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probably-haven · 3 years

Note

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should.

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can. Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it.

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows.

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over-

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings. I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is.

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other- Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action.

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways.

-Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though.

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips.

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself.

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt. - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing.

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth. - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced.

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that.

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead.

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin venti #xiao #venti #xiaoven #genshin analysis #genshin headcanons #xiaoven headcanons #xiaoven analysis #this is a mess i really shouldnt be putting all these tags but oh well #oh wow the grammar and spelling here is truly repulsive #sorry to all my english teachers i have failed you all

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye special — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Walking through the dark halls of permanently stained apartment building, Jungkook finally stood in front of a familiar number written on the text. He rapped at the wooden door a few times hearing a couple of grunts and rummaging from the other side. He sighed. “It’s me, Hoseok, you don’t have to hide the weed.”

“ Oh! ”

A few locks clicked here and there before the door swung open to welcome a light air of smoke mixed with the stench alone that could make Jungkook high. Hoseok gave him a loose smile, holding onto his arm as a wide grin spread across his lips. “You finally made it!”

Jungkook hummed trying not to grimace too much at the smell as the older male closed the door behind them.

“Come on, tell me…” Hoseok patted his back, prancing towards the couch where the coffee table was exuding smoke.

The apartment was miniscule with one bedroom door open on the left and a tiny kitchen on the right with a window next to the fridge. Another one near the dining table. Walls were a gross green tint and the floors a dull brown with black velvet couches that were ripped a little at the edges. But Jungkook could not complain.

“Tell you what?” The younger male dropped his bag on the floor and sat on the couch next to him, burying his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

Hoseok picked his joint back up and hovered it near his lips. “What was prison like?” He sucked in his cheeks causing the ambers to light up at the end before he blew the thick smoke away from Jungkook.

“Like living with a bunch of criminals. What else?”

“So just like old times then.” Hoseok smirked.

Jungkook glanced at the male for a moment before scoffing out a chuckle. “Yeah…pretty much.” Except there was one difference. Every time he pranced with criminals like himself in the past, he was a leader. In prison, he was young, fresh meat. Before he would also come back home to a warm embrace in bed instead of a steel bed alone with a stinky roommate.

“Well it’s all over now.” He blew out another puff of smoke, shifting to rest his head back against the couch. “You can start doing something else with your life. Something different. Not a lot of people like us get that chance.”

For the first time, he noticed a slight sadness in Hoseok’s tone despite being pumped with artificial endorphins.

His eyes flickered down to the coffee table, noticing the burger wrappers and scattered newspapers. One of them immediately caught his eye. Jungkook sat up again, pulling one of them out of the pile, the right corner of his lips twitched seeing the familiar face.

‘ FAMED DESIGNER KIM BELLE RULES TOKYO FASHION WEEK ’

A side by side picture of a model wearing violet and gold ensemble which almost resembled the traditional kimono with a modern, royal twist. The picture on the right showed her. Belle wearing a simple black dress with her gorgeous waves out and a gracious smile spread across her lips.

‘ Twenty seven year old fashion designer Kim Belle takes all the popularity and buzz with her winter designs for Tokyo Fashion Week. Showing her long love for traditional Japanese fashion culture along with an inspiring movement for domestic violence and trafficking victims by showcasing broken chains and kimono style gowns. An elegant mix of grace and fight for personal freedom. Truly an impressive successor to the legend that was Madame Saito and we are definitely going to keep an eye out for more of her daring projects. ’

“She made a big damn name of herself.” Hoseok broke through the thick coat of silence Jungkook had around him.

“She deserves it.” More than I ever did.

The older male searched his expression for a moment, scoffing a little. “Dude, I have to ask.”

Jungkook met his gaze as he leaned back onto the couch again with the newspaper still in his hands. “What?”

“Why her?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you—literally could’ve had anyone in the entire country to pose as your fake wife or whatever. But you chose a fashion designer who barely knew anything about you to begin with…” Hoseok shook his head with a light wince. “What was your angle?” Some part of him did not want to believe Jungkook simply blackmailed someone for his own amusement because he knew the man was better than that.

Jungkook wished he had a decent reason to blurt out to him. Maybe he was just inherently evil and wanted to hurt Belle for his own pleasure. Maybe he wanted to fuck her one time just for kicks before dragging her out a little further until it was too much. Maybe he was just sick in the head, wanting to claim a girl who could not say a word against him because her and her brother’s life were wrapped around his finger. Except none of them felt like the truth. “I honestly thought she’d say no.”

“Oh fuck off—”

“Seriously I…” He shrugged a little. “I really thought she was going to punch me and storm out of there with her brother.”

“But the guards wouldn’t let her. I mean—no offense, buddy but you would’ve probably killed her. Knowing you from back then.” Hoseok scrunched his nose lightly.

“She did something ten times more dangerous though.” Jungkook couldn’t resist the jolt of pride bursting in him. “I destroyed her—so she waited until she destroyed me.”

Hoseok chortled a little, voice incredibly raspy. “I wouldn’t call going to jail for your crimes destroying you but sure…”

Jungkook shared a small laugh, nodding as he looked at her picture again. He could almost still feel her soft skin underneath his palm. How her hair smelled when he would hug her from behind as they slept, the way it soothed him to a calmer sleep.

“It’s a thing of the past though…” He tilted his head as his expression turned a little more serious. “…right? No more pulling her into shit she doesn’t deserve?”

“Yeah—yeah, of course.”

“Good…cause Belle’s the star of the city now. One wrong move towards her, you’re back in jail or worse.” Hoseok raised his brow a little making sure there was not a hint of determination on that young face of doing anything stupid. “You don’t have guards or power by your side and Taehyung isn’t addicted anymore. Has a wife and kid…he’s got the dad anger. So he will beat the living shit out of you if you give him the motivation.”

“I know, Hobi.” Jungkook chuckled, patting his thigh gently. “I don’t want her to go through it again either.”

Hoseok hummed a little taking another waft from his joint as he looked out the window, the sky tinted purple. “Alright. I’m gonna go and eat my girlfriend out.” He patted his shoulder, walking up to his bedroom.

“You had to look at the time for that?” Jungkook winced despite the grin on his face.

“Brother, when you’re together for this long, things need schedules.” He walked out of the bedroom with a black duffel bag putting out the joint onto the ashtray. “Food’s in the fridge and there’s Netflix open on the laptop.”

Jungkook waved him off before the door clicked close leaving him in his thoughts. For some reason, all he could do was look back at the newspaper and try to salvage that warm feeling again. The feeling of a true home that could never be.

Purple faded into a deep blue across the skies as Jungkook paced around the apartment in his bare torso, scattered with more imperfect tattoos. One cellmate liked doing tattoos because it calmed him down so the younger male did not hesitate much to let him use his skin. He was a nice man who had been thrown in jail for being a drug mule all his life and Jungkook could not help but have a nauseating guilt in his stomach.

Drug mules were essentially trafficked human slaves from Jungkooks’ experience. Their owners use their lives and bodies to transport goods without being detected and usually they start off terrifyingly young or desperate or both. All this service was done for almost little to no money. They were more abused victims than criminals but the legal system were not good at telling the difference sometimes.

Jungkook allowed his body to be used as if giving himself some kind of cathartic relief allowing the broken soul to control something else for a while instead of being controlled. Thus his skin now littered with designs of devil horns, tiger flowers and his own personal request was a tiny print font ‘B’ on his collarbone. No one could truly see it up close but he wanted to feel it there.

Chugging a generous sip from his beer bottle, he quietly observed the night sky glimmering with stars while the city shone in neon. The one thing his mansion lacked was the clear view of how alive everything looked at night.

A knock sounded on the door causing his head to shoot to the side.

Hoseok should not have been home at this hour. Even if he was, the man would not knock in his own apartment.

Jungkook opened the kitchen drawer and brandished a knife before making his way over to the door. Another knock sounded again. It was a gentle knock. Almost shy. But he knew better than soften up so easily. Carefully, he peeked through the peephole trying not to make too much of a sound even though the wooden floors creaked far too much.

His heart jumped right up to his throat seeing the familiar face on the other side. Jungkook almost dropped the knife on the floor trying to focus as best as he could. Was he drunk already? Was he dreaming? Gulping down, he placed the knife on the side table along with the beer bottle and opened the door.

When the view became clear to him, Jungkook let out a sharp breath. “Belle.”

Her hair was shorter up to her shoulders compared to the length in the newspaper picture except she still always kept her natural waves. Eyes a little glazed while her flushed lips spread into a weak smile before pressing them together again. “I-I don’t–I don’t know why I’m here.” Belle’s furrowed her brows a little.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiled even though a small tinge of sadness shone in his eyes.

He opened the door further for her to enter before closing it behind him. Eyes flickered down to her grey sweatpants and frilly white socks paired with a thick sweater like she just woke up from a nap.

Belle kept her back to him for a few minutes, pretending to observe the apartment even though she was really just trying to figure out why she was here. Questions muddled her mind over and over again. Any valid or logical answer. There was nothing. No reason to be standing here when she tried so hard to walk away from him. She did everything to get away. Now she walked right back without any coercion.

Jungkook tilted his head attempting to meet her gaze but decided not to force it too much. “You cut your hair.” A smile twitched on his lips. “It looks nice.”

She absentmindedly touched her waves, breathing out a small chuckle. “Thank you.”

“Uh—how did you know I was here?”

“Namjoon helped me track you down.” Belle mumbled, guilt pooling in the pit of her belly going behind Yoongi’s back like this. She still remembered what Namjoon said when he gave her the address.

‘I’m only giving you this because I know you’re tough as nails…no matter what people say to you…but the second anything goes wrong, you call me.’ Namjoon had become a close friend in the last few years. He had been escorting her back and forth from home to work.

Yoongi had been disallowed to see her after being undercover so he could get a proper therapy before doing field work again. So Namjoon seemed the next obvious choice to take care of her.

Finally Belle turned around to face him, eyes raking down his torso and seeing new designs etched on his skin. Not as precise as the phoenix but still beautiful. “The tattoos look good.”

Jungkook glanced down at his torso with a soft grin. “A friend did them for me.” He met her gaze again even though she quickly averted it, plunging silence back into the room as they waited for it to be filled. “Belle…why are you here?”

