Princess on his bare chest because he liked the way her fur felt.

“I don’t want to be alone with myself,” Dami confesses. “I can’t remember the last time I liked that person. Fuck, I’m starting to hate my own stage persona.”

“Front men are supposed to be obnoxious to non-fans. If you were likable to the previous generation of rock listeners, you wouldn’t be rock and roll.” 

“Maybe I’m a shitty musician.”

“Someone could justify that statement about most rockstars.” 

“Every tour, every album, every new fucking setlist, I watch the power trio get more talented and I just say the same.”

“That’s objectively not true, but I know I can’t convince you of that today.”

“I should take vocal lessons.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Suddenly he’s abrasive.

“Because it will make you feel more productive and more confident. It could also help the longevity of your voice.”

“Oh.” He settles and allows you to stroke his head. “Why is it so quiet?” he gripes.

“Could you roll down the partition and hand me the aux, please?” Leaning over to dig your phone out of your purse also results in Dami getting a face full of your boobs. He seems to be in better spirits afterwards.

“This band is called Snowy Dunes. It’s bluesy hard rock, I think you’ll really like it.”

‘“That's not what I’ve been listening to lately, but sure.”

“Crotchety old man.” Damiano does, in fact, keep his head on your lap the whole way there. There’s two fences, the first with an attendant and the second with an intercom. The security level seems to pacify Dami.

“Just stay in the car, please. I’ll get it,” he says to the valet. You hop out as he pulls his suitcase from the trunk. It’s the very beginning of dawn, when the world is painted in a deep blue light and the birds start to chirp. The facility is just as beautiful as you expected, well manicured trees barely visible and a grand entrance with double doors. The care idles, red taillights ominously hitting the octagon cement tiles. You take Dami’s hand and walk him inside.

“And I thought the other places I’ve been to were nice,” he murmurs.

“Remember that you put yourself on the waiting list three months ago.” He chuckles, before speaking on another intercom.Theres a clicking sound and the left door opens automatically.

“Hey there, we only keep this entrance locked at night,” is the first thing a staff member says. “Are you Damiano?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looks at you, almost overwhelmed with the urge to run.

“I’m y/n, I spoke with you earlier.” You drag him inside and use your free hand to greet someone in a white uniform.

“A little apprehension is normal. Or a lot.”

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asks curtly. 

“Right through here,” responds who you now assume to be an orderly. He leads Dami around a corner and follows him inside.

“Hi there, would you mind if I ask you a couple questions?” A newly appeared nurse seats herself behind a counter on the other side of the hall. The lights were almost as low inside as they were outside.

“Oh, uh yeah! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. And uh, he doesn’t have anything on him. We just traveled through two of the biggest airports in Europe. His stomach has just been upset from y’know…”

“Right, of course,” she responds with genuine sympathy. Now you feel better about leaving him here. “I’ll say goodbye and get out of your hair as soon as he’s back.”

“What's your relationship to Damiano?”

“Well, I was his girlfriend for five and a half years.”

“Woah, five years is a lot in your early twenties.”

“Yeah…but we broke up, because of the…addiction issues. Plus the fame makes things…it makes them complicated.” What you really meant is that global popularity is so intrusive that vital aspects of a relationship go unattended because there's simply no room. She nods like this is something they see daily.

“Do you know what he’s taken in the past 24 hours?”

“Cocaine, uh alcohol, and maybe heroin, I don’t know. He smokes weed and rolled tobacco, plus normal cigarettes.” There's not an ounce of surprise or judgment. She enters the information into the computer like it's the weather report.

“Crack cocaine?”

“No.”

“Okay.” The clicks of the laptop seem loud, but maybe that's because the world around you is so silent.

“He only started using heroin regularly three weeks ago. I don’t know if that matters.” You feel defensive of Dami, then like an dumbass because you were standing in rehab for fuck’s sake. Anxious, you look over your shoulder.

“Do you know when the last time he used heroin was?”

“No.”

“Do you know how he’s ingesting it?”

“No.”

“And do you know what type of heroin he’s using?”

“Um, no. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” she reassures. “We’re just happy to have a little extra information if you’re able to provide it. Do you know when he last ingested cocaine?”

“Four hours ago.”

“Alright. Do you have payment information? It looks like his intake fee has already been paid.”

“Yeah, that was me.” While you were dating, Damiano paid rent and you paid utilities. It was far from equatable, but you made a lot less and he insisted. Post breakup, you found out that a spacious apartment in Rome with private parking was even more exorbitantly priced than he’d led you to believe. So you’d called your landlord to clarify a move out date and were informed that in addition to taking himself off the lease as agreed, he’d paid out the two year contract in its entirety. If you were to move out, the remainder of the money would be yours. 

Subsequently, you decided to stay in that absolutely gorgeous apartment, right up until you needed the money for something. After thoroughly guilt tripping your landlord, he gave you half of the remaining lease payment, which you used for application fees and to eventually secure a spot at rehab for Dami. It was, after all, a totally ridiculous amount for him to essentially give you, with no way of rejecting or returning it.

“I’m not sure if his label is gonna pay directly or reimburse him or what.”

“Alright, so I’ll just collect that information later.” She looks up from her computer screen. “The important thing is that you got him here.” You bite the inside of your lip to suppress the urge to cry. No doubt you were gonna end up lying in a pool of your own tears and snot later today, but if you started now saying goodbye would be very ugly.

“How much pain is he gonna be in?” Before she can answer, there's two sets of footsteps behind you.

“No windows?”

“Not ones that I could reach.”

“If you were the proper height for a basketball player…”

“Oh, shut up,” he jokes (mostly). “So which one of you is gonna tear apart all my belongings like a racoon in a dumpster?”

“Damiano!” You’re laughing too hard to reprimand him, as are the two staff members.

“They’re gonna throw out my 70€ shampoo!”

“You don’t have hair!”

“That’s true,” he smiles, rubbing his buzz cut. This was so like him, rallying at the end so you could leave in good spirits. He was trying to spare you some anguish. It also meant he’d decided to commit.

“We actually have storage lockers for this very reason. Once we feel confident, you can have your shampoo back,” reassures the nurse. “Do you have a form of ID you can show me?”

“Uh, yeah.” His voice wavers ever so slightly. Next he signs a release to provide treatment.

“Looks like you’re all checked in,” she announces in a cheery voice. It's your cue to leave. Both staff members find a reason to look away so you have a moment of semi-privacy. It becomes apparent that your tears won’t wait for a more convenient moment. So you hug him to give yourself a tiny bit of grace to wrangle your emotions. 

“Are you crying?”

“Yes.” The hug isn’t platonic at all, with your arms thrown around his neck and his dangerously low on your back. Body to body, standing with your feet between Dami’s, any closeness that can be acceptably achieved in public has been.

“I’m so angry with the world that you have to deal with this and I’m –” You take a steadying deep breath. “I’m so fucking proud of you and for facing it an – and grateful.”

“Even though it scares me shitless?”

“Especially because it scares you shitless.”

“I love you.” He whispers it right in your ear and kisses your temple

“I love you, too,” you hiccup.

“Give Princess a kiss for me.” He pulls away, takes a step back, then another, and he’s gone without ever meeting your eyes. Seeing as they have actual patients to care for, you drag yourself back to the SUV. Then you cry so hard that the chauffeur stops at his brother’s gelato shop on the way home. 

Notes: Well if it isn't some more nice, light reading from your gal FilthforFriends!

@surelyfreedombound @shinshans @lonnybunnys @davianos-blog @hauntedpostpersona @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx @harryssshouseee @slavicgoddess13 @persona1read1ng @katyldamusic @whore4damia @the-chaotic-cow @icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk @elvirabelle @bright-shiningstar @maneslut @stardustingold @little-moonbeam-666 @que--sera--sera @ami--gami

[archivistmia]

FFXIVWRITE2023

Day 1: Envoy

Amaurot, Hyth, AmaurotOC

Noun

a messenger or representative, especially one on a diplomatic mission.

“Theia! Back from your delivery?” Turning around at the call, Theia smiled shyly at her many-times-boss. “Yes, Hythlodaeus, the Speakers office was near empty today.” Despite having only held her position as one of many Envoys to the Bureau of the Architect for a few scant weeks, she had already heard - and seen - many good things about its Chief. Not the least of which was his insistence on knowing all his employees - or those like her who frequently had business at the Bureau - by name and face.

“Wonders do never cease.” The corners of Hythlodaeus’ lips pull up into a kind smile at his words, inviting her to share the joke with him. Snickering slightly she waits for him to join her in the elevator. “It seems so, at least.” She hesitates for only a moment before ploughing on. No matter how nice he was, surely he didn’t hold her back purely to chat? “Did you need something delivered, Chief?”

For a moment Hythlodaeus’ aether Flimmers und that way she had come to interpret as surprise before it settles back into its usual content movements. “Oh no, I don’t intend to jump the queue, I simply thought taking the elevator together is better than taking it alone, no?”

Theia wants to shrug, she has spend as much if not less of her childhood in the company of others as she has alone, and thus being by herself is not the threat to one’s mind it seems to be for everyone else, but the time she has spent with others has taught her such honest observations usually aren’t appreciated. “Of course, of course.” She replies instead, hoping the non answer is what he is acceptable. “Have you had any interesting requests today, Chief?”

She asks, having already found out that he received the weirdest or most complex submissions, or those from highly ranked individuals. And that he loved talking about them with anyone who would listen. “Oh yes, it seems we have another shark season starting. Why just today I found four of the things submitted for my approval!”

Theia clutches the letters she has picked up at the Speakers office to her chest as she listens to him ramble about the latest fad for sharks - multiple heads, apparently. “You know,” he cuts himself of suddenly and she blinks and pulls back in surprise, “you don’t have to listen to me ramble just because I’m a Chief, right?”

Blinking up at him it takes her a second to understand what he’s saying, red rushing to her cheeks as she pulls a letter from her aether inventory she always keeps with her. Taking a deep breath she holds it out for his perusal, the blush on her cheeks only darkening. “I really enjoy your tangents.” She admits quietly. A small, genuine smile has stolen on his lips as he hands her back the letter.

The elevator stops on the floor she needs and she skirts around him, cheeks still aflame. “Have a nice afternoon, Chief.” She says as the doors close behind her. “I stand by what I said, you know?” He calls as the doors close fully. For a moment she stands there and caresses the decade old letter. ‘… I’m sure you can achieve whatever you have put your mind to.’ He had written in answer to a little girl asking him if she really had to make concepts or if she could turn her love for moving into something to give back to Amaurot.

Lips still curled up into a smile, Theia ticks away the letter addressed to her younger self and moves. The work of an Envoy is never done.

[lunapwrites]

Me: I'm going to draw Remus so fucking normal.

Also me: [proceeds to draw him looking like he's channelling Sirius.]

Me [sobbing/laughing/losing my mind]: so fucking normal.

No but seriously I have no idea why I keep doing this. Part of my issue is that at least in the LTL verse I HC him as having a really awkward big-bones-no-meat build and having hair that is actually quite nice, if a little frizzy, but it's long enough and not-curly enough that he can make it work. like he's supposed to be vaguely cute when he actually lets his guard down around you but also vaguely intimidating when he tries with this RBF that does not quit and like. super heavy brows that take effort to not be like >:| But this??? THIS????

WHO ARE YOU. WHY ARE YOU HOT. STOP IT.

all that happened was I decided "you know what? let's have him not tuck his hair behind his ear on the one side, that can't possibly make that big a diff-- I HAVE MADE A MISTAKE."

in the immortal words of Gaius van Baelsar: sUcH dEvAsTaTiOn! ThIs WaS nOt My InTeNtIoN!

if you'll excuse me i'll be having an existential crisis and doubting every artistic decision i have ever made in my life.

[babyboiboyega]

Enough (Shangqi x f!reader)

Shangqi x f!reader

Content: a little bit of angst, fluff at the end, Shangqi being such a damn sweetheart

Word Count: 1.3k

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

*********

Y/N’s movements were a little slower than usual as she dodged, kicked, and punched, and it was obvious, especially to her. It was obvious, and it frustrated her to no end as she continued to move around the mat. 

The slight throbbing in her temple she had woken up with had only gotten worse as the day went on, and it continued to do so the more she exerted herself. 

She tried to hide the pain behind a grimace, but under the guise of being focused, but she had a slight suspicion that he could see right through her. This only prompted her to intensify her actions, trying to come off as fine when in reality, the pressure in her head was close to debilitating. 

She knew that she should have stopped and told him what was wrong, but the stubborn, reckless side of her won out. And that was exactly what she was doing: being incredibly reckless. 

A grunt left her mouth as she was pushed back, her feet stumbling over each other.

“Y/N, what’s going on with you tonight? You’re a little slower than usual.”

Shangqi’s voice rang out, a teasing lilt to it as he gazed at her with his hands on his hips. His eyebrows were furrowed in genuine worry as she bent at the waist, bracing herself against her knees. 

With every breath she took came another painful throb in her temple, and even with her eyes squeezed shut, she could feel her head spinning. 

Hearing her labored breaths and noticing her silence, Shangqi walked closer, the small smile on his face dropping.

“Hey, what’s wrong? We can take a break. We should take a break.”

At his words, Y/N shook her head slowly before straightening. The wince that she tried to hide did not go unnoticed. 

“I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

Shangqi’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed slightly, this time with suspicion. 

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with taking a break. Maybe get a sip of water-”

“I’m fine, Shangqi, okay? I’m...I’m good.”

The conviction in her voice was enough for him to slowly nod his head before taking stance. His eyes watched her carefully as she did the same, and once he was satisfied that she was ready, he resumed their dance around each other.

He threw easily avoidable hits while still watching the way she reacted. Her eyebrows were pinched in concentration as she blocked his hits, her feet moving in the way he had taught her. 

For a brief moment, she felt pride and forgot about the pain that gripped her head. All of the sparring lessons were culminating into something she was proud of. 

But then Shangqi had to throw a punch while simultaneously going for her exposed bottom half. 

She had managed to block the hit, but she had been too oblivious of her open leg area.

Y/N felt herself falling and managed to right her foot enough to where her impact with the mat was more controlled. An almost embarrassing “oof” fell from her lips as she quite literally landed on her ass.  

It only took a few seconds for Shangqi to approach her, his hand held out to help her up. 

“We’re taking a break. I’ll go get your water.”

The finality of his words paired with her own frustration resulted in a pang of anger quickly running through her. 

She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up quickly, her mouth forming words of insistence that only dissipated as black spots crowded her vision. 

She rapidly blinked her eyes, but only seemed to make it worse. The pain in her head had decided to make itself known once again, and it came with a vengeance. 

This time, she couldn’t stop the small groan from escaping her mouth as her hand raised and gripped her head. 

The pain was unbearable now, akin to having one’s head slammed into a metal pole without the relief of eventually passing out. She could feel the throbbing at the base of her neck, and the pain had started to make her stomach churn. 

She should have listened to him. She should have stopped earlier.

Y/N hadn’t realized that she was swaying, leaning a little too far in one direction, until she felt soft, calloused hands land on her arms. 

“Y/N...Y/N, talk to me. What’s going on?”

As she spoke, Shangqi gently guided her down until she was safely kneeling on the floor, no longer swaying on her feet. He wasted no time in kneeling in front of her, his hands moving to cup her face.

“Come on, take deep breaths. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Y/N spoke quietly and through clenched teeth, her hand continuing to put pressure against her temple.

“Migraine.”

The sigh that left Shangqi’s mouth was sympathetic as he rubbed her cheek. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead before slowly rising and bringing her with him.

He had no trouble supporting her weight as he led her in the direction of his room, leaving the open space behind them.

In reality, it had only taken a minute or so to get to Shangqi’s room, but every step had felt like 10 to Y/N. She was acutely aware of Shangqi turning off every light as they walked, and if she weren’t so busy making sure her lunch stayed down, she would have expressed her love and gratitude for his actions. 

She simply let Shangqi guide her to wherever she needed to go, knowing and trusting without a doubt that he would take care of her. 

He only proceeded to prove her right as he wasted no time in walking her towards his bed and gently lowering her onto it. As soon as she was situated, he quietly walked around the bed and turned off every remaining light, the tv, and even closed the blinds.

In only a span of a few seconds, he had grabbed a glass of water and the medicine she had left at his place for a situation exactly like this. 

“Y/N, here’s your medicine. Come on, babe. I just need you to take this real quick.”

With an agonized groan and her eyes still tightly shut, Y/N slowly sat up. Her hands blindly reached out, prompting Shangqi to drop her pill into her hand followed by the glass of water. She took the medicine quickly and without hesitation, before holding it out once more. 

Shangqi’s hands shot out, one grabbing the glass while the other gently landed on her back, keeping her from laying back down.

A noise between a soft cry and a groan left Y/N’s mouth at being stopped, but the slight annoyance she had quickly dissipated as Shangqi gently crawled into bed in front of her. 

All while whispering apologies to her, he maneuvered their bodies to where they could lay down with Y/N completely covering his body with her own. 

There had been a question on the tip of her tongue as he had moved them, but it all made sense when his hands raised and started massaging her temples, gingerly but with enough pressure to ease the pain. 

She felt his lips touch her hair, and it made a lone tear slip from her tear line. The tears that formed as a result of pain only fell as a result of being cared and loved for.

But Shangqi had interpreted the new tear stain on his shirt as one of pain. He spoke softly with his lips pressed to her head. 

“I know. I know, I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

His words made her arms tighten where they were wound around his torso. As she spoke, more tears fell from her eyes.

“You do more than enough, Shangqi. You’re more than enough.”

********

I hope you all enjoyed this! Like I said, this is a comfort fic that I really wrote for myself, but decided to post it here! I do deal with chronic migraines, and with every migraine comes a great disdain for everyone in the immediate vicinity....but I just KNOW that Shangqi would do anything to help me feel better, so I wanted to write it!

This week has been reaaaalllyy tough so far between work, class, and personal issues, so that’s another reason why this is a comfort fic, it helped me escape life while I was writing. 

But once again, I hope you all enjoyed this! Please like, reblog, and/or leave a comment. Literally whenever someone leaves a comment, it makes my day!

OH! I’m also thinking about making a tag list! 👀👀

Stay safe, y’all!

[venusiangguk]

hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty...  that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat​ for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

 “So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…” 

 Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

 “I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

 You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

 “It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed. 

 Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

 You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

 You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him. 

 “It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

 “Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

 “Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

 When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

 Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

 You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong. 

 “I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

 You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that. 

 You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

 This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

 His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

 Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

 “No!” You squeak.

 “You can touch yourself,” He offers.

 “No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

 He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

 Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

 When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other. 

 “You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

 You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

 Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

 He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

 Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

 You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

 “Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan. 

 You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

 “S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

 You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

 Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

 Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing. 

 “Close,” He whispers.

 Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room. 

 He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

 “Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window. 

 You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

 You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

 He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

 You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

 “Please,” He whines.

 His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

 He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly. 

 His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

 “Um.” You say eloquently.

 “Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

 “Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

 “Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is. 

 You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

 “I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

 With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

 “I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

 “Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

 The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.” 

 “Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy. 

 You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

[blackkatmagic]

Could I please request a drabble with Mace meeting Jaster? Time travel shenanigans would be loved and heart-eyed, but are not required.

“A Jedi is hiring a Mandalorian for a job?” Jaster asks, one brow raised, and can't help the thread of incredulity that creeps into his voice. “Perhaps you're confused, Jetii, but our people have been enemies for millennia.”

“I'm well aware,” the Jedi says, unmoving. Jaster has, admittedly, never been quite this close to a Jedi, and he can't help but be faintly impressed at the man’s stoneface, particularly given the bright-eyed Chalactan girl peering around his side. Her hands are hooked into his sash without any apparent fear of being shaken off, or any apparent concern for her Master’s dignity, and Jaster finds himself reluctantly amused despite the man’s temerity.

“Oh?” Jaster asks, leaning back in his chair. His blaster is within easy reach, and the Jedi is far enough away that Jaster has the advantage. “Bold of you to approach me with a job offer, then.”

“Is it?” the man asks, and reaches up, folding his hood back. Jaster stills, startled, because he hadn’t thought there were Korun Jedi—Myles has always been very insistent that the Korun people have their own Force traditions, and outsiders aren’t welcome to step into them. He’s a handsome one, too, tall and broad shouldered, with a lean strength to him that even the loose, comfortable robes can't hide. Steady, he meets Jaster's eyes, and says, low, “It seems to me, Mand’alor, that our status as enemies means no one will suspect me of having hired you.”

Ah, Jaster thinks, smiling. Like that, is it. He hums, then says, “Jango, who don’t you show this lovely padawan the gardens? I'm sure she would like to see them.”

“What?” Jango demands, outraged the way only a fourteen-year-old can be. “Buir, I'm not leaving—”

Jaster levels a pointed look at his son, and his mouth snaps shut. He scowls, deep and affronted, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be meeting with a Jedi alone,” he says grumpily. “Myles is going to yell at you.”

“Myles will survive,” Jaster says, though it’s likely true. “Master Jedi, I hope you don’t object to speaking privately.”

“Of course not,” the Jedi says, perfectly calm, and glances down at his padawan. “Depa. Be polite.”

That is, Jaster reflects wryly, an incrediblyfamiliar tone of voice. He’s willing to bet the girl gets herself into almost as much trouble as Jango, given how practiced it sounds.

And, on cue, the girl beams up at her Master without hesitation. “I'm always polite, Master Mace,” she protests, perfectly, wickedly innocent. Mace doesn’t answer, just sighs, and Depa laughs, rising up on her tiptoes. She hauls him down, no thought given to dignity, and plants a loud, showy kiss on his cheek, then hops back two steps and turns that smile on Jango, who freezes like he was just dipped in carbonite, his eyes going wide.

She is, Jaster thinks with amusement, a very pretty girl. He wonders how quickly Jango will manage to stick his foot in his mouth this time. Within ten minutes, judging by last time. Jaster doesn’t precisely have high hopes for their interaction, but at least this isn't the daughter of a high-profile client that Jango is going to offend. The Jedi needs them, not the other way around, and given Jedi morals, he likely won't turn to the Death Watch the instant he’s insulted.

“Depa,” Mace says, a warning, but Depa ignores it, grinning at Jango and folding her hands behind her.

“I would love to see the garden,” she says cheerfully. “Jango, was it?”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, only a little mulishly, and takes a careful step forward, like he’s worried she’s going to bite him. “It’s this way, I guess.”

He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried. Jaster rather suspects he is.

As the door slides shut behind their two witnesses, though, Jaster's amusement fades slightly, and he turns his gaze on Mace, narrow and thoughtful as he considers the man, his presence on Mandalore, the quiet, entirely understated way he arrived.

“This isn't a mission from the Jedi Order,” he says, weighing. “I might even go so far as to say they have no idea of your presence here.”

“They don’t,” Mace says bluntly. “I'm here on my own business, and acting on information the Jedi Council isn't privy to.” There's a pause, and then a rueful curve just touches one corner of his mouth. “Believe me, Mand’alor. I do not go behind the Council’s back easily. This is vital, and I'm willing to provide the funds to prove it.”

Jaster smiles, a little humorless, a little thin. He’s not fond of being played, and this sounds very much like Mace is trying. “I have plenty of credits, Master Jedi. Why should I find yours any more appealing than anyone else’s?”

Mace doesn’t hesitate this time, just raises his chin. “Because I have something that is far more valuable than credits,” he says calmly. “I can provide you with information.”

It is, Jaster will admit, a tempting prospect, but he’s still wary. “Jedi information? Access to the Archives, perhaps? If I wanted dry Jedi tomes on political law—”

“No,” Mace interrupts, flat, and takes two steps forward, until he’s right across Jaster's desk. “Far more important and immediate information. Such as the name of the traitor who will kill you. And the location of Jango Fett's older sister.”

Jaster freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Arla was gone by the time he’d made it back to the Fett homestead on Concord Dawn, and no trace of her has ever surfaced. Jaster has been looking, because Jango speaks of her endlessly, but—

“That,” he rasps, voice half-caught in his throat, “could be considered blackmail, Master Jedi.”

Mace tips his head. “Proof of my desperation,” he says, and there's no self-consciousness to it, just blunt honesty. A pause, and then he says, faintly rueful, “I’ll give you her location whether you take the job or not. The Death Watch has her.”

Jaster was afraid of that. He breathes out, slow, careful, and—the willingness to offer up half of his bargaining chips makes him more inclined to trust Mace, even if a flicker of wariness still remains. “And the job is?”

Mace doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch. “I want you to assassinate the senior senator from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine. He’s a Sith apprentice.”

Of all the things that Jaster was expecting, that most certainly wasn’t among them.

It takes him a long moment to scrape together a coherent response, another still to get the words right. “Apprentice,” he echoes. “Usually, an apprentice follows a master. Who is the Sith Master, then?”

“A scientist and a banker,” Mace says coolly. “Palpatine is the more dangerous target, and a better duelist. I can handle the Master, but the apprentice I would leave to someone more adept at assassinations.”

It would hardly be the first time the Mandalorians have been hired for such a thing, and Jaster is more than willing to do it. Knowing that Mace will be fighting his own battle allays some of Jaster's fears as well, and he leans on one arm of his chair, considering the man.

“A fraught mission,” he says, “on both parts. You have a plan, I assume.”

If anything, Mace looks amused at that. “The Jedi do not plan,” he says, a trace of humor in the words. “I trust the Force to see me through, however. And as I am training Depa, I will have all the time I need to see things through.”

Jedi, Jaster thinks, and doesn’t roll his eyes. Quite. “And would you care to tell me where you got this information, Master Jedi? Particularly about a traitor within the ranks of the True Mandalorians. I must admit that one surprises me.”

Mace is silent for another moment. “From the future,” he finally offers. “I traveled back with the help of a Force nexus. In the time I came from, the True Mandalorians were wiped out, and the Sith won.”

Something cold slides down Jaster's spine, and he rises slowly, comes to his feet to face the Jedi. Mace meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and—

He looks tired, Jaster thinks, calculating, considering. Tired in a bone-deep, weary way that Jaster had managed to miss before, buried as it was by his determination. Traveled back from the future, through time itself, and Jaster didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Not possible for most people, he thinks, watching Mace. And not optimal even for this one.

“Very well,” he says after a long minute of silence. “But on the condition that you stay here and provide your information throughout the mission. I won't have a Sith kill my men because you think you have better things to do.”

The relief that slides over Mace's expression is subtle, but—Jaster catches it easily. “Agreed,” he says. “We will rely on your hospitality, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster, please,” Jaster says, and moves around the end of his desk, taking Mace's arm. Muscled, he thinks, and that’s likely a good sign. Not a useless Jedi, hopefully. Not if he’s certain he can take on a Sith. “I think the use of first names is allowable now that you're my guest.”

“You have a liberal interpretation of guest,” Mace says dryly, but he doesn’t pull away as Jaster leads him out of the office, and Jaster is willing to count it as a win.

[On AO3]

[bunboxtoyou]

a comforting teashop

had this idea in my head for a while but the writing inspo barely hit me now, sorry for typos, haven’t proofread cuz i want to sleep, will check when i wake, also sorry if it sounds like a ramble i was in a mood, thx for reading

tags: angst, comfort, minor spoilers, major? spoilers, idk it takes place after the war stuff, so i guess spoilers after ch. 139, alluding to pieck/porco and levi/erwin but its up to you its not fully stated, NOT levi/pieck but if you want it could be too, very much up to interpretation

the familiar atmosphere of freshly brewed tea alongside the smell of baked good has become a comforting source for our two veterans. they’ve become accustomed to working together after the war had ended. although they did fight alongside each other, they were not close. it wasn’t until years had gone by, where they were both trying to find what to do with themselves. after all, it was by a miracle that they even got to live longer than expected.

while they were recovering so was everyone else, some going back to the island and some choosing to stay. of course going back to ruins wasn’t easy but they all did what they could. staying back due to his injury and also needing some help to move around, levi found himself living among who once was the enemy. he also found himself in their care, often being led around by gabby and falco as they try to rebuild their lives together.

for pieck on the other hand, she was unsure where she would reside. in some ways she felt that she betrayed the goal, but also knew that they did the best they could in the end. it doesn’t mean the thoughts don’t eat her up at night, along with the images of her fallen comrade. just the one comrade in particular, the image of his face all bloodied as he gave himself up.

it haunts her, but she is not the only one with these nightmares. the stoic captain himself has seemingly grown used to seeing fallen soldiers, but all that is a façade he has forced himself to show outside. in truth, he is still haunted by the images of his family torn apart and his squad being thrown around. worst of all he is haunted by the moments of his commander taking his last breath. he knows he could have saved him, but did he really want his to suffer more than he already did. this was his way out, why would levi rob him of the freedom he finally had. the only freedom any soldier had.

as these two are plagued with these horrifying thoughts, there is also a small silver lining. a small shop that was run down in marley, had been restored as a gift to the ex-captain himself. a gift from his fellow comrades as their final goodbye, as they depart for new ventures back home. the home levi no longer calls home, it now seems so desolate after losing everything he had. having to start anew in the place he once fought against, but it feels awfully comforting in a way. it became his distraction, of course he had to have the occasional help of gabby and falco but he did not mind it at all. it was only when their parents intervened to also help out, it made him feel useless. even though it was for the better, they insisted he couldn’t handle running the whole shop himself so he needed to accept some sort of help. of course he could not hire a stranger, especially with the guilt he held so it seemed he wouldn’t be able to run this business fully.

that was until pieck had volunteered herself to help work around the shop. it was a shock for them all, mostly from the surprise of seeing she had stayed back in marley instead of leaving with the ex-scouts back to the island. of course she had thought about escaping her old home to join the island devils once more, but she decided to stay and work through her guilt towards her home.

at first levi was reluctant to let her join, but he felt he owed it to her. especially for having to lug him around so much during the war, but also for trusting hange and not killing them immediately. so with that, he no longer had to worry about the parents watching over him and no longer had to keep the kids away from living their own lives. it gave him a complete clear conscious, something he rarely felt.

at the start of their working together levi made it very clear on what he would handle on his own. pieck had no qualms about his choices, she agreed she would help only when needed as long as she got to do her own thing. while levi had his teas it came to a surprise that pieck had her baked goods, particularly scones and biscuits. it was the perfect mix of their hobbies that made their business become a nice little comfortable spot for the community, and at the same time they were finding the comfort they needed as well.

while it is true their nights are sometimes haunted with those traumatic incidents, it seems that they have gone down just a bit. only for a bit though, because sometimes the smell of a fresh brew reminds levi of those late night meetings he’d have with erwin. especially those nights before expeditions when they both thought it could be their last. sometimes pieck spills her mix because she sees porco asking when the scones will be done, she even swears she can her his voice calling out that her baking is burning right before the timer goes off.

all these memories play in their heads, but they’ve become bittersweet. when the day finally ends they take what’s left over and enjoy it themselves in silence. no words are needed, not even when they notice the other’s shaky hands or the single tear that falls down a tired face. they don’t need to be discussed because the feeling is mutual. the guilt they share will remain but the scones can make it taste a little sweeter and the tea can help wash away some of the fears they once had. this is their new way of living, this is their way of coping. this is what their peace looks like, for however long they manage. the small teashop in marley, a new home.

[nirikeehan]

For dadwc, Thalia and Dorian fake dating, "The main characters are told that something they’ve been searching for (a person, a concept, a place) doesn’t exist."

Yessssss thank you, I love them!! This is perhaps a more flexible interpretation of the prompt, but I think I got there in the end.

Also, technically Thalia married Cullen in Trespasser but for the sake of the fake dating shtick, I've unmarried them here.

For @dadrunkwriting — in which I break my own rule and do some (vague) speculating on what might happen in DA4.

WC: 1910

---

“I’m afraid it’s simply impossible to allow you access, Magister Pavus,” said the university librarian, staring down the bridge of his nose at the two of them. He had wide half-moon spectacles that made his severe face seem even more daunting. “That section of our Rare Book Collection is strictly forbidden to anyone who isn’t faculty. And even then, they need to obtain special authority from the dean.” 

Dorian let out an exaggerated sigh, casting a dismayed glance at Thalia.

“Oh, dear,” Thalia said, sidling closer to Dorian. He took her gently by the arm. It was a strange sensation — she could not feel a thing, as he had hold of her prosthetic. “And to have come all this way. I was assured the University of Minrathous has the most impressive volume of books in all of Thedas.” 

“And that is so, my lady,” the librarian was quick to add. “But there is such a thing as too much knowledge being dangerous in the hands of the masses. Surely a woman of your pedigree would understand.” 

Thalia stifled a sigh of her own. She had been high born, and spent plenty of time amongst the self-important aristocracy. But as Dorian had frequently warned her, the Tevinter sense of superiority truly was something else. 

“I understand I am to leave here disappointed,” Thalia said coldly. “And let down by the false promises of my betrothed, besides.”

“Betrothed?” the librarian repeated, arching an eyebrow at Dorian. “You’re marrying this woman?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” Dorian shot back.

The librarian backpedaled. “I’m not surprised, my lord, not at all! It’s simply, one hears— er, shall we say, certain gossip—”

“Ah yes, I see the lies and slander have reached every echelon of Tevinter society,” Dorian said. “I swear, one goes south for a year, and while he’s busy saving the world, all sorts of salacious rumor about him pop amongst the idle elite.”

“Forgive me, sir,” the librarian implored. The lobby to the Rare Book Collection was small and airless, and Thalia could see sweat breaking out on his brow. “I did not mean to offend such an illustrious figure in Tevinter society.” 

Dorian huffed. “Well, offended I am. Twice over, in fact. First you make me a fool in front of my fiancee, whom I promised could see for herself the rarest collection of books on the continent, and now you are making insinuations about my social character. I ought to put in a complaint to your superior—”

“Oh, there is no need for that, Magister Pavus,” the poor librarian insisted, and pulled a jangling collection of keys out of the pocket of his robes. “I, er, certainly understand the importance of making one’s spouse happy. I can, perhaps, offer a half an hour while you are certain not to be disturbed?” 

“It will have to do, I suppose,” Dorian said, looking to Thalia. Suppressing a smirk, she gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. 

Traipsing down the dark, cramped aisles of the restricted section, Thalia couldn’t help but think of how easy it would be for the whole place to go up in flames. Tomes with parchment dry as bone cramped every nook, and the spaces between the bookshelves were so tiny they had to walk single file. Dorian went first, strolling with a confidence she did not share. Sconces were few and far between, but the ones they passed burned with a flame that reminded her of Veilfire — some Tevinter magic to keep the torches lit, yet not pose a threat to the coveted tomes within. 

“I thought he’d never let us in,” Thalia murmured once they were safely out of earshot. 

“On the contrary, I knew he would,” Dorian said. “Express enough outrage, and give a minor fledgling something to gossip about, and he’ll bow. Our concerns are far above his pay grade.” 