Her body deflated as the question lingered in the air, lump growing in her throat while her knees kept trembling. “I—” Belle closed her eyes. “I mis—I missed you.” She smiled sadly before trailing her glossy gaze away again. “It sounds stupid when I say after so long.” Her voice kept getting constricted from the lump, tears filling at the brim of her eyes. “But I still think about you…I still kept that—stupid letter after all these years.”

A familiar warmth seeped through his veins knowing she missed him but it still mixed with dread and guilt. Jungkook scarred her memories forever with his presence and she was so confused on what it meant. He could see the way she shifted and looked away as if trying to push reality away but face it all the same. “I hurt you a lot. I’m so sorry—if I—if I could do it all over again, I’d do it better.”

“How could it have been better?” Belle shook her head. “We met when my brother owed you a debt.”

Jungkook raised his shoulders. “Maybe we’d have met at your boutique.” He attempted to smile a little at the thought of just walking into that boutique and falling in love the normal way. The happy way. “I’d have flirted with you a lot and you’d roll your eyes at me. We’d travel together to Paris or Tokyo, explore the things we love and eat ice-cream until our stomachs ached.” A tiny chuckle passed through his lips.

Belle had to suck in her trembling bottom lip as tears began escaping down her cheeks. “And?”

“We’d get married…properly. Away from my family, we’d relax somewhere at a beach.” The visions in his mind played without any effort causing his eyes to flood knowing it was all an impossible dream now. “We’d have children…we’d love them so much, Belle—”

She couldn’t hold in the sobs that shook through her body. At the very mention of children, Belle felt a tingle under the skin of her belly, memories of the aches still lingering. “Why didn’t you just take the money?”

“What?” He whispered.

“Why didn’t you just take the money? And don’t tell me it was because of business or keeping up appearances. Why? Why me?”

The ever burning question. Even the interrogators asked them the question. What was the motive to taking in Miss Kim? A lot of people owed you debts. Jungkook only answered with a vague, menial answer that had no real connection to his deeds as a boss.

“It was—it was just an impulse…”

Belle’s expression hardened even though her eyes still looked so vulnerable and broken. “An impulse?” Her voice was small and meek. “That’s it?”

“I didn’t think you’d—say yes.”

Saying it to Hoseok was easy. Saying it to Belle felt evil. Jungkook noticed the darkness clouding over her beautiful features, a mixture of heartbreak and pure rage.

“You put my brother’s life on the line and you thought I wasn’t going to say yes?” Belle winced, tone rising back to its original power. A harsh slap of reality learning that one of the most traumatizing experiences of her life happened because one man had an impulse decision to use his power over her.

“Belle, it was years ago—”

“So why am I still getting nightmares about it?!” She shrieked leaving a tense silence to plunge into the room while her voice still echoed through the walls a little. “W-why h-haven’t I stopped seeing t-that mansion every time I close my eyes? Wh-why do I wake u-up scared that I’m still in that room w-while they watch—” Belle let out a loud, trembling breath closing her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping to her chest from her jawline as she hugged herself tightly.

Jungkook stammered, swallowing down the painful lump in his throat as he attempted to keep his composure. “You didn’t have to come and see me.” He whispered.

“I wanted you to see me.” Belle sniffled shakily. “Staying away from you doesn’t help because you could always push it out. I can’t—I can’t push it out because it’s inside me.”

“You think all this has been easy for me? That I just pushed it out?” Jungkook shook his head with a pained expression as their gazes met again. “Yeah our first meeting was an impulse but that didn’t mean it was always like that. I stopped a lot of contact with my family when you told me you were pregnant. That letter was meant to be the last thing I said to my parents before we left.”

Belle wanted to argue that he just started getting sympathetic after her pregnancy but she would be a hypocrite. Even she felt softened knowing a child was growing inside her. “You wanted to kill the mayor too, Jungkook, how long would that have taken?”

“Overnight if it meant I’d be escaping somewhere with you.” Jungkook spoke without hesitation, still remembering all the plans he had in place for their move.

“But I would’ve lost the baby anyway.” She smiled sadly. “It was natural causes.”

The male took a few careful steps forward, trying not to intimidate her but hopefully close a little more distance between them. “I didn’t just do it for the baby, Belle.” Jungkook sighed. “I did it cause I love you…but I knew we couldn’t be happy if we were at that mansion and I was still running the cartel.”

Belle sniffled. “I wish you didn’t love me.” Her chin trembled, her body tired of brewing more sobs as tears filled her eyes again. “I wish I didn’t love you. Maybe all this would be easier.”

“When has it ever been easy between us?”

“That’s the problem.” She pressed her lips together. “Love shouldn’t be this difficult. Maybe sometimes but—every single day wondering whether what you’re feeling is real…or worrying that something terrible is going to happen if I stay with you for too long.” Features contorted in pain as she stumbled on her feet a little.

Jungkook’s inhibitions banished immediately seeing her trip slightly, rushing to her side and gently holding onto her arm. Before he could say anything, he felt Belle rest her head on his chest. A burst of butterflies soared across his belly having that familiar smell touch his nostrils and the warmth of her body radiating onto his cold bare skin.

They didn’t say a single word as Jungkook properly wrapped his arms around her body, fingers brushing through her soft hair. Her sobs were quiet but her body still trembled and his embraced tightened a little. As if praying that all of her pain could be transferred to him so she did not have to suffer through it all.

Belle should have pulled away the moment he touched her but the warmth was too much. Her body felt heavy against his, melting onto his skin almost like they could join as one. Maybe that could repair some of the damage. Breathing became steady as she allowed herself to relax. A protective part of her still tried ensure she was not too vulnerable but another part said it was too late.

In this particular weakened moment, she was his and he was hers.

15 unread messages.

Namjoon: How did it go? Are you good?

Namjoon: Taehyung said you didn’t come home last night.

Namjoon: Belle?

Namjoon: I don’t want to have to track you down.

Namjoon: Please tell me if you’re okay.

Namjoon: Yoongi and Taehyung found out, I’m sorry.

Belle: I’m okay.

Namjoon: Jesus, don’t scare me like that.

Namjoon: Where are you?

Belle: I’m still at Jungkooks’ place.

Namjoon: Okay. Is everything alright?

Belle: I don’t know.

Namjoon: What do you mean? Did he hurt you?

Belle: No.

Namjoon: Just tell me what happened.

Namjoon: Look I’m not Yoongi or Taehyung. I won’t get mad, alright? You can tell me.

Belle: I slept with him.

Namjoon: Okay that’s fine.

Belle: No it’s not.

Namjoon: Did he hurt you or force you or anything?

Belle: No, no it was consensual.

Namjoon: Then I don’t see an issue.

Belle: How?

Namjoon: Considering he’s a former drug lord, I expected far worse things done to you then you two just consensually having sex.

Belle: Are they really angry?

Namjoon: I’ll handle Yoongi and Angel’s handling Taehyung. They’re grown men, they’ll get over it.

Namjoon: Just come back up again.

Belle: Okay. Thank you, Joon.

Namjoon: Anytime.

Belle let out a sigh, chest falling a little as she hugged her phone for a moment before placing it on the nightstand. Eyes scanned the ceiling, a few brownish stains here and there but nothing far too putrid. Her old apartment usually had those stains after a storm. She felt Jungkook shift a little, his arm still resting over her body while his face buried into her neck. It was so easy allowing the warmth to coat their little bubble.

Except it was not a bubble of theatrics. She was not pretending to be Mrs. Jeon anymore. She was a fashion designer with her boutique and Jungkook was a regular man trying to get by in the city. They were two normal people with no real threat to be together but they were here.

The ache between her legs still pulsed a little when she remembered the night before.

The very minute she resorted to hugging him, Belle knew it was going to be difficult to turn back from it. Deep recesses of her mind surfacing up to whisper in her ear that it would be okay just this once.

To feel him again.

To have his head between her legs at this moment, kissing and nibbling on all her sensitive nub while his fingers pads dug into her thighs. Jungkook took his time. Licking a stripe tantalizingly slow, tasting her juices until it was the only remnant on his tongue. He let out a breath through his nose as his lips wrapped fully around her clit, suckling passionately until her thighs closed up around his head only making him moan.

Belle whined against the vibrations on her aching, sensitive skin as her fingers found themselves knotting in his hair. Chest rising and falling she faced the ceiling. Lower belly burned and tightened as Jungkooks’ movement did not falter, shaking his head a little to jolt more of that head-spinning heat.

…

Bed creaked as Belle straddled him, bouncing at a steady pace while her hands rested on his torso. Moonlight painted her sweat glistening skin through the window. As if the whole city could see her relishing in her own guilty pleasure. Except the guilt was nowhere to be found.

His hand trailed up her abdomen to cup her breasts gently, digging a little into her tender skin to earn a small whimper from the woman. Then he moved up to her neck. Jungkook cupped the side, thumb tracing her bottom lip while the other hand gripped at her shaking hips.

Belle suckled on his digit muffling her moans all the while clenching tightly around his member until it sent shivering tingles up her spine. She hummed in satisfaction as Jungkook groaned at the pressure.

“You feel so good.” He pushed in his thumb a little further watching her slightly drenched curls fall over her face. A smile curled up at the corner of his lips hearing the sinfully loud squelch sounds their thrusts emitted. “So fucking beautiful.” Jungkook whispered. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, wanting to take every second of how she tried to suck on his skin harder every time she dropped down roughly.

“I’m close.” Belle’s words were a little muddled against his thumb. Her thrusts grew desperate and relentless, pussy squelching violently as their incessant moans swirled in the sex scented air.

Bursts of searing heat and unbridled pleasure shook through their limbs, pulsing through her veins as Belle’s movements became sloppy. Jungkook had his head pressed deep against the pillow as his muscles tensed feeling her walls clench around him before he pulled himself out, release spewing out onto his belly. Belle cheekily reached down to touch his reddened member, giggling lightly when he jerked against it.

Jungkook followed with a breathless chuckle of his own as she rested back on his chest, uncaring of how messy they were.

It was the first time they laughed after sex.

Granted it was not much but last night gave her a dreamless sleep. A welcomed type of sleep. They cried, hugged, moaned and laughed. So many sensations all at once was bound to make anyone have such a deep sleep that they do not want to wake up the next day. A wonderful feeling. It would be temporary before her other dreams settle in again but Belle was not going to let them get to her this morning. She wanted to relish in this new, momentary peace.

Jungkook began stirring more, light hum under his breath until he finally opened his eyes to a calming sight. Tired vision still a little blurred but he could always make out her face. “Sleep well?” His voice grumbled despite the smile creeping on his lips.