“Still,” Thalia said, squinting at ancient book spines inscribed in High and Low Tevinter, Old Orlesian, and scripts incomprehensible to her eye, “if we keep using the betrothal gambit, do you think someday someone might try to hold us to it?” 

“Trust me, Mother would send you down the aisle tomorrow if she were to get her claws into you.” Dorian paused under a flickering sconce and flashed a charming grin. “As marriages of convenience go, I could do far worse.” 

“Oh, stop it.” Thalia shoved his shoulder playfully with her good hand.

“Don’t pretend it isn’t appealing to you as well, my dear. Just think: the perfect cover for both of us. Our families would finally shut up, mine because I’ve put aside certain undesirable ‘proclivities’ for a woman, and yours because you’ve stopped mucking about with commoners and married a proper Tevinter noble.”

“You are still a mage. My family hasn’t even fully forgiven me for being one.”

Dorian clucked his tongue. “Ah, well. Nobody’s perfect, after all. I’d be the roguish handsome black sheep of the family. Everyone would dread my coming to town, yet be secretly intrigued by my good looks and impeccable wit.” 

“And your modesty, no doubt.” Thalia smirked, but as the thick walls and packed shelves absorbed the sound of their footsteps, her amusement waned. “Are you even paying attention to where we’re going? I got the impression the librarian will be counting the seconds before he comes after us.” 

“I’ve been here before, remember? Only once, but the place left an impression. If we’ll find it anywhere, I know just the nook.” 

Yes, Dorian had told her: he’d been here before, with Gereon Alexius. It was strange to think back on it now, to remember that her best friend had once studied under the formidable magister and member of the Venatori, back to a time when she doubted Dorian’s motives and loyalties. He studied a great many things under Alexius, it turned out... bits of forbidden knowledge that might help them in the next step of their journey into an uncertain future. Her phantom limb tingled as she picked up her pace.

“Do you really think we’ll find it?” 

“Manuel Andronicus was the most celebrated explorer Tevinter has ever known, and the only one to sail any length of the Amaranthine Ocean and come back alive. If there’s a clue about where to find the Executors, his papers will have them.”

They had confirmation that Andronicus had donated his papers to the university library, and that, for some reason, they had been catalogued in this lightless dungeon within the Rare Book Collection. Why Andronicus’s accounts had been locked away down here they didn’t know, but they hoped it was because his papers contained some vital piece of information that those in high places didn’t want getting out. It all felt a little conspiratorial, like the plot of one of Varric’s mystery novels, but stranger things had happened.

“Cullen believes the Executors aren’t real.” When Thalia voiced his opinion, it made her feel uncertain herself. “That they’re just a convenient fantasy invented as a scapegoat for more mundane crimes. He says that there can’t be truly anything out past the Amaranthine, otherwise it would have been found by now.” 

Dorian snorted. “No offense to your actual betrothed, but he once told me he believes all the ships that sailed east and never returned fell off the flat edge of the world.”

Thalia’s eyes widened. “He did not!”

“He did. If ever I need a city put under siege, there’s no one better. When it comes to the natural sciences, he ought to step aside and let actual scholars do the theorizing. Ah, here we are.”

He had led them to a far corner of the room. Against one wall was a set of chairs around a small table, stained with the melted candle wax and ink spots of many a fevered knowledge seeker. Along the other was another dusty shelf. Dorian squinted over the titles. Thalia joined him, although he was quicker with written Tevinter than she was. After a few minutes, she hoped she was translating the spines incorrectly. 

“Manuel Andronicus has seventeen volumes of travel accounts?” 

“So it would seem,” said Dorian cheerfully. He grabbed for the first in the series, a large tome thicker than his wrist. “And we’ve about twenty minutes, so step lively!”

Thalia took the adjacent volume, wincing at the effort it took her one-handed. The tome was heavy and brittle, and she had to rest it against her prosthetic arm to keep from dropping it. She set it down sloppily on the table and took a seat. Dorian sat across from her, and she leafed through the thin pages with as much gusto as she dared. Andronicus had messy cursive but excellent artistic skills. Much of the parchment was illustrated with maps and sketches of the landscapes and wildlife he encountered. 

“This just seems to be about his journey through the Waking Sea,” she said dubiously. 

“Indeed,” Dorian agreed and slammed his book shut, releasing a plume of dust in the air between them. “Perhaps something later in his repertoire.” 

They replaced the books and pulled haphazardly from higher-numbered volumes. More maps, more sketches, more difficult handwriting that tested the limits of Thalia’s reading comprehension. After skimming three more tomes, she was ready to call it quits. Sighing, she turned a page, and a Tevinter word jumped out at her.

“Here,” she cried, nearly leaping from her seat. Dorian came over to her side, and she pointed. “That says ‘Executors,’ doesn’t it?” 

Dorian leaned over her shoulder, his eyes darting over the words. “It does indeed. It’s just…” He furrowed his brow. “Strange…” 

“Strange how?” 

“He’s describing robed figures he and his crew encountered on a ship of their own, leagues and leagues past Estwatch. Faces not visible, sex and age undiscernible… but calling themselves the Executors.” 

The enigmatic description chilled her. “Anything else?”

“They invited him to dine aboard their ship… and to follow them to an island, the coordinates of which are…” Dorian flipped the page, and they both jolted with surprise. Several pages of the tome had been torn out in the middle, leaving only jagged edges. 

“Dammit.” Dorian pounded the table with his fist. “We were so close.” 

Thalia squinted at the writing on the next intact page, recognizing snippets of words repeated with the emphasis of a hard-pressed quill: Day 172: Endless blue. Day I73: Endless blue. Day 174: Endless blue. Day 175…  

“Who removed the pages?” she asked quietly. 

“Unclear,” Dorian growled. “Andronicus himself? The Executors?” 

 “A third party? Anything could have happened between the time Andronicus returned from his voyage and his effects were donated to the library.” Thalia frowned at the tome. “Whoever catalogued the book, even.”

“Hang on.” Dorian peered closely at the ripped pages. “The collection has been in the library for over a hundred years, but these edges aren’t yellowed,” he said, voice low. “This is recent.”

They stared at each other. A thrill of fear crawled up Thalia’s spine. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder, where the dark aisles loomed. “I think we ought to go.”

“Yes,” Dorian said with forced calm. He stood up straight, straightening his lapels. “I get the feeling we’ve overstayed our welcome.” 

The librarian in the lobby bade them farewell and wished them happy nuptials. Thalia thought perhaps there was something sinister behind his smile, but couldn’t be sure. She suppressed a shiver, and reached for the sturdy warmth of Dorian’s arm.

[kimmyyang]

210408 Zhang Zhehan's interview with Elle Magazine

"I want to be like Ah-Xu, be a gentle yet strong person."

On the day of the photoshoot, it was a rare windy day in Bei Hai. The weather forecast reported it will rain, which made everyone slightly heart-stricken. "Can we still take photos by the seaside?", "how about changing the location?", we were worrying, but fortunately it didn’t rain, only left with steer drop in temperature and roaring wind.

On the way to the photoshoot location, Zhang Zhehan recorded the sound of wind outside of the window. To be able to use the last bit of daylight before the sun sets completely, after filming, he only had one hour and a bit to go back to the hotel, have dinner, change clothes, and get his makeup done. And now, when we have done everything, he uses the time in the car to chat with the long-waited fans in the drama interactive zone.

Busy is an expected state. But when we saw him at the location, you can’t tell any trace of being busy from his face. The strong wind blew the gravels on the beach in the sky. During the interval of the photoshoot, everyone couldn’t help but complained about the cold wind and getting sand all over their faces. Only Zhang Zhehan looked more relaxed as if he came back from a different beach as us.

When we moved to the coffee shop, we finally had time to sit down and talk. He asked the staff to give him a cushion for his back, at that moment, it was probably the first time that made us realize that he is actually very tired. "It’s tough and tiring to be an actor, right?" we haven’t even finished the sentence, and he disagreed, "it’s all the same, every job is tough and tiring."

It seems that he has a big heart.

He chose to ride to Tibet with his friend for his graduation trip. Like his mum said he always has the spirit of seeking out suffering. Speaking of this journey, he said: "we’re living too happily, most families don’t have to worry about clothes and food, don’t need to go through a lot of hardships. I like what Huang Lei teacher once said, ‘people will only have faith after suffering, people will understand kindness after suffering.’ I think after seeing the suffering in the world and feel the suffering yourself - you will be kind to others."

After hearing what he said, you will realize that ‘big heart’ could have been a misunderstanding. He can’t dilute ‘sufferings’ more than others, instead, in the moments of ‘seeking out sufferings’, his feeling towards ‘sufferings’ is stronger and more abundant compared to most people.

He has a very meticulous side, he feels, understands, and hides his ‘sufferings’. Then, those experiences and feelings related to sufferings become something that is hard for others to spot on him.

He said, "when we’re going through a hardship, we can only see the hardship itself, you don’t realize that it’s actually reminding you something and teaching you something else." This is also his understanding of being mature – you can see the many sides of one thing.

‘Bruce Almighty’， ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’， ‘The Bucket List’ are his favorite movies. He said, "there’s a line from Bruce Almighty that left a deep impression – do you really hope God will give you happiness? Maybe everyone’s interpretation of happiness is different, but in the movie, the protagonist only realized it at the end, God was giving him happiness, but not the so-called happiness, God taught him the ability to gain happiness." He pressed his thumb again his chin, slightly looking down, earnestly sharing his impression of the movie.

He added, "you’re actually changing your perspective of the problem." Like what he wrote before, "being mature is being able to see the things that you couldn’t see before."

Maybe if the settling time is long enough, you will be able to stay calm in the change of tides and guard yourself in the quicksand under your feet. Speaking of popularity, he was calmer than we expected.

He said, "popularity is very important for an actor. I think it’s complementary, when you’re popular, you will receive more attention. You will be able to carry some things on your shoulders, first, it can prove that you have the ability, second, it can prove you’re acknowledged by the market."

He continued, "as actors, we also need to be acknowledged by the market. I have seen some amazing actors, they put so much effort into every character but maybe haven’t been acknowledged by the market yet, so they remain unknown. Therefore, a lot of great characters won’t fall into their hands.” It sounds cruel but it’s an undeniable fact. He added, “if you’re not popular, good scripts won’t even land in your hands."

The success of ‘Word of Honor’, to Zhang Zhehan, is like winning the lottery.

He said, "the success of a drama depends on timing, geographical and social conditions, none of these is dispensable. There are hundreds and thousands of dramas filmed each year, but in the end, there will only be one or two that everyone would love. That kind of feels like winning the lottery."

Working hard is very common, it’s nothing special, he thinks it’s unreasonable if you just use ‘working hard’ and ask why you are ‘under appreciated’. Just like how everyone praises him for being an experiential actor and praises his immersive acting. But he thinks, this is the passing line to be an actor, this is what actors are supposed to do.

He said, "if you’re an actor and you don’t experience the character, how could you portray it well, if you don’t get into the character, how could you make the character come to life?"

Working hard, experiencing, and immersing… he views them as a refined definition of actor, these are the preconditions of the lottery ticket. As for whether you can win the lottery in the end, no one can predict it. At least in his experience, he waited for 11 years for that winning lottery ticket.

After the filming ended, he wrote ‘jianghu, goodbye’ on Weibo, when the last episode aired, it was exactly 6 months after the last day of filming. His Weibo is on the setting of showing only the recent 6 months’ posts, as if it was a ‘long been destined’ farewell.

Perhaps the character Zhou Zi Shu is destined to be his. During the four months of filming, he had to gradually reveal Zhou Zi Shu’s two thousand layers of gray, he had to find him, become him, and lastly live the rest of his life for him.

Actors are probably all like this, they always must pour in their own life, emotions, and experience to make the character come to life. The process of making the character come to life means the actors get to experience life and emotions once again.

"Life is experience, you need to put some of your experiences into your characters."

Hegel mentioned in ‘Lectures on Aesthetics’ - 艺术通过供观照的形象可以缓和最酷烈的悲剧命运, 使它成为欣赏的对象。(thank you @sixteenthshen for providing the original quote!)

the specific lines zzh mentioned is bolded: If we are in a general way permitted to regard human activity in the realm of the beautiful as a liberation of the soul, as a release from constraint and restriction, in short, to consider that art does actually alleviate the most overpowering and tragic catastrophes by means of the creations it offers to our contemplation and enjoyment, it is the art of music which conducts us to the final summit of that ascent to freedom.

The reason why those so-called pains are endowed with aesthetic tension may lie in ‘being watched with pleasure’. Those most beautiful things aren’t been torn in our real lives, they become one ‘tearing performance’ after another, being shown on the stage, shown on the screen. The existence of aesthetic distance made ‘those so-called pains’ into something that can be bearable, having its own appreciation.

That so-called ‘pain’ experience comes more direct towards actors, there’s not much room for leeway. In his previous interview, he commented that Zhou Zi Shu is the most memorable character, the character that hurt him the most. Talking about ‘getting hurt’ again, he thinks that is unavoidable.

"I say that an actor has to get into the character and get out of character quickly. But when you’re acting in a happy scene, that happy feeling might last for a day or few days. When you’re acting in a sad, heart-broken scene, even you say it’s ok, it’s fine, it won’t affect me. But it will affect your mood, including your actions. When I go back to my room, I can’t help but to think about that scene, I might not be willing to go out and walk around."

"So, do you think acting is a process of wearing yourself out and wearing emotions down?"

"Of course, of course, of course, it’s wearing myself out." He said of course three times consecutively, "it’s not just wearing my emotions down, it also wears my physical strength out, wears my experience out, and a lot of my own things. So, if I want to do well in a piece of work, I can’t go into the next crew right after I have finished filming. Because you will have traces of the last piece of work, it’s actually hard to accept and get into the next character."

"I personally really like to stay in the filming crew, the reason why I said Zhou Zi Shu is great is that we couldn’t have any other work due to COVID-19 restrictions. I was in the crew for 4 months, in peace. I was looking into and experiencing the character carefully."

On the day of the interview, the Q&A part about acting was the most ‘unrestrained’. Every time we throw out a question, we would always get a powerful and resonating reply. From the perspective of a bystander, you could feel that he is the kind of person that is shining in his professional field.

At the end of every drama/ film, he would choose to leave that environment, and go out to have fun for few days. "I’m not insisting that I need to disengage from the drama/ film, I just want to relax, return to myself, return to Zhang Zhehan’s life."

"So, when you’re looking at Zhou Zi Shu again now as a viewer, do you have any different sentiment?"

"Of course, I would think of the funny parts and incidents. A lot of interesting bits that I’ve added in myself, you can see it in the character." Fortunately, as an actor, he can also feel the happiness that ordinary viewers have.

In our conversation, the words that he mentioned the most were 'gentle yet strong'.

"I really like netizens' comments that Zhou Zi Shu is gentle yet strong."

"The quality that I admire the most now is gentle yet strong."

"I feel like now I want to be like Ah-Xu, someone who is gentle yet strong."

"I want to be like Ah-Xu, become a bit gentler."

He thinks this seemingly contradictory combination is very interesting, "strong describes a person who is strong, whereas gentle is soft. These two words may seem to have no connection, but when they’re put together, it’s also a perfect connection."

"I didn’t feel this way before. I used to think people have to be strong, powerful, how can you be gentle yet strong? I think that’s something I need to learn now. This person must make everyone around them feel comfortable and think of others, but at the same time he/ she is also an individual who’s very strong and full of capabilities."

"Like water, it’s like this when it’s calm, it’s like that when it’s surging high."

He used as many hand gestures as he could as he wanted to express what’s on his mind as much as possible.

Gentle yet strong, this is what he saw, felt from Zhou Zi Shu, and it’s also the character experience he most wants to leave behind.

"Speaking of what hasn’t changed for 11 years, is that I’m still acting; speaking of changes there are a lot. All these years of experience, it became my understanding of each character, in contrast, 11 years of acting experience allowed me to learn a lot from my characters."

To him, every big or small character he had in the past 11 years is a mutual encounter, he gave something to the characters, and the characters also left him with something.

Those who have seen his acting praise him that he truly understands Zhou Zi Shu, so we asked how he could stand in the perspective of Zhou Zi Shu to understand his words and actions. He doesn’t think that it was understanding, it just naturally happened.

"I didn’t deliberately try to understand him, I think what he did was just following his heart, that’s how I feel, so that’s how it should be. I would ask if it was myself, can I do that? Is it acceptable? If I think it’s ok, then it’s right. If I think it’s unacceptable, I will definitely tell the director - 'I don’t want to act this way.'"

"I read another book today, the main idea is the most important thing for people is to know themselves. Know yourself, know what kind of person you are, then you will know the world. You need to learn how to reconcile with yourself, learn how to communicate with yourself, tell yourself when you need to keep going, when to compromise, when you need to understand, when you need to be strong… you need to keep being yourself and convince yourself at certain times."

Meeting Zhou Zi Shu, to Zhang Zhehan is also the process of meeting and knowing himself. "But I’m probably not as mighty as Zhou Zi Shu," he laughed.

He thinks that he’s not at the age of looking back, the things that have happened, just let them go. "There’s nothing to remember in particular, there’s nothing memorable. And my occupation, a lot of people will remember for you, they will remember your good, remember your various moments, so I don’t need to remember. What I need to do now is to live well, my current life, future life, and get into the next role."

"When I can’t act anymore, I think I will look back more."

Now, he wants to challenge a new area, "I really want to act in movies, act in more movies. 40 episodes of acting and 2 hours of acting are different, condensed acting is the quintessence. I still need to learn how to act well in the 2 hours."

And "I hope I can be a director one day."