Belle turned to meet his gaze, mimicking his gentle smile. “Really well.” The curl slowly disappeared from her lips as reality seeped through their comfort. “We can’t see each other anymore. You know that, right?”

He nodded although solemnly. “I know.” Whatever red string they forced themselves to tie around their pinky finger had to separate one day. Even when reluctance settled in. “Like you said, love shouldn’t be as difficult as ours was.” Jungkook shifted so he lay down his back, one arm curled so he could rest his head on top of it.

“I don’t have to leave now though.”

“What, you want more?” Jungkook licked the inside of his cheek as a smirk formed, one of his hands reaching out to gently touch her lower belly.

Belle pushed his hand away with a chuckle. “No…I meant something else.” She pulled the sheets up to cover herself a little, goosebumps forming on her skin when the room brushed a little cold. “Ice-cream. We could get ice-cream.”

A jolt of nostalgia burst through him as he remembered the last time that request was passed between them. Despite expecting a child back then, Jungkook preferred this more knowing Belle was sitting here by her own volition. That was what mattered most. “Yeah…we can get ice-cream.”

Tiny slab of pink and mint down the food line of the city. Belle somehow managed to make his black T-shirt and her sweatpants look strangely put together while he buried himself in his hoodie. They walked inside the cute parlor immediately greeted by a kind boy at the counter.

Making their orders, the couple took their ice-cream cups to a booth at the corner.

Thankfully the parlor was empty since no one bought ice-cream this early in the morning so it would be difficult for them to be spotted.

Journalists eventually grew bored of doing stories on Jungkook and Belle’s ‘tragic love story’ but she knew the moment, a single person saw them, it would be chaos.

“Did you have any trouble these few years?” Jungkook asked feeling a sense of joy in his mouth as the sweet taste touched his tongue.

Belle shrugged lightly. “Apparently there was a hired hitman for a while but he was quickly detained. Then a stalker which lasted for a few months.”

“What did he want?”

“Namjoon found out he was a spy for a gang called Pogpungu Pa.”

“Fucking tongue twister.” Jungkook scoffed. “They wanted a large percentage of my cocaine supplies in exchange for prostitutes.” He waved his spoon. “Told him I didn’t work in that line of business so the Don got pissed.”

“Well he’s also detained. Namjoon’s been very quick in dealing with them. Probably happy to be out on the field again with Yoongi still at his desk.” Belle suckled the remnants of brownie bits from her spoon.

“Why is he at his desk?” His brows furrowed.

“Standard procedure, I guess. Every detective is meant to have a few months of therapy and leave from field work. But I’m pretty sure it’s a new thing that the mayor advised.”

“They’ve been doing a lot of things.”

“A lot of good things.” Belle corrected, narrowing her gaze even though her expression was not completely serious.

Jungkook smiled lightly picking up another small scoop of his ice-cream. “You’ve been doing a lot of good things. The Tokyo fashion week.”

Her eyes almost immediately lit up when the topic was mentioned and Jungkook couldn’t help but feel accomplished that he initiated it. “You knew about that?”

“Saw it in the newspaper. It looked good.”

Belle grinned from ear to ear, eyes shining in the bright lights of the parlor. “Angel helped me with the movement. She wanted to create a shelter for domestic violence victims like her. So I offered to promote it in the fashion shows.”

“Oh yeah Hoseok told me…Taehyung and Angel, they have a kid, right?”

“Yeah…” She giggled lightly. “A little baby daughter.”

“That’s good.” Jungkook nodded with a wide smile. “He’s all okay now?”

“Clean and sober for four years. He—relapsed another time but when they got married and then started trying for children, he never went back again.” Belle murmured still remembering the happiest look on Taehyung’s teary eyed face when he first held his baby. That was all she ever wanted for her brother. True happiness. “I kind have you to thank for that.”

He hummed in disapproval. “Don’t, please—the way I did it was wrong.”

“Yes but everything happens for a reason. I think if that didn’t happen…he might not be here at all.” Belle shook his head. “He also did technically meet Angel in the Sangria House. The only reason we even had her booked was because I met Seokjin at the party with you.”

Strange how time fools you in that way. It makes you feel regretful of the bad things that happened in the past except you could not possibly take them back because it would mean diminishing the good things along with it. Delicate and strange thing time was.

“I would’ve never been free from that place if you didn’t go behind my back.” Jungkook smiled down at the cup. “I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“Speaking of which…how is it like being a normal joe in the city?” Belle asked with a cheeky glint in her eye as she tapped her fingers against the ice-cream cup.

“Apparently you have to pay for grocery bags now.” He waved his spoon around.

“Yes for recycling and it’s been happening for a very long time.” She smiled.

His bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. “Not from what I remember.”

“Since when have you ever shopped for groceries?”

Jungkook scrunched his nose a little poking into the mint chocolate ice cream to pick out the chips. “Since yesterday.” He mumbled. “But I’m happy…” He nodded letting his words linger in their comfortable silence. “Or at least now I can do things that make me happy.”

“You could travel to Tokyo and Paris, eat ice-cream until your stomach aches…” Belle grinned. “You can get married to someone you love dearly and have lots of children. No more deals though.” She raised her index fingers as a warning.

Jungkook laughed. “No more deals, I promise.” He mixed around his melting ice-cream for a bit enjoying the little swirl. “What about you? What’re you going to do?”

“My therapist said I should take some time off from the boutique when I get the chance.” Belle quoted her therapist mostly but she never really thought about the prospect on her own until she discussed it with Yoongi. “Yoongi suggested we could go to Norway to disconnect for a little while.”

“Yoongi…wait, are you two—”

“No, silly. As friends.”

“Ah.”

“You think if I had a boyfriend like Yoongi, I’d sleep with you again?” Belle scoffed even though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Hey I’m pretty tempting.”

“Not that tempting.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose at her before chuckling as he practically slurped on his ice-cream at this point.

The couple sat in silence for a few moments finishing their breakfast desserts, unable to keep smiles off their faces.

“We go our separate ways now, yeah?” He spoke the truth this time. The satisfaction in his belly along with the warmth in his heart softly stating to him that it was time.

Belle smiled, a slight twinge in her chest but nothing compared to the relief brewing inside. A whisper in her ear telling her it was okay. It was okay to move on. “Yeah. No more looking back.”

Throwing their empty ice-cream cups away, the pair walked out of the parlor towards Belle’s car. Jungkook’s apartment was a few minutes’ walk away. She wanted to drive because it made it that little bit easier to go back home immediately. At this point, they both deserved one thing to be easy.

Belle gave him one final smile before climbing into the car and driving away.

Jungkook didn’t wait a second as he turned on his heel and walked back to his apartment.

This was the true final time they saw each other. They would not turn back. There was no need to anymore.

As soon as Jungkook walked into the room, it smelled a whole lot more different than it did the first time. The only smoke emitting was from the pan exuding a warm, delicious scent. Morning sun beaming through the windows making it look a tad bit brighter and the floors almost shone clean now.

“There you are!” Hoseok announced with a grin. “Did you go out for a jog?”

“Yeah…a little bit.” He answered absentmindedly.

A figure with short, black hair stood at the kitchen counter setting some bacon and eggs up on the plate. She looked up and immediately give him a similar bright smile as Hoseok.

“Ah—this is Rosyne.” Hoseok touched the womans’ shoulder. “Rosyne, Jungkook.” He gestured over to the younger male.

The two exchanged greetings before Hoseok invited him over to the kitchen counter to have breakfast. He wanted to tell them that his stomach was a little full from the ice-cream. But it felt so peaceful when he saw the giggles shared between them while eating, random conversations that no one really cared about but it made them smile.

Jungkook stayed still for a moment watching them so easily be vulnerable and happy around each other. “Hey, you guys want to go to Paris?” He sat down on one of the stools.

Rosyne’s eyes widened a little as the request lingered in the air while Hoseok looked amused but taken aback at the same time.

“Why the sudden interest?” Hoseok chuckled, sticking his fork into some scrambled eggs.

He shrugged. “Might be cool to disconnect for a little while.”

“Prison wasn’t disconnecting enough?”

Jungkook nudged his arm with a light scoff. “You know what I mean. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’ve—always wanted to see the Louvre in real life.” Rosyne raised her shoulders, giving Hoseok an adorable smile.

“Don’t spoil him, Ros.” Hoseok glanced at the both of them for a few moments before letting out a defeated sigh. “We’ll think about it.”

Jungkook did not argue any further after that and began taking careful bites of the breakfast even though it might give him a stomach ache later. The thought of something actually exciting happening this year or the next year made him happy enough to keep going on this new life.

Carefully padding into the apartment, Belle’s footsteps were soft and barely echoed across the walls but there was no use in being discreet. Especially since Yoongi, Taehyung, Namjoon and Angel were all in the sitting room. Bloom sat on the floor completely focused on banging her little drums that Namjoon gifted her on her first birthday.

Once Angel looked her way, everyone else followed suit. Yoongi was the first one to shoot up to his feet and stomp towards the woman.

“What took you so long?” Yoongis’ words sounded more like pleading than anger. “Are you hurt?” Eyes frantically examined her body until his gaze darkened as he stopped at her neck.

Belle hovered her hand over the patch of skin that definitely had a few purpling marks scattered but she kept a calm expression. “Everything’s fine, okay? Nothing happened.”

“No something happened.”

“Yoongi, fuck off.” Namjoon grabbed his shoulder and led him to the side. “Good to have you back in one piece, B.”

As the two men sat near the paneled windows muttering a few things to each other, Belle caught another figure coming towards her from the corner of her eye. She took a deep breath keeping her gaze on her brother.

Taehyung looked so much taller now. Loose emerald shirt with golden vectors as opposed to the old black hoodies, his eyes were a little darkened from exhaustion but this time it was to take care of his baby rather than an accidental bender. The serious expression on his face added more to the fact that Belle had her older brother back. He was sturdy in his appearance and confident in his stance. The look of a man who had gone through a tunnel of hell and found happiness at the end of the trail.

“How’d it go?” He asked.

“Pretty civil…” Belle nodded, playing with her fingers a little. “…considering the circumstances.”

Taehyung hummed in approval. “That’s good. And that?” He waved his index finger across his own bare neck while looking at hers. “Good or bad?”

“Good.” She smiled faintly. “Really good.”

He grimaced a little. “Gross.”