The beautiful scenery in spring is as deep and wide as the sea, it’s fortunate that we get to meet.

"My occupation, many people will remember every moment of yours."

"Immerse into my next character, and live well - that's what I need to do now. "

Translation by: KIMMYYANG

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

[jiminrings]

hey hannah! hope you are doing great darling ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ i may have a request in mind, a university/college au with jock!jk and shy art major!yn or an olympics au? with olympic athlete!jk and olympic athlete!yn (you decide which sports!) thank you so much in advance ♡

never (k)not you

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

notes: baby ok FIRST OF ALL, i’m so sorry i only got to write this now :(( it’s been three months since you sent in this request bUT well it’s here now :D thank you so much for requesting and waiting!! i really hope ur still here or else i-i... will lose it

if you squint, best friend!tae is actually rich kid tae both from the art major drabble and insufferable!!

lunch with taehyung either makes the both of you the LOUDEST motherfuckers in the planet or it’s just comfortable silence

comfortable silence’s more common whenever the two of you are in public because to put it simply

he’s cold and you’re shy!! makes sense

but god just mention his girlfriend’s name oNCE and he’ll talk your ear off and you get genuinely excited when he is

he just needs to mention gouache for less than a second and you will genuinely freak

then suddenly the both of you are the chattiest beings ever and absolutely no one will yield until they get the final say

but this

this just feels weird...

because it’s lunch and you’re not talkative and the silence is most definitely not comfortable

you just know tae has something up his sleeve and will probably catch you off-

“are you and jungkook a thing?”

...

......

it’s never actually registered in your head that you and jungkook are a THING but absolutely no one knows

literally no one

not even the dust living underneath your bedframe!! or if guardian angels existed, then they’d probably be clueless as fuck

lol wait what was that cold gust of wind on ur arms

jungkook is the dreamiest man alive and he’s been your boyfriend for what?? two years now??

and the two of you, and more of him actually, insisted to keep it private

your relationship is none of anyone’s business and it uh.,. it literally seems to be that way because sometimes even yOU forget that you’re in a relationship

jungkook avoids you like the plague and you keep to yourself like you do with all your gouache

this dynamic of no one knowing has been so instilled in you that tae’s innocent (?) question is enough to make you spiral little by little

taehyung was just harboring an idea ok

because like two days ago when you went out with him and his girlfriend for ice cream, jungkook was there too by himself

and that just seems like pure coincidence

but then they dOn’t seem like coincidences anymore when he realizes on the same day how many classes he was in where you were in

and you don’t even have the same major!!!

or when he’s walking you home because your apartment is literally on the right side of his girlfriend’s (changbin’s on the left) and he’s taking every possibility he gets

but it just so happens that uh... jungkook’s always there from a distance? like when the two of you are walking and that guy just hAD to be there at the back??

goddamn it tae should’ve gotten his parents’ offer for personal security while he’s studying in campus :((

“woah woah wOAH what’s the matter?” you panic when he shoves you inside your apartment the moment you manage to open it

“this fucking jungkook guy is either stalking you or me and it’s starting to get on my nerves!!”

“... taehyung-“

and then he realized that oh... ok... i see

what if this guy has a crush on you??

but it didn’t make sense because why would this soccer guy (no offense) that’s a jock (no offense) who always either looks high with how giggly he is (no offense) or bereaved with how he scowls (no offense) could POSSIBLY like you???

you who’s the art major (no offense) with your clothes almost exactly like he is (no offense) that he has an inkling that either you were copying him or him copying you (no offense) and the shyness that you absolutely wouldn’t talk to anyone unless they go first and tHAT even became a tough cookie for him!! h i m

wait

on another thought...

that does make sense

you and jungkook are more likely to be a couple than anyone else more alike to either of you, no offense :D

and the way now that you’re frozen and scoffing like ur voicing mater’s engine in cars

“w-what? FUCK no!!”

mhmmm

yeah that’s the spot

taehyung means this in full offense but you’d be absolutely bankrupt if ever you wanted to try your hand at poker when your tell is literally cussing in capital when you’re flustered

this is the equivalent of your mom leaving you by the line to the cashier at the grocery when she needs to get something and you’re next at the line and you have no money on you and you’re too hesitant to tell the person behind you to-

“why? are you thinking of asking him out?”

he hears you seethe and that’s only the second time he’s heard you actually do that so he may have straightened his posture a lil

you wouldn’t hold it against taehyung because jungkook is one fINE specimen and tae doesn’t stare from that description anyway

you just can’t help but feel a lil.....

ಠ_ಠ

because you know that jungkook is yours and when it comes to things like these, you can’t do anything about it

how could you??

fine... if taehyung tries to-

smack!

the fact that your friend has a gigantic palm for one doesn’t soothe the gears in your head

you’re positive that your brain actually shook inside your head for a split second

“i already have someone, dumbass.”

taehyung has to remind you again to which you immediately awe in remembrance, a sheepish smile on your face bc for a moment, you actually considered begging for tae to back the fuck off without making it seem you’re already with jungkook

he waves you off because you’re about to coo at him again, a small smile on his face because he wouldn’t forget how he’s so lucky

it’s nice to be in love!!

you should probably try it some time

but then again, taehyung’s starting to think that you’ve been in a longer relationship with jungkook than him in one, so he thinks that he should be the one taking notes from you

“can i, uhm, ask how did you know?”

you don’t mind swallowing your pride because you already know you can’t bullshit your way out of this one, a timid look on your lap

sheesh

tae’s pride seems to swell up because his suspicion’s right just by oNE singular try

“because i’m rich kid kim :) don’t you know that?”

see now this is only one of the few times that he’d gladly take his title

rich kid kim was coined by the courtesy of changbin, his girlfriend’s friend :/

it just seemed to STICK on everyone else after then

changbin was the first to narrate his actions like he’s the lead star of a poorly-produced netflix film

what’s wrong with rich kid kim? is his greeting every time he crosses paths with changbin

he was just pissy that oNE time!! it was ONE time

taehyung thinks of the whole jungkook situation and relates it to him as much as possible because ya know,,, he is the main star and koo’s just a second lead

ok changbin’s netflix narrations are really rubbing off on him

“think of jeon jungkook as an elitist that everyone wants to be close with, and yet he actually looks like one of the good guys — like me — and he looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot when he gets offered caviar oNE more time, and then you’re like uh, the comic relief???”

he spews his interpretation all in one breath effortlessly and you’re just blinking slowly to try and digest it all

it’s oddly too specific

hol up now why does it sound like he’s been actually waiting for you to ask him that

HOLD ON YOU’RE THE COMIC RELIEF???

“a clowN?” is what you react first and tae can’t believe that that’s the only thing you picked up from his perfectly sound analogy

“uhhhh like a bartender? a waitress? someone that isn’t a socialite,” he shrugs as he tries to make amends, remembering that the last time he went to a rich kid kim party, no one was technically in pennywise shoes nor juggling bowling pins

“are you trying to insult me tae?”

:((

yIKES are u gonna cry

“what?? no!! no!!” he launches from his seat as if he was falling and that catches him a couple of glances from rich kid kim loyalists (there’s a lot of things he’s unaware of), about to punch the floor if only their lord and savior didn’t take it in stride, “i’m not trying to insult you, but it’s how you take it, y’know?”

his nonchalance puts you on the edge even more, launching from your seat and uh you don’t exactly have any concerned fanbase there to worry for you

“so i sHOULD?? tae you’re basically saying that-”

alright that’s it

he needs to actually get through you this time because more often that not, you are so fucking stubborn that it beats him

he glares at you, eyes looking comically large and pissy as he’s stopped in the middle of slurping from his cup noodles to talk some sense into you

it feels like an eternity until he finishes his noodles and you were almost tempted to just eat the remaining portion to fasten his pace

“in rich kid kim terms, or reality y/n terms?”

you’re almost too scared to answer but you already do before you can even process, raising two fingers

and for a moment, you think tae’s actually gonna go easy on you!

whew you definitely aren’t prepared if-

“do you come out together by the main door? or from the back?”

your eyes are as large as they could possibly be and if you stay in that same shocked and taken-aback state, you’d need to look for those creams with how much your eyebrows and your forehead are creased

u-uh well now that i think about it-...” okay maybe you and jungkook don’t come into uni by any of the several hundred main entrances at all, but that doesn’t mean-

“does he hold your hand? carry your backpack? doesn’t matter if you have a dumbbell in there or not, does he carry it?” tae lists item after item, racking through his mind as these were also all the things he does, and all the things he’s picked up from everyone

“does he bring your water? lend his hoodie when you’re not even sniffling? pick a fight when someone even looks at you the wrong way? read something relatively romantic in english lit, then text you about it? brag about you to his friends? does he-...”

...

....

okay

you are awfully too silent for even your nature

tae was blissfully obvious just two seconds ago when he was enumerating boyfriend traits (that he himself exhibited, excuse you) left and right

then he started to realize that you weren’t stuttering nor interjecting on the side

he’s :O when you’re standing up from your seat, straightening out your hoodie, one that isn’t jungkook’s, that you’ve been anxiously wrinkling for the past ten minutes

“excuse me, tae. i have uh.. i have a lot to think about.”

everything he’s said made a solid number on you because not even distracting yourself becomes successful

not even your mini fixation on gouache helped you because so far it really sucks

it’s become a routine of jungkook to come over to your apartment almost everyday that it practically feels he’s living with you

he knows where you keep your milk and how cold you want the AC to blast and how you organize your groceries

and yet jungkook can’t-

“koo do you love me?”

it’s a question that was sprung so suddenly because come to think of it, you’re knitting and jungkook’s head is buried in your thighs while he tries to take a nap

he doesn’t bother trying to figure out your thought process because it’s a question that’s so simple that it seemed trivial

jungkook’s a dream when he nods and hums to your thighs, making you tread your hands on his hair instead of your roll of yarn

“mhmmm. more than life itself.”

he loves loves you!!! he doesn’t even know why you’re asking

“okay,” you hum back, crouching down to press a kiss on his nape that he appreciates because he’s a little ticklish on that spot, “hold my hand tomorrow then.”

:-)

jungkook launches from his position on your thighs, sitting up immediately that it’s gotten him dizzy

“... w-what?”

oh boy here it goes

you don’t feel like dancing around this issue anymore because after all, you do have the right to stick your finger in this!!

he’s your boyfriend i mean like what’s not clicking

“it’s not that big of a deal, jungkook. it’s not like i asked you to propose to me or something.”

his eyes widen more at that, his cheeks puffing out and it makes you realize that taehyung was right and it dOES look like he’s hiding a goldfish in there sometimes

you try to bite back a laugh at that but jungkook is devoid from any entertainment at all, looking like you just asked him to pick between you and the universe

“you uh want me to propose??”

he has his hand awkwardly caressing his nape and his cheeks flush as he’s trying to process things

yeah he DOES love you and he’ll marry you eventually but you’re doing this now!!! as in now??

how’s your wedding gonna work? god, can the two of you decide on the menu for your reception? does this mean your aunts and his aunts would mee?? no no that could not possibly be-

“you don’t need to,” you sheepishly mumble and you’re not gonna deny that marrying jungkook did cross your mind every once in awhile

you aren’t against it but marriage is not the issue at hand!! it’s just about him hOLDING your hand tomorrow and not forever now

“so you don’t want me to?”

...... christ where is this going to

there’s palpable tension in the air and you just feel like giving up, sinking further into the couch and koo’s reading TOO much into it

what if you slouching on the couch means you’re breaking up with him and you wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last person alive

“if you aren’t ashamed of me, or if you don’t feel like dYING when i’m five feet away from you and your jock friends-“

“lovie i-“

your ringless hand raises and prompts him to shut up, palms a little sweaty and fingers tired from stress-knitting

“then hold my hand. tomorrow. please.”

:-)

okay fine then

last night wasn’t exactly the best experience because you felt a little too distant even if he was enveloping you into his arms

last night, kook didn’t even dare to try and press mischievous kisses from your jaw to your shoulder because you felt untouchable with how wringed you were

then he had breakfast by himself much earlier and had to practically sHAKE you awake to whisper that he’s gonna leave earlier because he has a plan, and then proceeds to tell you to act as if you didn’t know that he has a plan, then go back to sleep and forget altogether that this literal rude awakening even happened

if you ask him, he is wearing the most boyfriend fit ever in this entire universe

which is uh his regular outfit of a fit shirt and a cool-looking jacket with chunk boots thrown on top of it

BUT!!!!

hear him out ok

he’s wearing a bracelet

uh huh

a bracelet...... that has the iNITIAL of your name

yuh how romantic is that

man both hallmark and netflix must be bankrupt because of jeon jungkook!! he’s sure of it

he just knows

the big deal of it all is jungkook waiting for you by the stairs, bouncing on heels out of displaced nervous energy because he’s too jittery to just coolly lean against the wall

“kook?”

you’re tilting your head at the sight, a little lost but more on fond as he smiles squarely 

“y/n! it’s uh, it’s you! wow!!” 

he exclaims but not without tucking his hands into his pockets and non-discreetly looking around your surrounding before he deems it clear enough, which is what you still find useless for him to even do it!!

the whole point of this is to not care!!

he’s gingerly placing himself beside you and although it’s not exactly what you asked for, it makes you sigh a breath of relief because it’s been tOO long that you’ve been next to him in this public atmosphere

he’s not exactly far, but he isn’t exactly bumping shoulders with you either

there are some glances alright 

jungkook has a loose grip on you but you could fEEL how his hand is so sweaty

he’s just looking at the floor and he allows you to guide him because if not for you, he would’ve been bumping into both lockers and people non-stop

u actually have first period together but you typically sit rowS away but now he’s just sitting on the chair right above yours

he isn’t next to you but he’s literally above you, so maybe you’ll take it

you can’t exactly text taehyung how it’s going because he could see everything from where he’s seated at

this was supposed to be an enjoyable time :(

a nice, giggly, warm enjoyable time with jungkook

but being this unrestricted meant him being so rigid that quite frankly, you’ve grown sick and wary of it in less than an hour

you’re making your way to the library and jungkook’s sTILL following you when you were sure he wouldn’t have

and if you ask him, he doesn’t know either why he followed you

he jus did it without thinking even if it meant him taking quick steps behind you with his head down 

he doesn’t know why you’re here and he feels a little guilty that he should know it if this was already a part off your routine

but this time, jungkook can’t look at you because this time, you’re the one who’s unreachable

who kNOWS what your empty stare could possibly mean

“we don’t have to do this anymore, y’know.”

that’s the quickest way to conclude it, nodding to yourself surely

meanwhile, jungkook is a millisecond away from a goddamn mELTDOWN

“w-what do you mean?”

“this!” you genuinely chuckle and even wiggle your hands around to make a point

he swears to god rn that he is gonna BLUBBER

“a-are you breaking up with me right now?”

his voice is already cracking and it reminds him that oh, yeah, the two of you are in the library and he’s about to cRY

you’re gasping when you take his trembling hand and jungkook wants to snatch it back and beg you to hold it tighter at the same time

oh no :-)

“it’s okay. i don’t mind anymore. and what, we’re gonna graduate like a year from now! doesn’t matter anymore.”

but wait it SHOULD matter

he’s gonna cry oh god oh god he’s gonna-

“you don’t need to change for me.”

:((

so that’s what

jungkook cries and it’s from relief that no, you aren’t breaking up with him

“o-okay,” he nods as he wipes his own tears that are blurring his vision and there’s sO much that he actually worries if it would budge his contacts

he just wants a hug from you to console him like you always do

but instead, you look around, settle on tapping his chin, then standing up

“cheer up. i’m gonna go eat lunch with felix.”

and then yOU’RE the one leaving him

quick

does he really look like a red-nosed, bleary-eyes, puffy-lipped mess??

say sike rn lads

jungkook clearly doesn’t look the best and he doesn’t exactly know what he was doing when he came out of the library and marched over to hang out with his friends like he always did

but something’s just different

he looks like someone whose world turned upon him and has nothing left to himself

surprisingly, it’s not hobi who’s the only one thinking of that

his friends are all ????

“y’okay man??”

namjoon’s the first to break the silence and everyone sighs because they were all holding a breath just by looking at jungkook’s distraught state

“yeah! just, uh, just —“

he’s back to being preppy in an instant but he can’t establish eye contact, swinging his arms by his sides and looking around just to look natural and gOD IS THAT YOU??

you’re you

you’re there, walking with felix and your backpack on hIS shoulder

.,., the same backpack that he’s bought you one birthday ago, on tHIS dude’s shoulder strewn as if he didn’t panic in between which variant should he buy for you

you look blissfully unaware that he’s cried himself just by thinking about you and your words and lack of actions just awhile ago

“nothing.” 

jungkook grits out and suddenly, he isn’t sad anymore :D

just uh

just a lil frustrated :D agitated :D or maybe feeling a little inadequate and outraged :D

this other mini breakdown going on his head doesn’t go unnoticed because here he is, so close to injuring his fist with how tight he’s clenching it

the guys, however.,.,

seokjin whistles and goes as far to squint his eyes intentionally that he looked like a distraught chihuahua, immediately grabbing jungkook’s actions as he nods his head to your direction

“y/n, right?”

jungkook froze and everyone is just waiting on him, mouths a little parted because they’ve caught on jin’s little plan and somehow, he might’ve struck a chord sO hard that-

“keep your fucking dick in your pants, seokjin.”

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

everyone’s reacting to his seething like a flock of seagulls to a piece of bread

yeah they’ve seen the youngest of their group mad, but not tHIS type of mad that he looks like he would’ve hit his hyung with a skillet upright if he had one onhand

everyone’s visibly offended besides seokjin, the man mentioned just amusedly shrugging his shoulders with a dimpled smile that unintentionally provoked jungkook even more

“told you,” yoongi gives up his last batch of cookies to namjoon, a long-winded bet finally coming to an end because of what was only supposed to be a harmless question by jin

“if y/n was your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so!!” 

jin ruffles his hair and it doesn’t exactly take a genius to see how he cares for you!!

jungkook looks out for you in ways he couldn’t even notice doing

he always had two umbrellas in his backpack and when it was raining, he’d leave one on purpose by the front of this specific locker

hoseok actually borrowed an eraser without permission from kook once, but then he found a combination of tampons n napkins that he grimaced because what :// those aren’t even the good brands!! he has a sister and now has a handful of knowledge about monthly visits, so he takes note to talk to jungkook about it some time

there’s even an extra sweater in his backpack that always remains unotuched

one time, jimin complained that he was cold and turned to jungkook, full-well knowing that the fucker had oNE more sweater tucked in his bag, who just plains-out ignore him and even tch!s him under his breath

they somehow had a clue all along and now that jungkook realizes, he may be a little dENSE

OH RIGHT

WHY WOULD HE HAVE KEPT YOU HIDDEN

that’s entirely stoopid of him

what was the reason lmao

this time, jungkook’s more than eager to make it up to you

eVEN if you’ve insisted that nothing was wrong!!

it was just the last day before christmas break so it went by considerably fast-paced because even the professors were a little antsy to come home!!

that didn’t stop him, because clearly, jungkook holds your hand tight this time and he’s looking straight ahead

he looks proud

he feels natural and giggly the whole day that you couldn’t stop either because it’s a complete 360 from yesterday

wouldn’t absolutely stop holding your hand and following you

even kisses the top of your head like a kitten repeatedly

eVEN SAT IN A CLASS HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE WITH YOU

something’s up with jungkook alright

the two of you are back again on the couch — you knitting, and him buried and napping on your thighs

it’s a bit of a shock when he grabs your hand all of a sudden, a half-sleepy and full-on dreamy look on his face when he’s looking up at you from being laid down on your lap

a red silicone band :D

you’re still speechless when he’s sliding it on your ring finger, admittedly getting the wrong finger the first time which is why he’s sheepish and holding back a giggle

“jungkook....?”

unsurprisingly, it looks good on you

he seems to think so himself when he’s giving you another one, holding his hand out and you’re doing the same without even an explanation present

“it’s a placeholder :)”

a placeholder?? hold on ur heart is a lil fragile

your eyes widen and your lips downturn on instinct, making him giggle as he smushes your cheeks to just let him explain

“all this marriage talk just had me thinking-”

“are you PROPOSING right now??”

both the mix of panic and excitement stains you clearly, mouth dropping open as you try to fumble for atleast something to wipe your face with

hee-hee 

“maybe i am, maybe i’m not :)”

jungkook’s such a romantic it’s SICKENING

his mind drifts off and you can’t blame him!!

his family’s well-off so maybe he could cash in his next ten birthdays for a loan or maybe even a house to help ease the two of you in

maybe the two of you could even build it from the ground up

the two of you could also move into this nice apartment after graduation!! he’s been eyeing it for quite awhile actually

“you wanna get married early?”

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t :D”

jungkook’s faux nonchalance makes you grin yourself, the both of you knowing what answer he’d yield anyway

“as long as it’s you,” you declare surely, bending down to press a kiss on his nose that tickles him and makes his heart full

“as long as it’s me?”

jungkook smiles cheekily at your statement pressing kisses on the top of your thighs that’s got you fumbling at him to just embrace you immediately

he’s a little bulky with all the muscles he’s gained and worked on, a little pressured when he’s sitting on your lap upright and won’t absolutely stop kissing you sweetly

“you should start on knitting your wedding garter now :D”

[bbangsoonie]

to my ex (best friend)

member: juyeon genre: fluff?? word count: 2,175 synopsis: thanks to kevin’s tiktok obsession, you end up sending out a google form to all of the people you used to call your best friends. one response brings back forgotten memories and feelings.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with the Canada boys for another 4 years,” you jokingly groaned.

Today was officially move-in day and the beginning of your college life. After roughly unpacking in your dorm room, you went over to Jacob and Kevin’s room to hang out. Jacob had his guitar out and was playing random chords for you to hum along to. Kevin, on the other hand, was glued to his phone. TikTok had been his new obsession and he was constantly watching the endless feed of videos.

“Hey, we are the iconic trio,” Jacob insisted.

“Wow Eric is basically a TikTok star now,” Kevin commented as he showed you two the video that popped up on his For You page. “This kid is stuck on straight TikTok though.”

Jacob laughed, although he was unsure of what that exactly meant. Knowing this, you chuckled at his efforts to appease his roommate.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kevin tugged at your arm in an urgent matter. “Can we also do that Google form trend?”

“Uhh which one?” you asked.

“The one where you send out a Google form to your ex-crushes or ex-friends,” he turned to Jacob to further explain. “So basically it’s a questionnaire either revealing your past feelings or confronting what happened between old friends.”

“I don’t know, man. Our high school years were pretty vanilla. We didn’t even have that many crushes,” you shrugged.

“Hmm I mean we did have that huge friend group freshman year. It’s a shame it kinda fell apart as time went by,” Jacob reminisced.

You were reminded of the people you once considered to be your best friends. It was you and twelve other boys, which should’ve hinted at the inevitable end. The beginning of the end started with Hyunjoon transferring to a different school. Then, as you all grew older and high school drama kicked in, you were the topic of many rumors. People didn’t understand—or like—that you were the only girl in an all male friend group. Girls called you all sorts of names and spread ridiculous lies about you that spread to neighboring schools.

No one in the group had any bad blood with each other. Life just pulled you in different directions and you simply grew apart. Some joined the dance team, which consumed most of their time. Some joined varsity teams and focused on getting a sports scholarship. Some became trainees and lost contact with everyone. Some, like you and the Canada boys, became busy with college applications. Everyone had their own reasons and there were no hard feelings.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to finally find out what they all think? Get closure before we start our journey as college students?” Kevin asked, eagerly.

“I guess,” you agreed.

“Alright! Then we’ll play rock paper scissors to choose who has to send them out,” Kevin declared.

Your unlucky streak, without fail, won you the embarrassment honor of writing and sending the form to all your former friends. You grumbled, displeased at the fact that you were now the scapegoat fulfilling Kevin’s curiosity. Nevertheless, you searched through your contact list to find everyone’s phone numbers and sent them the link, hoping that no one changed their number.

By the next day, you received responses from all 10 of them. The trio reconvened in Jacob and Kevin’s room to review the answers. The first few were essentially what you all expected. They explained how life became hectic and your paths just crossed less and less as your interests and goals changed.

When you came across Haknyeon’s comment, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You still owe me ice cream for lending you my pen during our final exam,” you read aloud. You recalled the day; you were freaking out about your misplaced pencil case and he had kindly offered his extra pen.

“What else would you expect from the foodie?” Kevin laughed.

By the time you got to Juyeon’s response, however, you froze. Curious as to what caught you so off guard, Jacob took the laptop from your lap and gasped. Kevin peeped over Jacob’s shoulder and his jaw dropped after reading it. He immediately looked at you, wondering how you were taking the information.

You were confused. He had been the object of your love and attention for a good three years in high school. Not wanting anyone to find out, you had swallowed those feelings and the Canada duo were the only ones to ever catch on. You and Juyeon used to be extremely close—even closer than you and Kevin or you and Jacob. He always quietly took care of you and the two of you shared everything with each other until one day he suddenly became distant. Without an explanation, he left your side and never returned. You just assumed he wanted to stop being friends. It hurt but you didn’t want to force a one-sided friendship so you stopped reaching out to him.

“What the heck?” you finally blurted.

Jacob slowly closed the laptop shut, eyeing Kevin who seemed way too giddy. He felt uneasy, not knowing if this was a good thing.

“So your first love was requited,” Kevin said smugly. “I told you so.”

“Okay you had absolutely no facts to back up your assumption back then,” you argued.

“What did I tell you? My gut is never wrong.”

“Yeah but he also just cut me off out of nowhere. How else was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Clearly not the way we did.”

Jacob smacked his hand over Kevin’s mouth to shut him up. He knew how much pain Juyeon’s name brought you. You didn’t show it but you still had a soft spot for him.

“It’s okay, Jacob. Whatever feelings I had for Juyeon—good and bad—are history. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me,” you assured. “Besides, this doesn’t even mean anything. He wrote all of this in past tense. He’s just clarifying the reason why our friendship ended. Like Kevin said, I guess I finally got closure.”

“Closure? My brilliant idea has brought forth an opportunity for you to rekindle your love!” Kevin exclaimed excitedly.

“No. No way,” you shook your head. “The past is in the past. We are living very separate lives now.”

“Oh stop quoting Frozen and just try texting him,” he rolled his eyes. “Jacob and I never told you but he’s actually attending the same university as us.”

This prompted a very loud “What?” from you. Jacob buried his head in his hands, groaning. He was definitely going to get an earful.

“You’re bound to run into him eventually. So just take the initiative and face things head on,” Kevin advised. “Won’t that be less awkward than coincidentally meeting him after ignoring his response to the form you sent him?”

“And who’s the one who made me send it?” you glared, puffing your cheeks.

“You’re going to do it anyway so just hurry up and pretend you have no choice but to listen to me,” he snickered.

“Moon Hyungseo!”

At your use of his full Korean name, his eyes widened in fear and he jumped up to run away, barely avoiding your slap. Watching the scene in front of him, Jacob laughed. He had secretly hoped that you would reconnect with Juyeon as well. He knew how much you used to like him.

That night, you found yourself staring at Juyeon’s contact on your phone. Your heart raced at the thought of talking to him again. It had been years since you two last spoke and so many things had changed since then. You were no longer oblivious and clumsy teenagers. You knew each other’s past selves but didn’t know a thing about each other’s current selves. You were afraid that even if you became friends again, it would be too different. It was why you never harbored any hope for things to go back to “normal” with him. You couldn’t be disappointed if you never had any expectations to begin with.

Still, you took a leap of courage and sent a simple “hey” before you could chicken out. His reply was almost instant, which startled you.

You: hey

Juyeon: Hi Y/n

You: would it be weird if i asked to meet? i think we have a few things to talk about.. if that’s ok with you

Juyeon: Sure! How’s tomorrow at noon? We could talk over a meal at the school cafeteria

You: sounds good. see you then :)

You wanted to scream into your pillow. The awkwardness was driving you crazy but you were still looking forward to seeing him. He still had you wrapped around his finger and you hated it. But you still loved him.

The next day, your clothes were flung around all over your bed. You had rummaged through your entire closet to find an outfit you were satisfied with, resulting in you running a bit late.

Juyeon had arrived at the cafeteria early. He was so nervous that he couldn’t just stay still in his dorm. After all these years, he was finally confronting everything that he had concealed. He always felt guilty about the way he treated you and he was glad he could finally explain and apologize.

When he saw you approach him, he couldn’t stop himself from staring. It had only been a summer since he last saw you at graduation but your beauty still amazed him. He gulped, standing up to greet you when you reached the table.

The first few minutes were spent eating in awkward silence. Unable to bear it any longer, he cleared his throat to begin the conversation.

“Um so I guess my response to that form was a lot to unpack, huh?” he said sheepishly.

You almost choked on the food, surprised by his straightforwardness. He passed you your cup of water as you coughed.

“Yeah..” you mumbled.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I think I always had feelings for you. At first, it was subtle. I just liked spending time with you. I liked making you smile. I was content with just being friends. You know me, I’m the type to just watch my crush from afar. Then, as we got older, those feelings grew to be bigger than I could handle. I began to get greedy. And I felt that I could literally do anything for you. That’s when I realized how hard I fell for you and that scared me. I was afraid of ruining our friendship but I was also scared of my own feelings. So I started distancing myself from you. It’s a poor excuse but back then, I was a coward,” he confessed.

Juyeon had always been a very direct person. He never really beat around the bush and you liked that about him. That hadn’t changed about him but yet it still surprised you.

“If I could go back in time, I wish I could have done things differently. I knew I was hurting you but I thought that after all that’s happened, continuing to be friends with you would make you the center of gossip again. I didn’t want to make your life any harder,” he added.

“Juyeon, I cared about you a lot more than I did about those stupid rumors.”

“I know that now. But high schooler me was terrified of you finding out about my feelings.”

You contemplated on whether or not you should bring up your own past feelings. You wanted to reciprocate his honesty but were worried that it would be unnecessary. You took a deep breath and decided on the first option.

“You know, I was also terrified of having you find out about my feelings,” you admitted. Your words shocked him as he tried to figure out what you were implying.

“Wait, you.. You liked me too?” he gaped, making you blush.

“Let’s uh stop talking about that now,” you said as your cheeks reddened to a darker shade.

“While we’re opening up..” he looked at you with hesitance. “Is there any chance you still feel the same way now?”

His question caught you entirely off guard. You blankly stared at him, wondering if you heard him correctly.

“Juyeon, this is the first proper conversation we’ve had in years,” you deadpanned.

“That’s not an immediate no,” he lit up.

You wanted to laugh at his simplicity. His childlike innocence was still the same. It warmed your heart to see that he hadn’t changed as much as you were afraid he would. Yet, the fear in the back of your mind remained. You weren’t confident that you could even resume your friendship with him. At your silence, he tried to lighten the mood.

“So then would being friends again be okay with you?” he asked.

“I guess we could try,” you slowly nodded, bringing a bright smile to his face. You didn’t notice that your expression reflected his.

“Great,” he grinned happily.

And that was the beginning of a new story between you two.

bonus:

[laurentspup]

Friends... Is that what we are? (Lamen AU) Part 7.5

Masterlist

Author’s note: 

Hey it’s been so long since I updated this! It still takes a lot of me to think of dialogue and edit the messages, so this isn’t new content. It is, however, what really happened in part 7 (when Damen went to Laurent’s house and read him a book, and kissed his forehead). I always thought this was better in paragraphs than soc med format, so here it is. I actually drafted this before part 7 and I finished it now! 

I hope you all enjoy this new chapter and I promise I will be back with a new update soon. I just have to get used to driving (just passed my license a month ago), college (it’s my last year), and work (first year in person). 

Okay that was a lot, now onto this chapter full of sweetness and pining.

Part 7.5

It’s past midnight, but Laurent still has a big smile on his face since his call with Damen. It has been a few hours after Damen simply talked about his day, about his brother, about the yacht his parents bought because they had too much money and nothing more to spend it on, anything he could think of. Laurent was more than happy to sit there and listen to his voice. He liked the man too much to do anything else about it.

He is currently studying for his upcoming biology exam on Tuesday. It’s not too bad of an exam, but there are endless terms, endless body functions, and he hates that all he can do is memorize everything. It’s not learning but it does result in an A. His phone buzzes beside him, and welcoming any distraction, he picks it up to see a text from Damen. He’s downstairs.

Laurent runs to his window to check if it’s true. Damen, knowing exactly what Laurent does every time he surprises Laurent with a visit, is looking up at him, waving. Damen’s at Laurent’s door. He isn’t supposed to be home yet, back in this city, but here he is, glowing under the porch light, gorgeous in his hoodie, and everything Laurent ever wanted. He’s speaking but Laurent, shaking his head with a look of disbelief, can’t hear him. 

“Wait one sec.” He whispers with a gesture and turns around to go downstairs in a hurry. Before opening the door, he fixes his hair and assumes a relaxed position, as if his heart isn’t pounding miles a minute at the prospect of Damen outside his house, at midnight. As if this doesn’t happen almost everyday.

Once he’s face to face with Damen’s kind eyes, with the smile that can only be read as extremely happy to see him, his heart hammers harder in his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Laurent breathlessly asks him with wide eyes, confusion and excitement evident on his face, try as he might to mask it.

Damen is also breathless, though Laurent can’t think of any reason why.

“I missed you.”

It’s a punch to all the right places in Laurent’s heart. It’s something he can never say to Damen out loud, but he feels it all the same, right down to his bones. It’s something he didn’t know Damen had the nerve to say out loud to him. 

“I mean-” Damen begins and Laurent’s face twitches. Damen must have caught it because he stops. “I mean yeah. I missed you so I drove back since there’s nothing to do at my parent’s anymore. And I got you this.”

Laurent doesn’t see the Target plastic bag in Damen’s hand until he lifts it. 

“It’s from my mom. She insisted I give you a home-cooked meal since she knows you’re mostly alone nowadays. She doesn’t stop hinting at my dad that she wants to go on a European tour too, see Paris- what? Why are you smiling?”

Laurent doesn’t know he’s smiling. He tries to school his expression even though it’s too late.

“Nothing. You’re here. No- it’s just- I don’t know what I’m saying. Come in.” He quickly says the sentences after the other, making Damen laugh and his cheeks flush. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything!” Damen enters behind him, shaking with happiness. 

Laurent leads him to the kitchen, so he can put the food in the fridge. It’s too late to eat right now and he has a few more chapters to read.

Damen gives him the plastic bag and sits on the stool by the island. He stares at Laurent as he unpacks the tupperwares, then puts it in the fridge. A comfortable silence surrounds them, but Laurent is too conscious of Damen’s stare. It’s as if he can hear the dangerous somersaults Laurent’s heart was doing. 

“You still studying tonight?” 

“Yeah. Bio’s kicking my ass.”

“I’ll stay up with you. Nik’s not home yet, anyway. He visited his parents too since he was there already.”