“Shut up.”

Taehyung could not seem to keep his serious expression as a light chuckle broke out of him, shifting on his spot to loosen up. “But—no more, right? We’re gonna try to get back up again? Start over?” He would be the last person to ever judge Belle for her impulses. What he did know is that the impulses were not meant to be a constant.

Belle did not hesitate to nod. “I uh—I wanted to go to Norway. With Yoongi…” She glanced over to the side seeing Yoongi give her a more apologetic look which the woman smiled in response. “And maybe you guys too? Get away from the city for a while.” She shrugged. “Might even give me inspiration on the new line.”

He thought on the idea for a moment but quickly had a wide grin on his lips. “Angel’s been talking about going on a holiday. We could talk about it over breakfast.”

“Let me just go freshen up.” Belle patted him on the shoulder before making her up the top level of the apartment to her bedroom.

Being the owner of a prestigious boutique came with its perks when she managed to get a big enough apartment for three people including safety for children. It was in the highly populated areas of the city which is meant to be the best area for the position they were in. With Angel’s first husband and Belle’s connection to the Jeon Cartel, the more witnesses around them, the better.

Walking into her bedroom, Belle had one thing in mind before going to shower as she opened her walk-in closet. On the top shelves a box had been hidden under some folded sheets. She reached out and pulled it towards her feeling the light trickle of dust flow through the air making her sneeze.

Sniffling a little she brought the brown box and sat down on the bed with it. Belle paused for a moment, a very light tinge of dread brushing through her but there was a strength that seemed to power through it. Taking a deep breath she clicked open the box. Two tiny yellow shoes on the right hand side causing her to let out a shaky sigh, smiling a little as a few tears filled her eyes.

Belle held the shoes gently, hugging them to her chest before placing them on her lap. Then her eyes moved from the bracelet to the piece of folded paper. The warmth in her belly soared again taking the letter, unfolding to reveal the heavy promise scratched across the surface. The promise that kept her up at night for this many years. How much words could impact a mind was both fascinating and terrifying.

No more though. It was time. Something her therapist said to her in one session Belle would never forget.

It’s never about one solid destination of healing. You will never know exactly when you were healed. All you can know is when you decide to start or keep healing. That is what’s important. After that, everything will flow by you…in the future, it will all seem like a dream. But you’ll feel so proud of yourself when you look back, Belle. Even more proud than I am of you now. You’ve done so well and I hope you’ll keep healing.

Belle placed her fingers at the top of the letter and ripped it half, letting out a deep of relief as she put them together, ripping it again. Smaller and smaller the pieces became breaking off like petals from the already withering flowers in her heart. A smile widened on her lips as she let out something in the mixture of a chuckle and a sob, tears freely leaving her eyes. Teeny tiny pieces piled on the bed. Helping to remind her that they were just words after all.

With steady hands she gathered them together and threw it into the bin under her nightstand.

Then Belle took the yellow shoes and walked to the living room.

The group were already settling around the kitchen counter when she arrived. Angel had Bloom in a high chair feeding her some custard looking mush which she seemed to enjoy though slightly confused by the taste.

Belle walked over to where the child was and gently placed the yellow shoes on her socked feet. She could not help but grin seeing how it fit perfectly. Everything happens for a reason.

“Those are beautiful.” Angel gently touched the soft fabric. “Did you make them?”

“I got them from the market years ago.” She softly brushed through Blooms’ thin dark hair as the child tried to peek at what her aunt put on her feet.

“We were just talking about the trip to Norway.” Taehyung spoke up leaning against the counter next to Angel.

“Yeah, why was I not invited?” Namjoon pouted a little.

Belle stammered, chuckling lightly. “It was Yoongi’s suggestion…we can all go together. I thought you wanted to do field work for the rest of the year.”

“Still would’ve liked to be included.”

Bloom squeaked in response to Namjoon’s mumble, bouncing up and down her seat.

“Might need a babysitter if Taehyung wants to get laid.” Yoongi mused.

“Ah, language.” Angel covered Blooms’ ears but the baby only grinned wide looking at Yoongi.

“She’s not going to know what it means.”

“Listen, we’ll go together.” Belle silenced the group for a moment. “Namjoon forgets to take breaks from work anyway so it’d be a good way to force him out somewhere relaxing.”

“Norway does have a low crime rate.” Taehyung spoke.

“So it’s settled. We’re going to Norway and forget about our problems for a month.” Angel announced glancing at each one of them for a nod of approval.

Belle grinned seeing the group dive into their conversations about what to do in Norway and what hotels to book or the sights to see. No worries of any impending problem or event that could ruin everything. It was just peace in the loudest way possible. All you can know is when you decide to start or keep healing. That is what’s important.

She broke for her family once.

Now she was going to keep healing for it too.

<< PREV CHAP

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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restapesta · 3 years

Text

Fucking Milkovich

words: 5.5k

Five times Ian pulled Mickey away from starting a fight and the one time the roles were reversed.

1. THE STORE

The old lady had been side-eyeing them since they accidentally bumped into her at the wine aisle, Mickey backing into her as he and Ian led a loud, heated discussion about whether or not the Rose that was in Ian's hand was the same one from the gay party they had attended a couple of days before.

Ian was dead set on saying that it was the same bottle of pink wine and that even if it wasn't, it probably tasted the same, all the while Mickey was dead set on proving to Ian that the bottle was most certainly not the same one and that they should crack it open and try it even if they were still in the middle of the supermarket. They were bickering back and forth, not paying much attention to their surroundings, and Mick had backed away from the rack of wines, unceremoniously colliding with the gray-haired lady who was pushing a cart filled to the brim with groceries. It was a miracle the items hadn't toppled out, considering there was a mountain of them. Ian wondered how steadily the lady must've been pushing the cart, and how close his husband had come from knocking it all down.

Mickey had muttered a quick sorry and Ian had shot the lady an apologetic look when she just stared at Mickey and the tattoos that covered his hands and arm, blatantly revealed by his short-sleeved t-shirt. Ian had told him he looked hot in it that morning, so Mickey had kept the jacket off, appeasing his husband's gaze. He felt a bit cold but Ian's eyes following unapologetically as his arms flexed made it all worth it.

Ian gestured for Mickey to leave the aisle with his eyes, accompanied by a sharp tilt of his head -- and they continued their way to the other racks of food and drinks, Ian placing the bottle of wine in their own basket. They weren't there for a full-on grocery run. They were in Costco purely because their snacks and beer needed stocking up, and they needed some shit for the mac-and-cheese Mickey had been craving. Ian had lost a bet while they were at work today so he promised to make him some -- a deed Mickey was quite happy about.

They bumped into the lady once more at the cash register. There were some people six feet in front of them (considering they kept their distance), unloading their stuff, and the woman was mere inches behind them, as if she was waiting in line with the couple, not behind them, pressed close. Mickey shot her a glance and when he noticed her scowl, he gave her a slight smile that Ian knew was obviously not a smile, but rather a 'hello lady I crashed into, why are you standing so close, back away from me and my tall ginger before I tell you to back the fuck away' threat. He had a feeling the lady caught on to what Ian did, but chose not to comply, considering how her scowl deepened and how she seemed to press impossibly closer.

Mickey and Ian shared a look but kept their mouths shut, preparing to unload their shit onto the moving thingy -- but then the old bat spoke.

"Least you could do is let me cut the line." She was looking straight at Mickey, and to Ian, judging by the look on his husband's face, it seemed as if he was considering it. But when his gaze swept over the pile in her cart -- the one almost spilling over -- he simply shrugged, "No. I couldn't."

Mickey kept unloading the few items they did have, and Ian followed his lead, but the lady was persistent. "You are very unkind."

Mickey simply muttered an 'uh-uh' as he grabbed the money out of his jacket.

"You should be ashamed."

Mickey rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb and Ian knew that signaled danger, so he pushed him lightly with his shoulder, gesturing for him to pay. Mickey obliged begrudgingly, choosing to ignore the bitch. The cashier was just finishing placing their shit into the plastic bag, handing it to Ian, also handing Mickey back the change. They were going to leave the place unscathed.

Too bad the bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"You should put a leash on him."

Before Mickey had a chance to jump her and gauge her eyes out, Ian wrapped his hands around his torso and pushed him towards the door of the store, whispering 'calm the fuck down' to him curtly, the grocery bag in his hand making it harder to sustain his husband. It wasn't the first time he had done this, and he doubted it would be the last. It was somewhat of a struggle but Ian managed. He also tried to ignore the look of pure horror on the grandma's face.

When he was finally able to get Mickey through the door -- while the guy spewed graphic insults at the hag -- he let go, making sure to keep him a safe distance away from the store.

"What the fuck is it with old bitches being so fucking rude?" Mickey muttered loudly, grabbing the bag out of Ian's hand and pulling out the Rose. He opened the bottle easily and took a long gulp, emptying a third of the bottle with it. His face scrunched up immediately. "I fucking told you it wasn't the same one!"

Ian just shook his head.

Fucking Milkovich.

2. THE JOB

The day had been pretty slow. They had their regular cash pick-ups and deliveries, and they had finished most of them, considering how the day was nearing its end. Both Ian and Mickey were ready to get back home and crash on the couch, maybe down a beer or two, and especially take off the uniforms that had truly made them sweat today. Spring was coming, and fuck if Ian wasn't ready for the onslaught of discomfort the camo brought on with it. Mickey didn't look like he minded it much, but Mickey was Mickey, so it wasn't a surprise. Ian, on the other hand, was already considering alternatives.

They were delivering their last bags of weed, taking a long ass drive to fucking HerbalCare, knowing it would take them a while to get back home too -- but the Northsiders that owned the place were kind of their regulars, so they were used to it.

Both Ian and Mickey expected the usual chick to show up and pick up the marijuana when they eventually got to the place -- the one with the curly red hair and a sassy attitude -- but instead, an unknown guy did with a large-ass man following shortly behind.

The first guy looked like any other -- casual clothing, friendly face, easy demeanor -- unlike -- what Ian supposed was -- his bodyguard. He looked like a capo with his broad shoulders, tight black shirt, tattoos littering his body, head cleanly shaved. Ian glanced reluctantly at his own thug, mentally praying Mickey had a bullet that could take down the motherfuckers in front of them if necessary.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" The normal-looking one spoke.

Mickey nodded, also slightly taken aback, but not letting it show. "We have a delivery for HerbalCare." He glanced at Ian. "For Dina? Wasn't it?"