“You don’t have to stay up.”

“No, I want-”

“But you can stay.”

“Well, I’m staying up and you can’t stop me.” Damen is right in front of Laurent's face when he turns to face him. He steps back quickly. “Cool?”

“Do whatever you want.” Laurent replies, heart in his throat, rushing to leave the kitchen and get to his room before Damen sees his face turn dangerously red. 

**

Laurent’s head is bent, back to Damen, busy reading the last chapter for his exam. Nothing is entering his brain anymore, but he has to read all of these at least two times to store it in his brain until his test. He’s been yawning since the third paragraph, and he has a massive headache which began in the previous chapter. 

It has been two hours since Laurent started studying and let Damen just be in the background. He would hear Damen’s little laughs, gasps, or groans at whatever game he was playing on his phone. He feels Damen’s gaze on his back, conscious of him being conscious of his every move. It was a normal routine for them at three am, but somehow, today, it was more. 

Laurent yawns again. This chapter about the reproductive system is very intriguing, but exasperating. He would rather do it himself than read about it. If only the man currently on his bed knew how much he has been thinking about him and this. He sighs at the idea, then hears Damen shuffle on his bed.

“I think you need to take a break.”

“Be quiet. I’m studying.”

“Take a break, Laurent. You’ve been reading nonstop for two hours. I got so bored I started counting how much you’re yawning. It's thirty-seven by the way.”

“That’s weird. Stop staring at me while I’m studying.”

“But I like looking at you all concentrated.” 

Laurent ignores him. “Just shut up. I have five more pages to go.”

Damen stands up and takes Laurent’s book. He holds it up above his head. Laurent rolls his eyes but doesn’t stand up.

“Give it back to me right now.” He crosses his arms like a stubborn child.

“Nope. You can try to grab it though.” The real stubborn child says.

“Just because you’re half a foot taller than me, doesn’t mean I can’t reach it.”

“Bet.” 

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Damen.”

“I’m not playing. Take a break.”

“Dude, I wanna sleep too. Just let me finish.”

“Dude?” Damen says, offended. Laurent ignores his tone again. He stares at Damen with eyebrows raised, trying to be intimidating, knowing well that it won’t work on Damen. “Fine. If you go to bed I’ll give it back to you. Even if you look super sleepy.”

“I’m not sleepy.” Just as Laurent finishes the last word, he yawns. 

Damen raises his eyebrows at him. “Thirty-eight.”

“Ha ha. Give me back the book.”

“When you go to bed.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Damen falls back on Laurent’s bed. Maybe if he offered something else, Laurent might say yes. Maybe Laurent is just tired. 

“You gotta get this book one way or another.” Damen shrugs. 

Laurent stubbornly stays on his chair, staring daggers at Damen. What the hell is his problem? He didn’t ask him to stay up with him, he told him not to!

Laurent watches Damen flip through the book, knowing he hates it because he’s going to lose his spot. Still, he notices how Damen's index finger remains on the page he’s reading. It’s sweet, but Damen still sucks for making him take a break.

“Ugh.” Annoyed, Laurent stands and goes beside his bed. “I’m here. Hand it back.” 

“I have an idea.” Damen answers, not looking at him.

“Damen.” Laurent says, getting more aggravated by the second.

“Look, your eyes are so tired right now.”

“You’re not looking at me, and I can’t see my own eyes.”

Damen ignores him. “Did you even sleep last night?”

Laurent flushes when he remembers the reason why he hasn't slept well at all yet. It’s because of this annoying, clueless brute lying on his bed and he doesn’t even know! All the hours he spends pining for him, yet this is all that ever happens to them. 

“See? You haven’t.” Damen answers, interpreting Laurent’s expression as guilt and embarrassment. “Lie down right now and close your eyes.”

“Stop telling me what to do. I have to finish studying.” 

Laurent can just take the book, but he knows Damen will pull him and force him to lie down. God, if only Damen is going to do that for other reasons, he’d have done it the moment Damen told him to go to bed.

“I’ll read it to you.” 

“You’re going to what?” Laurent asks, genuinely taken aback.

“I'm gonna read to you while you rest your eyes. Saves time. You rest while you still learn. It’s a win-win.” Damen looks at him and smiles expectantly.

“That’s stupid, Damen. It’s five pages long. And it won’t go into my brain.” Laurent is exasperated. He’s losing patience. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s still keeping up this conversation. He could kick out Damen anytime. This is his house.

“Yes it would. You take in everything you hear fast.” Laurent opens his mouth to spit a vicious remark but Damen talks first. “Just let me help you. Please.”

Laurent closes his eyes, trying so hard, even though he doesn’t know why, to keep calm. He equally hates and loves Damen for making him take a break and for offering to read five pages of the reproductive system. He grits his teeth because he’s going to say yes, and he’s going to hear Damen talk about sex and sex parts without knowing what it will do to Laurent.

“You’re so annoying.” Laurent sits on the bed. Damen scoots to give him space with a wide smile on his face. “Why can’t I say no to you?” 

“It’s because secretly you really like me.”

He wants to strangle Damen. He wishes he could shake him and look him in the eye and scream “YES I FUCKING DO. DO YOU LIKE ME BACK, ASSHOLE?” Fuck him. It’s true. It’s so true, but Laurent is never going to admit that… first.

“Just read. Annoying prick.” He mumbles and makes himself comfortable on the bed. He makes sure there’s at least a foot gap between him and the idiot beside him.

“You can come closer. I don't bite.” Damen says, staring at Laurent with that glint in his eye, patting the space next to him.

“So fucking bossy.” Laurent says angrily and still scoots over. He’ll get over feeling Damen’s warmth and not being in his arms instead. “If I sleep, you better wake me up or I'm killing you.” 

He huffs as his head hits the soft pillow and his eyes close. It feels good. He thinks he hasn’t closed his eyes to blink in the past hours. 

“Can’t kill me if you’re sleeping.” Damen answers with confidence, settling back on the bed. Laurent feels him move until their shoulders touch, despite the purposeful one inch gap that Laurent left so this won’t happen. Now, he’s really annoyed and conflicted. But he doesn’t move away.

“Give me back the book.” 

“Kidding!”

“Just start.”

“So fucking bossy.” Damen teases. 

Laurent opens his eyes, ready to smack Damen or kick him out or maybe kiss him too, but he opens the book and starts reading loudly. “The penis is part of the male reproductive system. See Damen’s for ref-”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn't say your-” Laurent cuts him off.

“Shh, I’m reading.”

“Read properly, then. And I’m on the top of that page, first paragraph.”

Damen hushes him again. Laurent rolls his eyes but stays quiet. When Damen begins once more, he reads what Laurent told him to. Laurent feels his heart leap at that, desperate to reach out to Damen, put his head on his shoulder and listen from there. But he keeps his hands to himself. 

As Damen reads about functions of the reproductive organs, Laurent soaks in his voice and his warmth. Maybe, this isn’t such a bad idea. He can actually focus better. His eyes don’t hurt as much now, and he can picture the words that Damen reads. His deep voice compels him to listen, and it tugs at his heartstrings at the same time. He can’t even fathom how amazing it is to have Damen read a Biology book to him. 

This can’t be just a friendly gesture, Laurent’s brain nags at him. But he quickly kicks all thoughts of more because he knows Damen. Damen has probably done this with all of his friends. He’s just a nice guy who brings Laurent food and makes him take a break and reads his book for him, and Laurent just happens to like him. There’s nothing more.

He listens to Damen flip to the next page, and shuts off the part of his brain that continues to pine for the man beside him. He’ll take this right now and he’ll think about the repercussions tomorrow. Right now, he’ll let himself feel the warmth and comfort of Damen. Right now, he’ll listen to Damen’s voice, soothing him like a lullaby.

**

Laurent opens his eyes. It’s not dark, his lights are left on, and there’s an unfamiliar warmth beside him, something he’s unaccustomed to when he wakes alone. His head is on a harder surface, not on a pillow but- 

He shifts his eyes to the left and sees Damen's clothed chest. The chest his head is resting on right now. The chest his head rested on while he slept. The chest that’s steadily falling and rising. 

He slept and somehow, he ended up on Damen’s chest. He asked to be woken up if he slept, but he should have never trusted Damen. 

Damen, annoying, clueless Damen, whose clothed chest is under his head right now. 

He wants to move away, badly, but also, he can't. Because he wants to be here too, badly. 

Physically, there were no obstacles stopping Laurent from moving away. Damen’s arms aren’t even enveloping him. Somehow, he slept without touching Laurent, probably because he knows Laurent doesn’t like to be touched without permission. God, why is Damen so?

For a few moments, he imagines this is real. That Damen is his to sleep on, to cuddle with. That if Damen wakes right now, he’ll kiss Laurent sleepily, a lazy smile spreading across his face. So he stays for a few seconds, tempted to move his arm on top of Damen's torso and snuggle closer. He wants this to be what they are. But it’s not.

Before Laurent could do anything that he can’t explain to Damen without spilling his heart open, he sighs and prepares to move away. He no longer wants to hurt and delude himself further. He doesn’t want to think of this as a mistake, but it is. Damen doesn’t feel the same way he does. Damen is his best friend and he should stay that way. 

He moves back a little, but Damen shifts. He abruptly stops moving for a second to not wake him, but Damen puts his arms on top of him and brings him closer. 

“Don’t go.” A sleepy voice whispers as a kiss is pressed on Laurent’s forehead.

Laurent freezes. He must still be dreaming. There’s no way in hell or heaven that Damen just kissed him on the forehead, asleep or not. He swallows, too afraid to look up and find out if Damen did this on purpose or in his dream. In this position, Laurent’s head is even closer to Damen’s clothed chest and he can hear his steady heartbeat, can see the rise and fall of his chest, and can determine Damen isn’t awake at all. 

Laurent is going crazy. That’s it. He needs to leave, right now, but he can't move anymore. What the fuck is Damen doing to him? What the fuck is he dreaming about? Why can’t he just tell Laurent now that he likes him too, that nothing is ever simply friendly between them?

Once more, he tries to leave the embrace but Damen hugs him tighter. 

“Don’t go.” Damen whispers again. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot close his eyes. He’s sure now. He’s the one dreaming.  

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  7.4

Author’s Note:  I believe I’ll be doing a LIVE pulling for Xiao tonight around 7:45 PST.  Join me if you want to see me cry from happiness or from not pulling him LOL.  The link is in one of my previous posts.  Before, during, or after this chapter, listen to this song to get a feel of what’s happening!  https://youtu.be/ifQ3JRS4gqc

.....................

The voices never truly left you alone after that.  You were practically becoming unhinged by the endless whispers that plagued your ears, and the quiet of night only seemed to egg them on further.  When you were blessed with their silence, you were plagued the physical pains of the karmic debt and your depression from joining the harbingers.  Childe was obviously growing more and more concerned with each passing day; you were beginning to freak him out.  The Tsaritsa and the other harbingers, however, found great amusement in your...condition.  It was a blessing in disguise; they were manipulating you much easier now that you were exhausted from the sleepless nights.

And it wasn't like you were constantly needing medical care, though you wished they would give you some heavy pain killers.  No; whatever damage your body was burdened with would be repaired by morning thanks to Xiao's blood.  The pain wasn't nearly as dramatic as the first wave, but it was a constant dull aching that ate away at your bones.  Slowly but surely, the pains grew over time.

Xiao made his presence known to you only twice more; he showed himself in the late evenings for brief periods of time to quell your aching heart and mind.  At least when he was able to be with you, the dreadful screams would disperse if only temporarily.  At least when he was with you, you were granted sleep.  Small waves of peace would reclaim you as Xiao watched over your sleeping figure.  

But once Liyue's festivities were underway, Xiao's visits became nonexistent and your mind was once again thrown into deeper chaos while he fought off more demons.  It was the busiest time of the year for both the inhabitants and the demonic presences of Liyue; it was Xiao's task to fend the latter off since the festivities attracted their attention and strengthened their presence.  He felt you slowly shattering, and it hurt him to know he couldn't be with you as often as he wanted to.

One day out of the blue, over a month after you joined the Fatui, Childe approached you with a grand smile across his face.  "Ojou-chan!  Why don't I show you around Snezhnaya?  It's much better than sitting in your room all day."

"...Aren't you always saying we could freeze to death?"  Your unamused expression failed to hinder Childe's enthusiasm.  "Why would I want to go outside?"  The bags under your eyes spoke volumes about your continuous sleepless nights.

"Come on, Mezzetin, it'll be good for you.  You could use the exercise."

"Are you implying something?" You're eyes narrowed dangerously, but Childe's grin only widened when your normal quips shone through your broken character.

"Well, if you ever feel the need to put me in my place, I'm more than willing to oblige to a fight," he watched your expression lighten for a moment before urging you.  "Come on, I'll show you around."

Sheer cold wasn't an issue for this winter wasteland like it was on Dragonspine, but it had to be at least five times colder here.  Childe made sure you were bundled up in a large furry coat before guiding you out of the castle and leading you to a town square that was surprisingly bustling with people despite the frigid temperatures.  Stalls lined the streets.  People gathered around to buy the freshest local food that included some incredibly large seafood varieties.  Others were in line to buy trinkets, house decor, and a variety of other items.

"...A farmer's market?"  Your cold breath of a remark caught Childe's attention, and he turned to you.

"Of course!  Go ahead and look around.  If there's anything you want, I'll buy it for you."

He's trying to cheer me up?  You examined Childe's earnest demeanor as he eyed the fish stall with stars in his eyes.  Can he just pick a side already?!  You rolled your eyes.  Still, might as well bankrupt him if he insists.  You broke away from him and continued down the rows of stalls for awhile, unaware that the harbinger had rejoined you.  

You were busy examining a few intriguing necklaces made of materials you haven't heard of when the whispers of the damned regained their voices.  You staggered a bit only to be steadied by Childe's hand on your shoulder.

Childe noted your glowing eyes.  "Happening again?"  His genuine concern made you relieved that he wasn't a complete monster like the other harbingers.  "If you need a break, there's a café over there that we can sit in."  Your strained nod prompted him to guide you with a hand at the back of your shoulders.

"Hm?"  A strange sound reached your ears, and this time it wasn't from inside your head.  Your feet came to a halt before the two of you reached the building, and you tilted your head towards the sound.  

It was a light and effortless tune that floated through the open air from yet another building.  The melody was slow to build, yet you hung onto its every note.  It took you a moment to realize that it calmed the demonic voices from screams to hushed murmurs.  You followed the path of the sounds until you found yourself in an extremely outdated music shop.

"Mezzetin?"  Childe attempted to regain your attention as he followed after you.  He caught onto the childlike wonder glistening in your teary eyes.  "Care to explain?"

"The pain..." a tear fell.  "It's subsiding."  You continued to stare at the harpist that played her tune at the back of the shop, eyes never leaving the fingers that plucked the strings. The voices were gone, and now you were only overwhelmed with a sense of peace.  

Childe watched you silently listen to the music for a long while.  An idea struck him.  "Have you ever played?"

"Huh?"  You snapped out of your daze and wiped the tears away.  "Um...Granny used to play a lot when I was little.  I know a couple tunes, but--"  Childe walked to the shop owner without letting you finish, pulling out a large sack of mora while he was at it. "H-hey! What're you doing?"

"If it brings you happiness, then I don't see the problem in buying it," Childe argued back after he had purchased the most expensive harp in the shop and left a considerate tip.  The two of you were walking back to the palace now.  He had ordered for his subordinates to take the instrument back with them.

"But I haven't played in years! And I said I only knew a few simple tunes--"

"--Then I will ensure you receive lessons."  He was not going to budge on this, and he made it obvious with his firm gaze.  "The rest of the harbingers made it clear that they do not care for your wellbeing, but I do.  Think of this as a gift and a type of therapy.  You've been down ever since Xiao left you--"

"I left him," you corrected.  And I so regret my decision.

"I'm just trying to prove that you aren't in a prison anymore.  If you want to see it as that, then by all means, continue to be depressed.  But something tells me you want to see Xiao again and find a way with him, no?"

"...Right."

"Then at the very least accept my apology gift to you."

"Huh? Apology?"  You gave him a questioning look, but he either didn't hear you or elected to ignore you.

......................................

Xiao was being as antisocial as ever, but it's not like he would ever turn down an invitation for tea from Rex Lapis himself.  Here he was, sitting just outside of Wangshu Inn with his master in the bright of day.  Aether probably put the archon up to the task considering how Xiao pushed him away what felt like ages ago, but the yaksha decided to give Zhongli the time of day only because of his deep respect for his savior.

"I've also brought more pain killers," Zhongli handed the yaksha a small jar of other-worldly medicines as he continued to fill him in on the upcoming Lantern Rite.  He had yet to bring you into the conversation, most likely to avoid irritating the throbbing wound in Xiao's chest.

"Mm."  Xiao gladly accepted the medication and set it aside.  This ensured yet another lull in their conversations.

"Will you go this year?"  Zhongli sipped at his tea.  "To the Lantern Rite?"

"My presence would only hinder the festival.  Besides, I'm not great with crowds."  The yaksha had yet to meet the archon's eyes, and kept his gaze firm on the teacup in front of him.  Truth be told, he would have gone this year...with you, since it was you who had asked him.  But now that these circumstances have come to pass, why should he go?  "It's just another excuse for humans to discard their trash into the ocean."  Why should he go when it would only remind him of his failure to keep you at his side?

Zhongli narrowed his eyes as he pondered whether words of comfort would aid his yaksha.  "It would be good for you to experience something new after all your years of living."