Ian nodded slowly, assessing the situation.

"I'll take it from here." The guy responded, eyeing Mickey up and down. "Dina is currently busy at the moment." Mickey didn't seem too happy with the asshat's statement. Ian wasn't either, naturally. The man had an odd vibe to him -- he seemed on edge despite his cool facade, and Ian saw straight through it. He glanced at Mickey who seemed to have been noticing the same thing. They were not handing shit over to these assholes. There's a certain trust you had to earn before claiming a couple of thousand dollars worth of weed from Gallavich Security.

"How 'bout I just speak to Dina, yeah?" Mickey's voice was calm and eery -- he was in boss mode. The mode that even scared Ian, sometimes. It was dangerous territory these guys were treading on if Mickey had resorted to going into the mode only slightly less scary than Milkovich thug mode.

The dude, still nameless, smiled without humor. "Why don't you just give me the weed, huh?"

Mickey pulled out his gun swiftly, pointing it straight at the guy's head. The shock on his face only lasted for a moment before it turned into a smirk. The capo next to him pulled out his own, only slightly smaller than Mickey's, pointing it at Mickey's head.

Well, shit.

Ian pulled out the gun from his waistband, feeling slightly worried for his and his husband's safety, pointing it at the tall-ass man. It was like a scene from a movie. A poor, shitty-quality one.

"How about we all just put down our guns and we'll come back when Dina gets here?" Ian's voice was smooth and the silence hung lowly over them for a couple of moments. Ian was never a gun sort of guy, but rather a talk-it-out one.

They eventually all put down their guns, albeit reluctantly.

"Okay, then. Guess we'll be seeing you." The guy muttered as he turned his back to Ian and Mickey, capo following behind, shooting them a glare. Their movements were slow and deliberate, but eventually, when they were a safe distance away, the capo turned around and shot them the middle finger.

Ian was just barely in time to stop Mickey before he leaped out to kill the motherfucker.

He wrapped his arms around him like a boa constrictor, attempting to stop him from committing homicide. As always, it took a while.

Mickey growled after a minute or two, finally calming down, glaring at the spot the asshole thieves were a few moments before. "Oh, you fucking will be seeing me. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares, you motherfuckers."

Ian barely contained himself from rolling his eyes.

Fucking Milkovich.

3. THE ALIBI

Ian had been nursing a beer for the past hour while his worse half had already downed three. Mickey was on his fourth glass of Budweiser, slightly tipsy, but not quite drunk just yet as he and Ian enjoyed their night out, something one might even call a date (correction: something only Ian would call a date).

They had gone out for chicken wings, played some pool after dinner -- even took a fucking stroll out -- and now, they were chilling at the Alibi Room, enjoying each other's companies, talking about anything and everything, laughing at Kevin's jokes and making fun of Kermit and Tommy, the regular drunks of the Southside.

It was a slow day today, their job weighing a little extra heavy on their shoulders, but the night was swift, in contrast. In fact, they were having a really good time, letting go of all of the fucked-up things happening in their lives right now, the burden coming off of their shoulders, even for a little while. And Ian was especially looking forward to the sex that was bound to follow when they got back home. Hell, if Mickey continues drinking the beers at this pace, maybe even in the bathroom -- it truly only depended on the level of horniness the drunken state would illicit.

They were still enjoying their alcohol and horniness when Kermit had decided to remind everyone of a comment. Ian guessed it wasn't supposed to be that big of a deal. Both Ian and Mickey had dealt with far worse from people far shittier than Tommy and Kermit. But the comment -- the one about how Tommy was against their wedding, saying it was a man-woman thing -- didn't really sit well with either of them. Ian had no idea how the topic even came up, and the whole 'kind of drunk and talk-y' Mickey wasn't helping the case, but the words most certainly had an undesired effect on the couple.

Mickey had stilled immediately.

It wasn't that big of a deal. Homophobes were all around them, and they knew that Tommy was as gay and as homophobic as any of them, and Mickey would probably ignore the comment had he not been this content with the night he was having.

Here he was with Ian, having a great time, enjoying his life, his marriage, and over-all his husband, and this asshole was going to ruin it with this comment. This stupid, meaningless comment.

Neither Ian nor Mickey lived in a fantasy -- the one where everyone was supportive of the gays and where love was simply love, no matter if it was between a male and a female, or a male and a male -- but sometimes, they forgot what world they actually lived in and in those moments they were at their most vulnerable to these sort of remarks. They cut them deep, Mickey especially.

He was so happy with Ian, so happy with his marriage, the life they shared, that the outside world rarely even mattered. But when he heard someone saying how they shouldn't have gotten married -- shouldn't have been enjoying their love and relationship, shouldn't be where they are now -- Mickey got pissed.

"Oh yeah, Tommy? Man-woman thing?" Mickey's voice was unnervingly steady.

Kevin eyed Kermit, silently conveying the question, "why the fuck would you say that". Kermit shrugged but Mickey only had eyes for dear old Tom. He was watching him like prey.

Tommy gulped, not as afraid of Mickey as he used to be, but definitely not one-hundred percent safe around him either. Everybody knew Mickey protected himself and his family -- Ian and the Gallaghers -- only. Everyone else could just go fuck themselves. Tommy fell into the latter group.

"That's just the way I've been taught. Y'all are good, enjoy your marriage." He attempted to climb out of the hole he had dug for himself but it wasn't really working. The asshole had made it too deep and had fallen into it headfirst.

"Oh, I'm so fucking happy I have your approval." Mickey bit back.

"Oh, no," Ian muttered lowly. "Mick."

"You should be happy I don't have a gun on me now. Now, while I'm on a date with my husband." He annunciated the words slowly, making sure Tommy understood and heard them very well and remembered them for good. Ian's heart fluttered at the mention of the word date, but he reeled it back in for now. He could enjoy it later when Mickey wasn't on the verge of murdering someone.

"Hey man, how 'bout you just calm down?"

Tommy really wanted to die today.

Ian was pushing Mickey out of the bar before he strangled the man with his bare hands. Mickey cursed as they were leaving, resisting his husband as he attempted to drag him out. Ian barely got them through the door, and when he did, Mickey tried hard to go back in.

Ian hissed at him to stop. Eventually, Mickey did.

"I see him one more time, I'm killing him, understood?" Mickey was baring his teeth at the bar as if Tommy could see him. "Him and his counterpart."

Ian closed his eyes briefly.

Fucking Milkovich.

4. THE BLEACHERS

It had always been their spot. From the beginning, it was a place for Ian and Mickey to run away to, not just to hook up, but to escape their lives and the turmoils of their families, each fucked up in its own fucked up way. It was easy for them to just disappear for a while, fucking against the fence, shot-gunning beer with no one to reprimand them for when they left the cans on the stadium, the world completely oblivious that it was the odd duo. Not just Mickey Milkovich, the infamous Southside thug, and not just Ian Gallagher, the skinny army ginger -- but both Ian and Mickey, a pairing no one saw coming, not from a million light-years away.

It was easier back then, sure, but now, it was better. They used to just fuck underneath the bleachers, making it nothing more than a hook-up spot, barely touching after sex, drinking beer like just a couple of friends, not like they were in between rounds, Ian aching for more, Mickey denying him access to it. Ian knew Mickey wouldn't even admit they were friends back then.

But then again, it was different then than it was now.

Now the bleachers were their spot. Not just a fuck spot like it used to be. No -- it was a hangout spot. They didn't have their own place yet -- that was still a work in progress -- and when the Gallagher house became too loud and too messy for them to just enjoy their night, outside of the confines of their room, they went to the bleachers.

It wasn't a regular occurrence, more like a once-a-month sort of thing, but it still felt great and rejuvenating -- it felt like them. A space in the dark where they could just talk and drink and mess around and make out in, unapologetically relieved of the burden on their shoulders, whatever it may be.

Tonight was a night like that, a night where all they wanted and needed to do was escape -- Terry's death was still weighing heavy on Mickey's soul, for reasons Mickey and Ian both had yet to uncover, and the house was brimming with too many Gallaghers with too many opinions and observations. They needed a break.

The spot under the bleachers was supposed to be reserved for them as always, and they had brought along a six-pack of beer as well, deciding to just get drunk, even if they still had to get to work the next morning. It would be a good ending to a shitty week.

But the asshole kids sitting at their spot weren't gonna let that play out.

Ian and Mickey were aware that they were grown-ass men, but it was ten pm and these children had no right to even be near the bleachers let alone smoking and drinking underneath them. They were far from teens and they reminded Ian of himself and Lip when they were mere eleven-year-olds trying to figure the messed-up world out.

Mickey didn't really see it that way. He was clearly just annoyed.

"Beat it." He said in a curt voice, flicking his wrist to point to the imaginary exit. Ian followed suit reluctantly, only after trying to convince Mickey to just let them have at it and go to the dugouts instead.

"No Ian, we came here because this is our spot and these little fuckers need to go." Mickey had responded.

Ian was aware his husband had issues.

He was used to it.

The kids laughed, the three voices laughing merging, sounding more like a pack of hyenas. "Watcha' gonna do about it, grandpa?"

Mickey had a very shitty couple of days.

Mickey was not a well-tempered person.

Mickey was on the verge of killing something.

These kids were the catalyst.

When Mickey took a swift step towards them, Ian was once again -- how many times was it, now? -- holding him back. The kids scattered around, scared shitless of the thug. They were gone in the blink of an eye.

Ian felt sorry for them, but he was happy that, at least, Mickey didn't dump their tiny bodies in the river. Not that Mickey would've actually done that.

Ian hoped.

"I was one second from threatening to eat them for lunch," Mickey grumbled. He then pointed at the free spot. "At least they're gone. Gimme that beer, I wanna have some good drunk sex."

He made a gesture with his fingers and smiled as if nothing had happened. Wasn't Ian supposed to be the crazy one?

Fucking Milkovich.

5. THE GALLAGHER HOUSE

Debbie Gallagher was extremely annoying nine times out of ten. Ian Gallagher knew it. Mickey Milkovich knew. The entire Gallagher clan knew it. But today, she seemed especially bitchy.

It was a Friday night -- usually reserved for a good home-cooked meal, chilling on the couch, watching TV, and just having a family night altogether. Even Lip and Tami were in the house on Fridays, bringing Fred along to play with Franny and Liam (who would more-so look after them than play with them).

That's how the nights usually went.