"I already have," Xiao clenched his jaw, signaling that the topic was beginning to walk on thin ice.  "She--"

"--Is not dead," Zhongli reminded. "Do not mourn for a loss that has not occurred."

"But she's dying," he argued back, finally releasing the emotions he's pent up ever since they left you.  Zhongli's look of confusion prompted him to continue.  "She can feel the karmic debt bestowed upon me."

"When did this begin?"  The archon's usual reserved composure faltered slightly while his eyes widened.  

"A month ago.  I visited her; she can hear the voices of the damned.  She's been in physical and mental pain ever since."

"The bond..." Zhongli set his teacup down a bit abruptly as he thought to himself.  "It appears these side effects grow stronger in the other's absence.  How intriguing..."

"How do we discard them?  Is there a way?"

"Have you not interpreted my words in Qingce Village all along?  Or my words at the Dawn Winery?  I've already given you the means to act, Xiao."

--Can feel your emotions...emotions cannot be permanently ignored...fall on deaf ears...early grave...  Xiao scoffed and downed the rest of his tea before forcefully setting the cup back down onto the table.  "You think admitting my alleged feelings for a mortal human would solve the problem?"

"She's done her part, now it is your turn," he straightened.  "If you fail to do so, I fear she will perish from your karmic debt in no time at all.  If what you say is true, it's a miracle she's still alive.  Your admittance would seal the bond, as it would eliminate the side effects altogether."

Xiao's head whipped in the direction of the playing of an instrument note, but was only greeted with the joyful screams of children running around nearby.  "Tch.  How annoying," he played his mishearing off and returned to his normal sitting position.  Another sound reached his ears, but he neglected to react to it.  The notes are off.

Zhongli didn't question Xiao's sudden alertness, but that didn't take away from the fact that yet another side effect has revealed itself to the archon.  It appeared as though the yaksha was already aware of this side effect.

And man, did this one annoy Xiao the most.  He heard the most random of tunes and chords at the most random of times.  It would even jolt him awake when he managed to fall asleep on rare nights.  It wasn't all unpleasant though; there were times in which the melody struck all the right notes and the result was a beautiful thirty second song before it was gloriously ruined by the musician's hesitance or embarrassment.

He knew it was you.  Your constant need to practice was as pestering as your old daily prayers before he revealed to you that he could hear them.  At least he only sometimes heard the plucking of strings.  As pesky and invasive as it was, your insistence upon playing what Xiao only assumed was a lyre somehow brought a bit of joy to his heart.  It meant that you were doing better than the last time he saw you.

He just wished he could hear the end result and not your sloppy practice sessions.

........................

Only on the eve of the Lantern Rite, several days before the celebration, did he come to appreciate the hours of hard work you were putting into practicing the music.

You had locked yourself in your room again after watching the failed experiments Dottore had forced you to witness.  How many did you see die today? Fifty?  He clearly needed to adjust the ratio of your blood to whatever else he had in that serum he developed.  What was worse was that you were beginning to become desensitized to the loss of human life; amused by it, even. Just as the Tsaritsa wanted. Sometime into the fortieth treatment, your pains grew stronger as did the voices of the slain daemons.

You retreated to your room, relieved that Childe had for once allowed you to be without his presence.  You sat yourself next to the window and allowed for the evening light to illuminate the music sheets the harbinger had bought for you.  Your fingers grazed lightly over the strings as the voices continued to grow louder, absently plucking one of them to ensure that you still had full control over your slightly twitching limbs.  You had nearly snapped the strings last time the voices overwhelmed you--

There's no time nor need to reminisce those incidents.  You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and began to play, the smooth vibrations of the harp humming against your chest and shoulder as the strings were struck.  Unlike your practice sessions, your hands glided over the strings from one position to the next like you had played for a thousand years.  No hesitation could be felt from the chords.  Finally, it seemed as though you mastered this song.

Xiao.  I miss you...your warmth...your embrace... Your infested thoughts soon cleared as your mind drifted to an image of him.  I wonder if he too finds comfort in music when the voices overwhelm him?  For you knew that when the voices grew louder, he too, was subject to them.  The music overcame the screaming daemons, and you were relieved with a sense of peace.  Your fingers continued to play through the music and repeated the song for as many times as you felt fit.  Your aching limbs continued to throb, but you didn't let that stop you from playing.  Your mind now clear as water, you poured your longing for Xiao into your music. You hummed the melody as you played.

One day you'll find your way back to him, or him to you.  Was it okay to allow yourself to believe in the possibility that he held the same feelings for you?  Did he love you? No--Could he?  It was already naïve enough to think he was capable of harboring such intimate feelings after living through hell for over two thousand years.  And even if he did, it's not like you'd live as long as he has.  Would he push me away again?  You shoved that thought out of your mind with another series of chords.

You wouldn't be able to put an end to your feelings no matter what he did.  He was too admirable, too strong, too strict, too beautiful.  He was too kind, even if he put up a front.  You loved him too much; perhaps that would end in your own downfall just as Childe predicted and beat into your head every day, but that was alright with you.  If the voices were to eat away at you until all that remained were ashes, you were okay with being true to yourself until the very end.  Even if he never thought of you as something more than a companion.  And as you thought of him, the longing to be reunited swelled within your chest and overflowed into your fingers.

Your song was your unspoken prayer, your love and dedication were your offerings.

[writefightandflightclub]

Horny Misanthrope (Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Summary: Nathan isn’t the ideal wedding “plus one”. Somehow though, all of that doesn’t matter, when he’s the perfect “plus one” to you. (Angst / argument which becomes fluff/soft Nathan.)

Author’s note: another one that has been sat 90% done in my drafts for an age as I wasn’t sure about it. Could do with a bit more development on it before posting, but, here it is anyway! I thought Nathan deserved to get out of the house for once, and why keep him cooped up any longer :P 

Warnings: 18+ for sexual themes. mentions of fingering; arguing; Nathan being insensitive / an ass (his usual self). Language. Alcohol mentions. Family drama. DEFINITE TYPOS. 

GIF: @twillight​

The only person Nathan Bateman plays well with is himself. Okay - and lately, you. But Nathan Bateman is not the kind of guy you bring to meet your parents, turns out.

Of course he isn’t. What had you even been thinking?!

He looked every bit the ideal wedding date. He looked dapper, suave, and impossibly handsome. He looked adoringly at you. At least, people might interpret his intense, sexual hunger for you as adoration, if they weren’t looking too hard at the way his eyes followed you, or the fact they followed your ass everywhere it went in that dress.

Nathan, however, had spent the whole ceremony - the nuptials of a close family friend- whispering in your ear and jeering at the “embarrassing” sentimentality of it all. He had spent the duration of the speeches trying to discreetly (and then much less discreetly) slip his (deliciously girthy, by the way) fingers in-between your legs, and he had spent the majority of the three-course dinner sitting insulting every single person on your table in one way or another. Including your parents. (Read; especially your parents.)

The worst part, is that he has spent the whole day completely oblivious to your frustrations. You know how he is, of course. He’s... different. He doesn’t see the world like everyone else does. That’s one of the things you love about him, and it’s not as if you expect him to change. It’s just... you thought he might at least make an effort. You thought he might avoid making your auntie burst into tears over her pudding, at a bare minimum.

Were you wishing for the impossible in asking Nathan to behave? Were you being cruel and expecting him to be something he’s not? He simply doesn’t play well with others. Except for when he plays with you... Usually.

Safe to say, it wasn’t going well. The last straw came, however, when the tables were finally pushed back for dancing. Your father had just pulled you aside to ask you what in the hell you saw in him, and then had proceeded to come at you with: don’t you want to find “a nice, stable man” to settle down with instead of - and you quote- “an arrogant, robot-fucking troglodyte? Don’t you think you can do better than a horny misanthrope, sweetpea”? And then, you had pulled Nathan aside, tears of frustration spilling down your face.

You were tired. Tired from having to justify your love for Nathan when all the good things about him were less visible from first impressions, and when he didn’t exactly make a good case on his own behalf.

And then, you were more than tired. You were exhausted. Exhausted because, after defending him to your parents and your family friends, he really had the cheek to come out with: “Are you going to ruin the day by crying right now, honey?”

And, oh boy, that -and the coldness in his tone when he said it- had further tears spilling down your face.

“I can’t help you if you’re going to be emotional about this,” Nathan sighs, trying to gently jostle you towards the restroom by the elbow. “My share prices will plummet if you’re papped crying like this, baby. Why don’t you go get cleaned-up?” You’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time, and assume that was a vain attempt at humour, because, my goodness, if it wasn’t, then hell... part of you is sure you would tank Blue Book on purpose.

“Well how can I talk to you if you’re going to be a fucking robot?” you bite back. “If you’re not even going to try to understand?”

“Okay, so it’s not going well then,” he says, oblivious. “Did your dad like me, at least?”

“That’s a hard no,” you exclaim in disbelief, and all Nathan does is shrug and smile, exhaling an indignant breath. It’s not that he’s unlikable, per se. The problem is, he doesn’t care -doesn’t give a fuck- if he’s liked or not. Yes, he has a huge ego, but at the same time, he’s the furthest thing from a people-pleaser. It barely occurs to him to make an effort with people - anyone beyond you. But you do care if he’s liked. These particular people matter to you.

All you wanted from today was for your family to see how happy he makes you -weird as that fact is- and for them to start to believe that you really could have a future with him. From the start, they’d insisted that you’d never be anything more to him than a fling, and now... Well, now the whole thing is a mess. It makes it worse that maybe they are right. Maybe you don’t have a future with him, after all.

Nathan opens his mouth to speak but by this point in the day, you don’t want to hear it. You raise a palm silently as tears pool into the corner of your eyes all over again.

“No! Don’t say anything,” you say defeatedly. “You’ll just weevil your way into my head and turn everything around.”

He clamps his mouth shut, and instead he reaches his hand out towards your arm.

“Don’t touch me either. You can’t fix everything with that tongue and those fingers of yours.”

“You could let me try though?” he flirts despite how misplaced it is, ticking up his eyebrow suggestively.

You fold your arms and stamp your foot on the floor in frustration. Is he even listening to you? “Nathan!” you plead, begging him to acknowledge you.

“Okay. Okay,” he surrenders, reluctantly. “Help me out here. What did I even do wrong?”

“Everything,” you sigh, tired that he just can’t (or won’t) see it. 

He bristles at that, and lifts his glasses to massage his eyes and brow in frustration with the pads of his fingers. He lets out a hearty sigh, as though he’s tired too. As though you’re not even worth this hassle.

“If this is about your aunt, it’s not exactly my fault she’s such a passionate fan of Donny fucking Osmond. Don’t you think she might be a little overinvested, huh?! Maybe that’s why she cried into her fucking ice cream?”

Overinvested? That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s relentlessly obsessive.

“It’s not the Donny fucking Osmond comment,” you bite through your teeth. “It’s the way you spoke to her. You just...” you wave your arms around in the air, gesticulating angrily. “You’re rude to people. Dismissive. You mocked the whole ceremony, you kept trying to feel me up the whole time, you insulted my entire family. And my dad, Nathan. You made my dad hate you so much that he called you an arrogant, robot-fucking, troglodyte and a horny misanthrope.”

You growl as Nathan’s mouth tips into a lopsided smile.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It’s not a fucking compliment!” you huff, raising your arms into the air and slapping them back down again, defeated, before bringing up a single finger to wag in his direction, spitting your words out now. “And don’t you dare say anything about him being upset that I call you Daddy, because I will fucking end you.”

Nathan supresses a full-blown smile- at least, he tries, he really does.

“Honey?” he says more softly, at least avoiding riling you any further. “You know all this about me. I’m not sentimental. I say what I think. I’m... essentially a horny misanthrope.” Oh, fuck, he’s adopting that, isn’t he? He fucking would. He says it with pride already. “But... is that so bad? Didn’t we kinda bond over our enjoyment of fucking each other and avoiding everyone else?”

Your anger dissolves into tears which brim in your eyes.

“Yes,” you admit, burying your face in your hands.

“Then what is it I’m missing?” he says, sounding as exasperated as you feel.

“I thought you wanted to be part of my life, Nathan. That’s what you said. But... if you don’t want... this? Then what are we even doing? I make an effort for you at all those shitty business galas, you know. And believe me I don’t like the sexist dudebro CEOs I have to rub shoulders with... but I make an effort because it’s important to you, and you’re important to me. I just wanted the same from you.”

“I thought you liked those galas,” he frowns, missing the point all over again. Why are you even surprised anymore, honestly?

You raise your hands in the air in frustration and pace away from him, further out of the view and earshot of the other guests. He follows. By this point you aren’t even sure if you want him to follow.

“Yeah, of course you think so. Because you’re too busy having your ego massaged and winning awards to notice. And because I make an effort. I don’t even make your rivals cry into their pudding.”

Though you admit, even as you say it, that can’t imagine Musk weeping into his dessert because of you, even if you tried. Maybe your auntie is a little overinvested.

“The fucking aunt thing again? For real? Fuck’s sake,” Nathan says, gritting his teeth. “Fine, don’t come to the galas again. Settled.”

“Fuck, Nathan? It’s not about the fucking galas! Are you being purposefully obtuse?”

“No,” he growls, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Makes a fucking change,” you say.

“I wanted to be here,” he says adamantly. “I just wanted to be with you. All this other shit doesn’t fucking matter to me,” he states, sweeping his hand through the air, gesturing around him.

“That’s exactly my point! I’m not asking you to gush over the fucking floral arrangements. We can head back to the suite later and you can bitch all you like about how schmaltzy this whole fuckin’ thing is. But the problem is, I know you can be charming when it’s something that matters to you, Nathan. I’ve seen you schmooze investors, and partners. And this matters to me,” you say, stabbing your finger against your own chest, and then releasing a pent up breath. “It matters to me. That’s all I’m trying to tell you. I guess you just have to decide if I matter enough to you, or not.”

You are greeted by silence as he sets his jaw again, tendons slipping over bone, his gaze stern and impenetrable.

Fucking great. Just about sums it up.

You simply exhale an indignant breath.

You are tired.

Tired of this.

Your body sags. All of the fire saps from your voice, and you reach into your purse, your tone muted and dull. Unfeeling. Like him. Like one of his machines. 

“Look, Nathan, if you don’t want to be here, here’s the hotel key,” you say, slipping the fob into his palm. “Go away if you like. If you don’t want me, and all my human baggage, feel free to build yourself another fucking robot.”

You throw him a cold glance and you sweep away into the bathroom to wipe your tears away, and then to repeat the cycle by crying a few more.

By the time you surface again, Nathan is gone.

Despite how much it hurts you, you smooth your features and venture back into the throng, trying your best to put a brave face on it, for the happy couple’s sake. Nathan’s an obvious miss, to all of the guests in there who wonder why you are suddenly without your eccentric, billionaire boyfriend. But, most of all, he’s an obvious miss to you. To you, he’s simply your boyfriend, and you would have liked him by your side today. Today and all the days following, if you’re honest with yourself.

Still, perhaps he did play best alone. Perhaps Nathan just wasn’t suited to being anyone’s plus one; for weddings or for life.

You plaster a smile on your face as you link back up with an old childhood friend of yours, and leave your personal dramas to one side to concentrate on the day at hand... and, you have to admit, it does go a little more smoothly without him.

***

It is an hour or so later when you catch a glimpse of Nathan re-entering the room, out of the corner of your eye. You are shocked to see him again. You had expected him to retire back to the suite for the rest of the night, and to take the edge off his sorrows with the (entire) contents of the hotel mini bar.

Your stomach clenches, and you hope desperately that he hasn’t, in fact, done exactly that; raided the hotel mini bar and subsequently come back, determined to raise a scene.

You tense-up as you watch him beeline determinedly toward your father -the last thing you needed was for your dad to add “drunk” to his list of unkind descriptors of your man- and you watch the initial scene unfold from behind your fingers; however, you’re shocked when Nathan seems to politely approach the older man, locking eyes with a wide, charming smile. He almost looks... deferential? Apologetic? Not words you’d ever think to associate with Nathan Bateman.

From what you can observe, your father looks sceptical, and appears to respond brusquely at first; but you are shocked when Nathan extends a hand towards him and they shake firmly, as if reconciling. You watch slack-jawed as Nathan whisks your father to the bar to buy him a drink -declining one of his own- and you are especially surprised when you see the two of them engaged in what looks - from a distance, at least- a lot like a pleasant conversation.

You then watch, still slack-jawed, and feigning interest in your own company’s talking points and pleasantries, as Nathan circulates around the room, appearing to gradually make peace with everyone he upset earlier. Even reaching out to others he didn’t speak with before. Chatting happily to the bride and groom.

Has he made a robot version of himself? (If so, can you keep it?)

After a while, he finally meets your eyes from across the room, and he holds the connection for a moment, his gaze travelling over you from head to toe -but not hungrily, like usual; softly somehow, in a way which makes you feel revered and almost like you are floating. Like you are the only thing he can see in the room. The way he’s looking at you practically steals the air from your lungs, and then, as quickly as it came, he unceremoniously dips away again, to continue determindely on with his act of penitence.

Suddenly you feel the loss of him all over again.

He circulates around so many people in the room, until finally he comes to you, with a warm, broad hand resting on the middle of your back. Back to your side. The one person he has yet to make peace with, and the most important.

He comes over to you, looking every bit the ideal wedding date.  He looks dapper, suave, and impossibly handsome. He looks adoringly at you. 

“Can I borrow you, for this dance?” he asks, his usually calculating, inpenetrable eyes somehow softer and deeper.