But tonight, Debbie the Brat had every intention of fucking it up.

She sauntered into the house, bitchiness oozing from her pores, head held high even though it should have been bowed down in shame. She was drunk off her rocks, and she was dragging Franny along with her.

"Hi, assholes." She greeted the family in the kitchen, letting go of Franny's hand, pulling her sunglasses off to reveal blood-shot eyes. God knows where the hell she had been today. All Ian knew was that she left the house sober with Franny and was now completely drunk, if not high, the little girl still trailing behind.

"Wash your hands, Fran," Liam instructed, eyeing Debbie up and down. She seemed even more fucked up than usual in his eyes.

She plopped herself down on the closest free chair which happened to be across Mickey. It was quiet for a few moments, everyone waiting for something to happen. Debbie was an unpredictable drunk, something they were only lately discovering.

It seemed like Debbie had woken up today and chosen violence.

She looked straight into Mickey's eyes. "Your cousin is a cunt."

Mickey raised an eyebrow while the other Gallaghers observing the exchange. Ian was sat next to him. He put his utensils down, not sure how this exchange was going to unravel, also pulling Mickey's knife out of reach, in a way he hoped was inconspicuous.

Just in case.

"She is a self-absorbed cunt who has no business in this house anymore." Deborah continued as if someone gave a shit. Mickey especially.

He shrugged. "Last I'd seen her was the morning after you guys broke up. I couldn't give less of a shit about whether or not she's with you or not with you. For fuck's sake, the break-up happened a long-ass time ago, get over it." Mickey looked down at his plate, continuing to eat his dinner, clearly signifying the conversation was over. He glanced at Ian when he couldn't find his knife.

Instead of moving on, Debbie grabbed a loaf of bread and threw it at him.

Mickey stilled.

Carl elbowed her hard but she paid no attention to the warning. She was having a staring contest with Mickey Milkovich. One she would eventually lose.

"Back the fuck off, Debbie," Ian warned himself.

She switched her gaze from Mickey to Ian. Her gaze was murderous. "Or what, Ian? You'll try and kill me with a bat?"

Collective silence fell over the table. Noone seemed to be breathing. All eyes switched to Ian, gauging his reaction, not believing the words that had left Debbie's mouth, but even warier of the ones that were bound to leave Ian's.

Ian had other things occupying his mind, though, and one of those things was his husband who was probably a second away from killing his sister-in-law.

"You bitch." Ian held Mickey down by his shoulders as he attempted to climb over the table and tackle her to the floor. "You and your condescending cunt can fuck off."

"Mickey. Come on." Ian pushed him out of the chair and shoved him lightly, indicating for him to go upstairs.

"No, Ian. She needs to be set fucking straight, or else you'll have a new Frank on your hands. This bitch." He fought against him as Debbie just sat still.

"Mickey." Ian shoved him towards the stairs, afraid he would have to explain to the cops how his husband murdered his sister if Mickey didn't leave the room, immediately. Mickey noticed Ian's serious expression, and slowly climbed up, all the while muttering to Debbie to go fuck herself.

Ian glanced at Debbie from where he stood.

"What?" She asked, innocently.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Debbie snorted. "Sorry if I hurt your feelings. Not like it wasn't true."

"I couldn't give less of a shit whether or not you think I'm crazy. You come in here and talk to Mickey like that again, I will be using a bat. Only then you'll see how crazy I can get." Ian was dead serious.

It was the first time since she came in that her eyes truly widened in fear.

He backed away upstairs slowly.

The rest of the Gallaghers were silent for a moment before they all collectively shot Debbie a dirty look, soon erupting in chatter, as if nothing had happened.

It had been merely a few seconds before Ian had entered their room, when Mickey finally started his rant, talking shit about Debbie, defending Ian being at the core of it all.

He had a lot to say, and Ian was going to listen to it all, like the supportive husband he was, always taking Mick's side.

As he listened to Mickey rant about Debbie, he thought about what he had said to her. It was true -- every single word that had left his mouth. He hoped she and the rest of them -- no matter who it was -- understood.

Mickey was more important to him than anyone else in this world, even his sister. He was Ian's family, his next of kin, the one Ian trusted and loved the most. When push comes to shove, he will chose him, no matter what. He will always choose his husband, the love of his life, his worse half.

God, he was soft.

Fucking Milkovich.

+1 THE STORE, THE JOB, THE ALIBI, THE BLEACHERS, THE GALLAGHERS

"You really keep me from killing people, man. Feel like I should thank you."

Mickey had muttered that lowly in the dark, his head resting on Ian's chest, both of them naked, enjoying their post-sex bliss. It was then when they were at their most open, letting out emotions and feelings that usually didn't seep into the mundane day.

Ian ran his fingers along Mickey's bare back, enjoying how Mickey shivered against them. "You do the same thing." He answered simply.

Mickey raised his head slightly to look at his husband. "No, I don't. I've never had to physically pull you away from stabbing or strangling someone."

"You do realize I usually get as pissed off as you do at these things."

"These things?"

Ian rolled his eyes in the dark. "C'mon Mick. You really think I'm okay with an old lady calling you rude and ignorant and judging you like you're nothing but a street rat. Or some assholes flipping us off after trying to steal our weed?" He adjusted his arm so it rested over Mickey's shoulder, Mickey's cheek pressed into his peck. "You think I don't get mad when Tommy talks about how we shouldn't have gotten married because we're men? Or how Debbie had the audacity to talk to you like that, in front of me."

"You never react to it, though. That's why I don't pull you away from starting shit. You kind of just stay calm." Mickey responded to Ian's short monologue.

Ian chuckled. "Mick. If I wasn't so busy pulling you away, I'd probably be the one murdering them all."

This time Mickey raised his head to fully look at Ian. They adjusted their positions so it was easier to keep each other's gaze.

"I'm serious," Ian responded to Mickey's expression of disbelief.

Ian was completely and utterly serious. That shit happened a lot.

In fact, had Ian not been so busy pushing Mickey out of the store, the plastic bag filled with shit they needed for dinner and the expensive -- but probably not correct -- Rosè in one of his hands, making sure his husband didn't go to prison for stabbing the geriatric bitch, he would have gotten really fucking pissed and probably have gone off at the grandma himself.

If Mickey didn't attempt to go after the fucking thieves, like the sociopath he was, Ian would've probably pulled out his gun and pointed it at the men's fucking back. Maybe he would've even tried emptying the clip.

Mickey trying to strangle Tommy was good enough of a distraction for Ian not to beat the asshole up himself. How fucking dare he talk about marriage like that, the drunk bitch. Ian would've been a second away from hurling himself at Tommy and beating the shit out of him -- but fuck it if Ian was gonna let Mickey get arrested for aggravated assault and risk his parole.

The kids at the bleachers didn't bother him. He knew Mickey had a soft spot for kids himself, so it was more of a hissy fit than a homicidal fit.

Debbie was the one that truly made his blood boil.

"You know," Ian began. "I would've probably signed a death warrant on Debbie and mine's relationship that night if you weren't there."

"How so?" Mickey was caressing Ian's cheek with his thumb, giving him the biggest case of heart-eyes. Ian didn't doubt that was how he was looking at Mickey himself.

"When she was saying that shit, all I could think of was making sure you didn't kill her. I barely registered what the fuck she was saying. I was trying to keep you from flipping the table and making Franny an orphan." Mickey rolled his eyes but kept silent. He knew there was truth in Ian's words. "But, if you weren't there. If Debbie had just started talking about me and the whole bipolar thing and I didn't have you to keep me from actually letting the words sink in..." He drifted off, not knowing how he would've reacted. The words would have probably cut him deep.

Shifting closer, Mickey pressed his palm against Ian's cheek. "Do we need to talk about how you should under no circumstance listen to your bitch of a sister? What happened all those years ago happened while you were manic and off your meds. Her using that as a comeback in an argument is low and a fucking betrayal. Right now, you are the healthiest you've been since your diagnosis and you shouldn't let her get in your head. Hell, if I have to, I'll fucking try and murder anyone to stop the words from -- what did you say -- sinking in?" Ian laughed wetly, feeling himself get emotional over Mickey's little speech.

"You're amazing, Ian." He finished. "I'm proud of you."

Ian pulled Mickey's body close, making their naked bodies press flush against each other. Their noses touched as Ian took a moment to appreciate what the universe had given him. The soft lines of Mickey's face, the blemishes, and the tiny scars -- the eyebrows Ian had joked were iconic to him -- everything that made Mickey Milkovich his Mickey.

A kid forged in hate and homophobia, morphed by the Southside into a short-tempered thug, capable of murder in the blink of an eye if you so much as looked at him wrong. A Milkovich taught to care for nobody but family, to stay loyal to them and never snitch, but also taught to put a bullet in their fucking heads if betrayed. A hard-ass and a thief, ready to shamelessly steal from any store of his choosing, barely giving a shit whether it lands him in juvie or not.

A man capable of so much love. A man who took care of Ian when he was at his worst, made sure to keep him safe and protected. The man who came out for him in front of his worst nightmare, all so he could keep Ian, even if he was nothing but a mess kept together by unawareness. A man capable of murder for Ian. A man capable of running away with Ian. A man capable of going back to prison for Ian. A man who loved Ian, and would always try to keep him safe.

"You done staring?" Mickey smirked at him.

Ian smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I'll ever be." He then added, quietly, "I'm so lucky."

Mickey nodded, his lips mere inches away from Ian's. "I am too."

Soft lips moved against each other slowly, creating a rhythm Ian never wanted to lose.

He knew he never would.

His life, even after all the worst possible shit a person could imagine, was pretty fucking great. All thanks to Mickey.

His husband.

His partner.

His soulmate.

His worse half.

His Milkovich.

THE END

#gallavich #shameless #shameless us #shameless final season #fanfic #Ian Gallagher #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ianxmickey #mickey milkovich #gallaghers #5+1 fic #5+1 things #canon compliant

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vidavalor · 3 years

Text

Bucky flirting with Sam as part of the changing times theme in Ep 5...

This is on the long side. Contains brief mention of the show basically canonizing Bucky as a sexual assault survivor. It’s meta on Bucky and Sam’s identity themes and how the show is shifting into a theme of changing times with the latest episodes-- mostly about how Bucky’s journey is paralleling Sam’s, even while being a different kind of journey.