The look he’s giving you almost makes you feel as though you are meeting him for the first time and being swept off your feet all over again... which, now that you think about it, never actually happened the first time... unless a hot, urgent fuck with your face being rammed into his keyboard counted as romance? To be fair, maybe it did, in Nathan Bateman Land.

“You sure, Bateman? It’s not disco,” you say, your lips curling up into a gently teasing smile as you draw attention to the cheesy power ballad being played. “Sure you’ve got the moves?” 

He simply nods at you, and extends his hand to you, and you let him lead you away into the floor of gently swaying couples, bathed in the fragmented light of a glitterball.

He wraps an arm firmly around you and tugs you close to him, and his other hand clasps yours gently in his as he rocks you, in time to the music. It is so unlike him that you open your mouth in disbelief to question it, and yet, Nathan is the one to speak first, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if his coming words are an effort.

“I’m... sorry,” he says, and although it seems to have pained him, his apology sounds genuine.

“Why, what did you say to my dad this time?” you idly tease, even as you genuinely wonder what he has been up to.

“Hi. I’m a little weird and intense,” he relays. “I’ve lived in a concrete house underground for a couple of years. We got off on the wrong foot, buddy. Let me get you a beer. Tell me more about your daughter. Did you know how fucking much I love her?”

You feel a surge of emotion when his voice cracks during his final sentence, tears gently swelling in your eyes. Sometimes, you just don’t know if Nathan feels things... aside from in the crotch area - it’s pretty clear he feels things for you there. With his emotions, he’s generally bottled-up and withholding, and it feels really good to hear it out said loud like that.

He loves you.

“Were those your exact words?” 

His mouth quirks up and he bites down playfully on his lower lip. “I’m paraphrasing, honey.”

You nod gently in understanding. “Okay. Well, why the change of heart?” you ask him, as he circles you majestically over the floor.

His brow furrows again, and he runs the pad of his thumb delicately along your jawline. “No change. Just realised. I can replace most of the people in my life with robots. But I can’t replace you.” He thinks for a moment. “I need you to know you’re important to me. That I want this. Days like this with you.”

The intensity of him destabilises you, and so you reach for humour as a defence. You throw your eyes around the room at the flowers and the decorations and the whole cheesy spectacle. “You want all of this? I’ll remember to play you some Celine Dion when we get home then.” Your tone is obviously teasing, and you expect him to balk at the notion of any of this. Including, and especially, the notion of marriage.

But, if there’s anything Nathan can be described as -your dad’s unkind descriptors aside- it’s unpredictable. Surprising.

“Honey, we won’t get married like this, give me a fuckin’ break.”

Your heart is beating pretty fast all of a sudden. A tentative happiness is blooming within your chest. Did he just hint at what you think he did?

“How would we do it?” you venture, biting down on your lip to supress the widest smile of your life. “Robot officials?”

“Up on the glacier, maybe. The fucking... bare minimum by the way of guests -if you’re insisting on anyone at all beyond the robot officials, that is. I’ll allow 3 people tops.”

You draw a lopsided flash of teeth from him as you laugh warmly.

“Generous of you,” you say, still smiling, looping your arms around his neck, and playing fondly with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

“You could wear snow boots,” he continues, “and then I could do you up against a tree.” He thinks a moment more. “Would be romantic. In the moonlight, maybe.”

You really can’t help but smile now. Nathan always is a little bit contrary. A little bit different. And he may not be the ideal wedding guest, but he’s your ideal plus one.

“Nathan Bateman,” you say in disbelief, as he dips his lips closer towards yours. “You do have emotions, after all.”

Tears fill your eyes again like jewels- happy tears this time though.

“Careful, honey. I’ve told you- if you get papped crying, BlueBook tanks. Then there’ll be nothing left for you by the time of the divorce.”

You throw him a gentle faux scowl, dismissing his comment.

Happily, you let your scowl fade into a soft, cautious smile. “Nathan. You want this? Really? Us, I mean?” 

“Like I said,” he admits softly. “Can’t replace everyone with robots. Definitely can’t replace you. So, if I have to talk to a bunch of losers every now and again for you...” he nods with conviction. “I’m in.” 

You bat his chest with your palm.

“Nathan!” you scold, earning another lopsided flash of teeth from him, but there’s no true malice behind it. Unless...

Unless you can think of a way you’d like him to make it up to you.

“Ah, shit. Ok, I messed up again,” he confesses, sucking air between his teeth. “Probably shouldn’t have called your family losers. But, honey,” he purrs, and you know that familiar lust-infused tone all too well. You note that his hands have gradually been wandering further and further down your back too - holding you more tightly. “Did I fix it enough for you to let me fix the rest with my lips?”

“Yes,” you nod, your voice suddenly breathy. 

He dips his lips towards yours, tasting you as if he can’t resist you. Kissing you as if no-one is watching. But it’s not hungry, like usual. It’s not overty sexual. It’s adoring. He kisses you and you feel revered. He kisses you in a way that would make anyone looking think the two of you belong together. That each of you is the perfect plus one to the other.

You melt into his kiss, and when you pull away there is a gentle sparkle in his eyes too. Not like starlight; no. His emotions are hidden further in the depths of him. More subtle. More subdued. But still equally dazzling. Something like the wash of moonlight upon deep waters.

When you look at him, hungry, he cocks a single eyebrow at you.

There’s the Nathan you know and love. There’s that wicked glint in his eyes, returning yours.

“Holy shit. Did I fix it enough for you to let me take you outside and finger you in the orchard?” he asks, voice deep and wonderfully dirty.

“We’ll see,” you say, ticking-up an eyebrow in turn, and you’re surprised when his expression grows serious again, momentarily.

“Just so you know. It’s the flowers and the frills and the fucking pretentious shmaltz I don’t like. But, if you wanted it, I’d do it for you.”

“Really?” you say, eyes somehow still shining.

“If it’s really that fucking important to you, then yeah.” He takes a deep breath, as if his next words will take effort. “The idea of being with you forever is... terrifyingly okay, actually,” he says, and although the words were hard to say, Nathan only ever says what he’s thinking. That’s one of the things you love about him.

You love him as he is, and you wouldn’t want him to be someone he’s not.

You scrunch your nose up in dismissal, suddenly knowing exactly what you want. “Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Your way sounds perfect for me, Bateman. Mountain wedding and a bang against a tree?” you smile. “Don’t you know I’m just a horny misanthrope too?

He smiles right back at you, and it’s loving as much as it is devilish. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other, I guess.”

“Now, come on,” you giggle deviously, darkly, leading him by the hand. “Let’s ditch these losers and you can fingerbang me in the orchard” 

Nathan follows you gladly, and his eyes definitely follow your ass in that dress.

He might not be everyone’s favourite wedding guest, but right now, you could care less. He is your favourite, and that’s all that matters.

What’s more, the idea of being with him forever? With Nathan Bateman? Well, it is... terrifyingly okay, actually.

[harold231]

It wasn't real

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Posted: 04/30/2021

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None? Maybe a lil angst just a lel bet.

A/N: I think it might be good? Idk You let me know. But like frfr, don't just give me feedback in your mind, put it into words. Also I apparently have a thing for Bucky in a dotted apron soooo yeah.

FYI: time zone/era is open for interpretation. Bucky never became an avenger/soldat and steve isn't part of this one.

The wind that blew around you was warm and sweet with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers. Perhaps it was an act of kindness from some God trying to distract you from the cold bitterness settling into your bones. Closing your eyes you conjure the very memory that left you so desolate.

The sun snuck it's way through the curtains to illuminate the room, effectively disturbing the sleep that you always seemed to be craving. Waking up is always hassle but whenever you remember that you get to spend your day with the only person who tolerates you and you him, getting out of bed is the easiest thing. Bucky is crazy and the damn boy is never in one spot for to long and he always has something to say, but you can't imagine how boring your days would be if you guys had never met. well technically if your parents had never met.

When you were a child you parents had to move to new york for business and they decided that Brooklyn was the place to be. You had been Bucky's neighbor and the first day you guys moved in his mom had dragged him over with the most delicious angel food cake that he so proudly claimed to have made mostly on his own. He just loved cooking and baking since forever, he would tell you that he just liked experimenting with foods but you knew the truth was that the boy liked to eat and didn't have the patience to wait for his mother to come home.

Only a few years after your family had moved to Brooklyn you and Bucky had already built an unbreakable bond. You guys had found a beautiful cherry tree one day when playing tag and had deemed it to be your's and Bucky's spot. Whenever you had a bad day or needed time away from the world you guys would go to the tree and just pick cherries, in the winter time you and Bucky would lay under the tree and kick the trunk so that the snow would fall from the leaves. It was the place where at only 15 years old bucky swore he would open his own Bakery and to quote him "I'm serving my ma's food my way doll, It's gonna be the next best thing to hit New York."

You were laying on the ground with your hands crossed behind your head looking up at Bucky swinging upside down from a branch when he told you all this. You felt something you had never felt before at that moment, looking up at the wild haired boy who loved to eat, loved his family, and had the most ambition you had ever heard from kids your age. Your heart felt full and your cheeks grew warm as you looked up at the same blue eyes you had know for years now, only this time you notice the way they twinkle in the sunlight and how rosy his lips are. Now 7 years laters you and Bucky were preparing to open the very bakery he promised you he'd open. Banners were beautifully strung along the walls and cute retro china was set out, ready to be filled for opening day. There was no hesitation from you when Bucky had asked you to run the bakery with him, you were excited to spend your days with the person you hoped you would spend the rest of your life with.

At around 6:30 in the morning you had arrived at the bakery but it seemed that Bucky had beat you to it. The smell of fresh angel food cake and cocoa danced up your nose as soon as you opened the door. Closing your eyes you smiled at the memories that it brought back. Moving to the back you grabbed your Disney themed apron and placed your bag and coat in its place before scurrying over to the kitchen while trying (and failing) to tie your apron. There in all his dorkiness was Bucky wiggling around to the chordettes. He knew that you loved the 50's aesthetic so he found a way to incorporate it without going overboard, by adding little trinkets, a jukebox, and even those cute little dining tables. In fact at the moment he was wearing a ruffly red polka dotted apron as he frosted some cupcakes.

Apron tied, you were finally ready to get to work. You walked up to Bucky bumping his hip as you reached for some cupcake pans, "Whatcha doin here so early Buck, we don't open until 12" he looks at you with squinted eyes, "The hell are you doing here so early." "Woah,woah,woah completely unprovoked. I'm just saying cuz' you were the one complaining about the opening time being set at 8. Like damn." Breathing out a huff of air he wipes his forehead with a towel "I'm sorry doll, I'm just super nervous and I couldn't sleep so I came to start baking things. I already frosted the ice cream cakes and I just finished the pies, but I was thinking that maybe we needed some cupcakes too, even though we already baked so many pastries and stuff last night I'm worried it won't be enough."

Setting down the trays you move to hug Bucky from behind holding him close to you. "Buck I know we'll do great your food is too good to pass up on especially when it's free." You place a soft kiss to his shoulder " I promise you'll do great, everything you do is amazing you try your hardest at everything Buck, You've worked your butt off and made mine considerably larger to get here, don't start losing your mind on me now." A cute little laugh from Bucky lets you know that he's hearing you and he isn't so stressed anymore. "I just want this to be perfect ya know?" with your head still against his back you nod, "I just want it to be a special day for my special girl."

You couldn't stop the slight blush that rose to your cheeks or the way that your heart suddenly started beating three times faster. You had also wanted to make him something special which is why you had got here so early. Finally releasing your hold on Bucky you straighten your apron out before gathering everything you need for some red velvet cupcakes. Bucky loved your red velvet cake so you loved making it for him. After hours of mixing, baking, and frosting had passed, you guys were rewarded with a bakery that looked as great as it smelled. "Alright doll, I'm heading out, I gotta go get ready. Meet you back here at 12 , Love ya." He didn't even give you a chance to answer as he ran right out the door. "Love you too."

You had stayed behind just a little while longer as you perfected your secret project. Carefully you added snowflakes to some of the cupcakes because you knew how much he loved snow even if he hated winter, some cats, flowers that reminded you of bucky, and one extra special cupcake. When you finish you decide to clean up a bit more and prepare some drinks for later before heading home to get ready. As soon as you got home you took a shower and did the simplest of make up with a light pink lip. You had decided to wear a dress to match the blossoming flowers that spring had brought. Pink with a yellow lace trim and flowers embroided all over the dress, matching it with some yellow flats.

You had decided that it was a perfect day for a walk so you grabbed a light scarf and slung it over your shoulders, grabbed Bucky's cupcakes, and headed over to the bakery. You felt as if a Hundred pounds had been lifted from your shoulders knowing that Bucky had felt the same way about you. You had decided that you would tell him today with your special cupcakes. As you rounded the corner you felt giddy and you couldn't wipe the smile from your face no matter how hard you tried. As you reached the bakery you saw that a majority of the people had already arrived and you knew that it would put Bucky at ease to see all the people enjoying his food. You stopped at the window, closing your eyes to take a deep breath to prepare yourself to join the celebration.

Opening your eyes you reached for the handle only to stop at the sight on the other side of the door. Bucky stood there arms wrapped around a woman eyes locked on hers as he leaned in for a kiss. It must have all happened in about 30 seconds but it felt as if time himself had slowed it down for you to watch the way he tilted her head and ran his tongue along her bottom lip before finally uniting their lips. Your heart dropped as quickly as your smile did and suddenly you felt so stupid for thinking this could be real. You willed yourself not to cry as you allowed your legs to carry you anywhere but there.

That's how you found yourself sitting underneath a blossoming cherry tree. A tree that held only happy memories because it wasn't a place you could be sad... back then. With your back against the tree and box of cupcakes full of unrequited love in your lap you realize how much you over romanticized Bucky. Opening the box you decide it would be a shame to let them go to waste. The first one you grab has a big red heart frosted in the middle, you let out a deep sigh before breaking the cupcake right down the middle. You shove half of the cupcake into your mouth and only then do you allow the tears to fall. You sat there for hours crying eating cupcakes, watching the sunset, and thinking about everything that Bucky did for you, as a friend. You realize you had no right to be angry at Bucky, after all you never told him how you felt you just assumed that he would feel the same way after so many years. With every broken memory another cupcake vanished.

He was always there for you, when no one wanted to come to your slumber party Bucky did and he even did all the girly things with you. Painting your nails, doing your hair, watching chick flicks, and pillow fights. once he even asserted that no one could protect you as well as he could, when you had decided to go camping with your friend from class so he insisted on taking you himself. Your friend was most noticeably gay so you had assumed he wanted to spend time alone with you. But now that you think back on those memories these are things that anyone would do for their bestfriend. And that's what you realized 8 hours and 11 cupcakes later.

The moon floated above you and as it's white rays settled upon the lake you decided it might be time to go home now. You get up and dust your dress off before leaning down to grab the mostly empty box. Turning around you are stopped again by what's in front of you. Bucky stands there brows furrowed as his eyes flash from you to the box in your hands. "Where the hell have you been, I've been calling you all day." swallowing the lump in your throat you go to answer but are interrupted. " everyone's been asking me about you all night and I had no damn idea what to tell them, but apparently you were just out here being inconsiderate. You go and tell me I can do great tonight, that you'd be there for me, but you weren't." You try to answer him but are again interrupted. "You could have told me something earlier instead of leaving me there like a dumb-" "SHUT UP!" this time it was your turn to interrupt him.

Taking a deep breath you look into his eyes before explaining. "Of course I was ready to be there today, you think I wore this dress to sit under a damn tree? Well I didn't. When I left my apartment I was ready and I was excited, so excited. I couldn't even stop smiling on my way over, but then I got to the shop and I saw-" Immediately you stopped as you realized what you were about to say. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head slightly as if to say 'Hello?' "You saw what? What did you see that would make you abandon ship just like that?" Shame flushed through your being and you could no longer keep eye contact. "Nothing, you know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry I was being dramatic I should have been an adult and dealt with it on my own time. And I'm sorry I abandoned you all, but the night was about you anyways."

"The night was supposed to be about the both of us so it does matter if you saw something that made you want to leave. Just tell me doll, what did you see?" his voice is soft as he pleads with you. "I saw... well I saw you kissing that lady and I just wanted get away and ended up here okay!?" You said it all in a jumble hoping that he wouldn't be able to understand what you had said. But luck wasn't your friend so of course he did. "So seeing me kiss another person was so gross to you that you had to run away, what the hell? are you 13 again?" You hadn't admitted it outloud yet and it seemed that the dumbass in front of you was going to force it out of you.

Stepping around Bucky you pull your scarf tight around your body as you focus on not crying anymore until you get home. You distract yourself by thinking of all the love you saw in all the little things Bucky did for you. Dancing around the newly furnished bakery body against body as frank sinatra brought you heart to heart, watching rom-coms and ugly crying together, but by the time you get home you force yourself to face the ugly truth. The Love was always in your head. It wasn't real.

A new wave of tears blurred your vision as teardrops fell perfectly to the ground. "It's because I have feelings for you Bucky, and I now know you don't feel the same way." Sniffling you don't bother looking up because your heart is to broken for that right now. "I'm Just gonna need a little bit of time and I'll be back good as new like nothing even happened." Still unable to lift your gaze from the ground you decide to focus on the last cupcake left in the box. 'I Love You' is written in tiny light blue frosting letters. "I uhm, uhh." That brought your attention to Bucky, as embarrassment pulsed as strong as ever through your veins. " You don't have to say anything Buck, It's fine, I'll see you next week, on monday" you hand him the box as you go to pass him "I think you would have a better use for this than me I ate 11 others already so."

Divider credits: @firefly-graphics