One of the more interesting subtle themes of Ep 5 is that while we have had a lot of emphasis in the earlier episodes on how much horror still exists in America-- and a very right, necessary emphasis-- as the show begins to pivot towards the part of Sam’s journey that involves him deciding to become Captain America, they are pivoting a bit to illustrate that as much as many things have, unfortunately, not changed the way they should have over time, a lot really has. (Also, the Sam-as-Captain-America thing isn’t meant to be a spoiler as I don’t really totally know if that’s the ending, it just seems um... really the only place this story is going...) They have been using Isaiah to illustrate this point for Sam quite a bit in Ep 5, especially. The core conflict comes from Isaiah believing that a self-respecting Black man wouldn’t want to fight for America after the horrors that have been done to Black people in its history, which is not something that Sam ultimately feels is true. He definitely feels the pain of Black history in America but he still believes *in* America and views it as his country and is accepting that everyone in it really has a role to play in making it live up to the ideals it espouses but has still yet to achieve. In deciding to appreciate Isaiah choosing to open up to him and share his story but respectfully disagree with him on what to do next-- and to have his ability to make this choice reinforced by Sarah supporting him by saying she knows he will choose to fight in the fights he believes in and she has his back-- Sam is choosing to become a symbol of something, even if he’s just a man, and he’s affirming to himself that it is okay for him to believe in this thing he believes in. It’s okay for him to believe in America and love America and what it stands for, even in all its extremely imperfect glory, because he can be the change he wants to see in the world. He knows there are many people who will support him in that and that it only happens if we make it happen and that America, in all its imperfection, has made a lot of positive change happen throughout its short history.

You know who else is enjoying similar truths in the same episode? Bucky.

Bucky arrives in Delacroix all “Hello, 21st Century! I’ve always wanted to flirt with a man in public! I will be over here, lifting heavy stuff and getting in the personal space of your next Captain America, Good People of Delacroix, Louisiana!” What’s so endearing about this is not even just that this is clearly the first time that Bucky has felt like he has some control over his own mind, after proving he can manage The Winter Soldier in him a bit in the last few episodes, but that he’s working towards this kind of peace in a time where he really no longer has to hide any part of himself. Long before The Winter Soldier, Bucky was so the guy with a girl on each arm and a guy in the dark of the back alley. He has never, in his entire century-plus of living, been able to really be who he is without fear. It’s not as if there is not any fear left for LGBTQIA people in the world because, sadly, of course there is but loving Sam would have gotten Bucky arrested twice over in the 1940s. Interracial marriage was illegal until the Loving Act of 1967-- and that was still just for heterosexual couples. Obviously, same-sex marriage wasn’t legalized in the U.S. until 2015. If Bucky had been caught with a man in his youth, let alone a Black man, they both would have been arrested. Even if they were let go (and Bucky would have been more likely to suffer less, on account of being white), their reputations and ability to work and serve in the military could have been impacted.

The show toys with this with Bucky’s interest in exploring it, even through the haze of a lot of severe trauma, back in Episode 1. While he’s mainly eating at the sushi bar because he’s befriended Yori on account of his amends project, he is living in a very modern existence by regularly conversing with these two. Consider that the show chose to make both of them Japanese, basically to illustrate that Bucky, in a sense, was always progressive for his time period. Bucky *could* have been the kind of WW2 soldier who forever saw people of the countries the Allies fought against as an enemy-- your grandfathers and great-grandfathers who never stopped hating the Japanese. But he’s not. He actually comes off as someone whose inability to fit the mode of the heterosexual white American guy in his own time period lent him a lot of empathy towards others and I might be wrong about this because I can’t quite recall at the moment but wasn’t he drafted, as opposed to enlisted? It’s doubtful he even really wanted to fight, although he’s always up for a fight against a bully and clearly hated the Nazis (but wanting to fight fascism makes you far from intolerant.) My point is that Bucky, back in Ep 1, is already experimenting with how living in the 21st century could be a positive thing for him in a life he might want to make for himself, if he can get through his trauma enough to do so.

He eats lunch on the regular with a man who is, in all likelihood, descended somewhere from at least one person who fought on the enemy side to Bucky in WW2. He regularly chats with Leah, who is completely unlike anyone he would have been able to talk to in the 1940s and seems almost designed to be *exactly* that intentionally-- she is a woman with a job that wasn’t like a nurse or a teacher or Peggy Carter lol. She tends bar, a job that was virtually exclusively male in the ‘40s. She has open visible tattoos and is probably putting herself through college-- something that women were just being able to attend, usually in female-only settings. She makes her own money and lives as a single woman, likely without the express intention on getting married and having a family relatively soon. (There’s nothing wrong with any of that. It’s more just that it would have been the exception, rather than the norm, in Bucky’s youth.) Atop that, she is Asian and works in a Japanese restaurant-- the ultimate business that would have suffered during the ‘40s as America didn’t exactly do right by its Japanese-Americans during the war and if Bucky, a white soldier, had been seen with a Japanese girl, it would have been bad for him but worse for her.

So the reason why Yori has noticed that Bucky always looks at Leah when they eat lunch is probably less about the attraction Yori assumed Bucky had for her and more that Leah is this personal fascination for Bucky-- a human being who is basically the total embodiment of everything that has changed in the world since Bucky was last freely a part of it. Yori assumes Bucky wants a date but Bucky really wants what he ultimately got out of it, which is more just to talk to her a bit.

They also play Battleship, which is kind of darkly funny. The game originated after WW1 and used to be played on paper. It soared into popularity in the 1930s and has never stopped being popular ever since-- so, in essence, the game they play is the one part of this that, like Bucky, has been in existence the whole time. It has taken on different forms, though. It became a plastic board game in the ‘60s and has been modernized a few times but it’s still here. (It’s also funny that Bucky is kind of losing the game with her, symbolizing that he’s not entirely figured out this whole modern world yet, even if he’s very interested by it.)

But the big thing is that Bucky is beginning to edge away from just observing this new world and trying to decide how he wants to participate in it. He’s basically decided that he might like to and while his heart is completely with Sam, he’s also afraid of himself and his ability to potentially destroy that one really strong wish he has to be with him, so he’s pushing him away by not answering his texts. He’s likely also, atop insecurity in himself, literally terrified at the idea of hurting Sam not just physically-- through some nightmare or some untapped Winter Soldier potential or failing to protect him-- but through the fact that he’s a guy from the 1940s who has literally never openly dated a man, had Black friends during the war but that was decades ago and is not really sure how to do this.

Forced into a date with Leah, he experiments with the modern world in a way because he’s here because sure, he likes her and all but he was more just interested in her world than her personally and he just didn’t want to disappoint either her or Yori, so he showed up. She seems fairly trustworthy (and he trusts no one but Sam and Yori, so that’s a start) but what he wants really is to say aloud to someone for the first time that he likes men. To see how that goes in this modern era. (Depending on how you take Bucky and Steve, he could have put this into words to Steve at one point, likely way back when, but it’s also possible that they both just knew and didn’t talk about it. Either way, you didn’t go around telling people you didn’t trust in the ‘40s and it’s doubtful that he’s ever just said it to anyone and for sure not on a regular basis.)

He even knows that this wouldn’t be a deal breaker for a woman, necessarily, in the modern era, which is probably blowing his mind a bit because you would have been hard-pressed to find a woman who would admit to someone she didn’t implicitly trust that back in the ‘40s and it wouldn’t have been so open and accepted. What he really wants in Leah is a new friend and she seems to sense that-- she likes this weird guy with the circulation problem that is nice enough to lunch with the old man at her restaurant, he seems okay enough, if broody and sad, so why not talk to him for a bit? She totally thinks he’s just a closet case (she’s not wrong lol) and won’t really be crushed by him rushing out of the date beyond like “too bad, he was pretty hot” but for Bucky, this is the likely the first time he’s ever casually chatted with another human being about his attempt at finding a guy he likes.

It’s actually really sweet in that he’s still sort of coding it a bit, if not that much. He’s still a bit nervous about this so he’s saying tiger pictures to reference men so he can say it without saying it. Leah gets it and just kind of rolls with it and probably has zero idea how big a deal it was for the century-old guy sitting at the bar.

He might have been intentionally dramatic a bit about how it was all “a lot” but he was also telling her the truth-- he did a little exploring online. Found some men. It looked like a lot of work to stroke all these egos. Bucky’s for the modern world but he’s kind of into more old-fashioned guys. He’s got a warm-hearted soldier kink. Family man kind of guys with generous spirits. He’s considering online stuff because he’s also a guy who has been through an absurd amount of trauma-- some of which the show will just come out and say involves sexual assault, off that Selby scene-- and he’s probably considering trying to get beyond some of it by just having sex with somebody. It’s not at all an uncommon response for people who have been raped to try to get beyond it by just having sex again and you know this is yet another level of anxiety for him when it comes to the idea of having another chance at life. He’s nervous around himself at this point and doesn’t fully trust himself, so he’s not sure how he can trust other people and the one guy he *does* trust and *does* want? Bucky has that whole ‘don’t want to burden him with my own issues’ thing happening. (That’s not a bad thing when it’s a situation of expecting your partner to be your therapist, which shouldn’t happen but Bucky would and should have expectations that someone he’d have as a romantic partner can be someone he can trust to care about him and be sensitive to how his past plays into his present needs, in and out of bed.) He’d trust Sam with this but he also wants to be like... he basically feels like he met the potential love of his life while trying to kill him and just got his mind back and the timing is all wrong. It’s a lot of ‘too broken for Sam’ self-narrative.

Whether or not Bucky actually went beyond scrolling and being astounded at the unattractive insecurity of tiger pictures or whether he hooked up a time or two, it’s clear he didn’t get what he needed out of it and he gave up on it, admitting to himself that he’s really basically a tired old romantic who wants love and trust and the whole dance of things and that kind of intimacy more than the back alley casualness of online dating. This is about as far as Bucky has gotten while trying to deal with his trauma while having a truly terrible therapist: he likes sushi now and would like to have his life’s first real chance at an open, mutual, loving, romantic relationship. He just didn’t know how to get himself there.

John Walker and the shield issues actually, ironically, gave him scenarios where he could, through actions that suited him better than those his therapist had assigned. He needed to learn not to not hurt anyone but how to manage it when he did. He needed to learn how to be a soldier that protects people again, not the Winter Soldier, and that he can control that part of himself. He needed the opportunity to show Sam that he really does care, he’s just a grieving mess of a man working through being so out of time and secretly scared that he might like this time better, might have a chance at being who he is for the first time, and he doesn’t know quite what to do with that. He lets Sam in enough that they can show one another that they understand each other’s traumas. He tosses himself out of a plane for Sam in the first episode to prove he’ll follow him anywhere, that he’s strong and will survive and come back, knowing about Riley not being alive when he hit that ground. Sam responds by seeing Bucky essentially frozen in a PTSD moment of the train car on the side of that truck and grabs him out of danger. They snark and bicker but the actions speak louder than the words-- there’s caring there and want and a sense that they’re a bit gone on the other.

Sam’s trust in Bucky-- even as Bucky is still learning how to trust himself with himself-- gives Bucky a confidence boost that he was missing when he pulled away from Sam out of fear of hurting him. The whole White Panther/White Wolf scene? Sam expected Bucky to grumble or blush, he was for sure flirting with him but didn’t expect quite that amount of flirt back. Without realizing it, he had hit on the exact part of Bucky’s identity that was giving him the biggest boost, that he understood the best at that time-- the White Wolf. The White Wolf is the freed Winter Soldier, a peaceful tender of goats, a wounded warrior beloved by a community who rescued him. He represents Bucky’s recent past into his present-- being able to work for the chance to shake loose the Winter Soldier and evolve into a different version of himself. He wanted to impress Sam with that-- he saw Sam’s flirting and parried back, which he didn’t always do, because he knew it would be impressive that the Wakandans had given him a (pretty sexy actually) nickname. He’s boosted by Sam still flirting, Sam still caring, still seeing something in him he’s working on seeing himself. He has some hope, even as they fight, because his attempts at getting closer to Sam are not being rejected wholesale and Sam keeps reaching out to him, often literally. After Madripoor and after Bucky going after and finding Zemo, he feels more ready. He’s more in control of himself. He thinks he has a path to getting beyond the worst of this stuff and he might not have worked out all the details yet or figured out what it looks like but he finally feels ready to try and since Sam hasn’t rejected him, he’s going to take Yori’s advice, just with the right person and stop waiting around, stop just looking and make a move.

In a way, Sam is introduced to 1940s Bucky for the first time in Delacroix-- this is the guy he saw glimpses of but was pretty deeply buried. He’s not reverted back to the Bucky of old as how could he, after all he’s been through? But this is the flirt, the natural charmer and he’s been set free for real for the first time, without worry or fear that he can’t live a life he wants and be the person he truly is without fear of rejection of who he loves, his family and the community at large. He likes this place that is the exact opposite of everything he’s suffered-- it’s so warm, he’ll never feel frozen again, physically or emotionally. The people here don’t care about his arm or who he loves, Sam’s family has Sam’s big, warm heart and Sam? Well, Bucky’s enjoying making him a little flustered. You like that stealthy White Wolf, Sam? Well, he’s got his eyes on you. ;)

Maybe the best part of this being the parallel to Sam’s decisions about how he wants to identify when it comes to him deciding to take up the shield is that it relates to a sense of freedom that is at the core of both of Sam and Bucky’s stories and is the whole point of Captain America and how it is supposed to symbolize a fight against fascism. Bucky has been told twice in the series that he’s “free” and each were, in a sense, a bit true. Ayo tells him this when he’s free from mind control and that is a major move forward for him-- life-altering-- but he’s not free from the trauma of it. Dr. Raynor tells Bucky that he’s free now and can build whatever life he wants but we see on Bucky’s face how those statements for him, in those early episodes in New York, really are conflicting ones-- he is free from mind control but still imprisoned in his trauma and that is what is keeping him from making the life he wants. Over the course of TFATWS, alongside Sam’s journey to decide how he wants to feel about America as a Black man and what he feels he owes to the country and the country owes to him, is the story of Bucky having to build his own identity as well. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier is ultimately what these guys were-- the identities they still have at the beginning of the show. They’re going to end it Sam and Bucky, Captain America and the White Wolf. Bucky’s real sense of freedom only came when he realized he could trust himself to decide how he wanted to live, when he proved that to himself and took control over it. He’s still not completely fine-- no one really is, ever-- but he has a path now. Sam and Bucky have different identity conflicts but ultimately, at the core, their struggles with them and with what their country has asked of them and with how they want to live and what they want for themselves, is very similar and the core of a lot of why they understand one another well.

It wouldn’t surprise me if we find out that Bucky stopped answering Sam’s texts when Sam suggested he come to Delacroix. Bucky knew about the boat when he got there, the same way that Sam knew about Bucky’s nightmares, so these two were talking a lot, they were friends on a verge of more but both knowing they each had too many struggles to overcome first and I think that Sam had to have been trying to reach out and accidentally went too far. It’s kind of like in the therapy session-- most of the time, Sam is amazing at dealing with people who have been through trauma but he sometimes falls off his game with Bucky. The whole “this is what you wanted, right?” in the therapy session is frustration, it’s pushing a little too hard, it’s snarking over feeling like Bucky rejected him romantically, even if Sam understands why and probably wasn’t convinced they were ready for it anyway. It’s possible that Sam thought inviting Bucky home with him would be good for him-- and the sun and the Wilsons would have been-- but, at the time, it just made Bucky panic, which is then also why Sam just rolls over the fact that Bucky hadn’t been returning his texts when they see one another again. Sam kept reaching out to check on him but accepted the non-response because he felt like he might have kind of pushed Bucky too fast. They both know they both have feelings for one another but are scared by how much the other has to get through to get to that point and feel ill-equipped to really help one another, often blunder in their attempts to (and other times, get it just right.)

So, yeah. There’s still no shortage of conflicts to be dealt with but alongside Sam finding his path to living his truth in this modern world has been Bucky’s arc from daring to whisper about tiger photos to showing up to show off his prowess with heavy stuff and tools to win over his boyfriend in front of his family and hometown. It’s not subtext. It’s literally Bucky’s identity-themed character arc, existing in parallel to Sam’s. Just because they aren’t giving it a ton of labels does not mean that it isn’t the intent of the story.

#sambucky #buckysam #bucky barnes #bucky #sam wilson #tfatws

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yslkook · 3 years

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#take it offline (3)

#corporate masterlist summary: in the weeks leading up to the first workshop taking place in tokyo, you find yourself having several epiphanies and become better acquainted with jeon jungkook. word count: 7765 warnings: cursing, parental death, a mom who walked out, discussion of mental health, alcohol a/n: enjoy the VIBES. i like using appa because appa means dad in my language, and eomma is pronounced the same way for mom in my language too (i’m not korean)

***

After a year passed after your dad’s death, you had gotten a tattoo. It’s big and bold and colorful on your thigh, filled with all of the flowers that your dad treasured the most. Your dad had been so artistic and soft, taking time to enjoy the beauty of small things. He had a small garden in your childhood home, and you remember how meticulously he took care of his flowers. Namely, his favorites were cherry blossoms, pink hibiscuses, white roses and lilies.

There’s always a vase of flowers at home, on your nightstand. As your little tribute to him.

You remember the first time your dad had seen a sunflower- he’d seen it on the internet, and had been fascinated. He had picked you up and twirled you around, promising you that he’d take you to America to see it, to see mazes and fields of sunflowers.

Of course, you never went. Still, the memory is a fond one for you.

You often think that your mother must have been a cruel woman, and that you had received all of her personality and none of your father’s. Your father, who was quiet, soft, and steadfast. And then you, who was brash, impulsive and always angry.

You gave up trying to understand how she could leave your father- she had left when you were just two. Appa never hid her from you, always wanting you to know that you did have a mother. He would show you pictures of her throughout your childhood, telling you bits and pieces of her. It had made your heart ache at the time. That your dad had at least had time with her, and you had nothing to remember her by.

He wasn’t perfect. He tried his best, but you wonder what was worse- never knowing that you had a mother… or knowing that you had her, she left, and then hearing stories from your father about her.

It didn’t matter, not anymore. You only think of your absent mother fleetingly these days, and it’s been years since you’ve thought of her as anything more than a minor side character in your book.

Once you got the first tattoo, you couldn’t stop. There was a small lion below your heart, because your dad and grandma always called you their lion cub. An arrow on the inside of your wrist. It was an itch, a craving that you could never quite satisfy. The desire for fresh ink came and went in waves.

Today is the fifth death anniversary of Appa, and you contemplate whether you should get another tattoo. To celebrate, or mourn really, five years without him.

Ultimately, you decide against it. Instead choosing to continue the tradition of dinner with Grandma and with Seokjin. You and Grandma cooked all of Appa’s favorite foods and desserts on the day of his death anniversary. Jin, as your closest friend and as the person who quite literally picked you up at your lowest, always came every year for Appa’s dinner.

You think Jin saved you from yourself all those years ago, and you don’t even know if he knows that. And how could he know? If you had never properly voiced it?

Appa’s dinner is usually a quiet, but fun affair. Just the way your dad would have liked it. You and Jin fill the silence with your banter, and Grandma even jumps in, taking sides when neither of you expect it.

Bowls of meat dishes, even seafood (because Jin liked seafood even though you hated it), rice dishes and vegetables were neatly arranged on the table. The flavorful aromas wafts into your nose and your mouth waters. Looking over to Jin, you see the same thoughts reflected on his face and grin at him.

Appa also loved seafood, specifically fish and octopus- both him and Jin would often tease you about how you had no taste. To which you always responded, “I would rather die than eat something that crawls on the ocean floor. You don’t know where it’s been!”

“The same could be said about chicken and beef-”

“I prefer my meat to be a land animal, thanks.”

“Jin,” You say suddenly, “How are your parents? Your sister? I texted her the other day, but I’m sure she’s busy with school...”

“You tell me, Ma told me that you called her the other day,” Jin says wryly, “You probably talk to her more than I do.”

“You should call your parents, Seokjin,” Grandma scolds and Jin gives her a sheepish grin, “Go visit them soon. Your Ma told me she misses you.”

“Oh, fine, everyone can just gang up on me then, I guess,” Jin rolls his eyes, “Next time I go home, you and grandma should come with me. I’ll get scolded by them too if I don’t bring you.”

“Oh, well when you put it that way, you make it sound so enticing, Seokjin,” You scoff, getting up to get a drink, “D’you want soju or wine?”

“Wine,” Grandma chirps.

“Soju,” Seokjin replies.

“I’ll drive you home, Jin. Enjoy yourself,” You wink at him despite his protests.

***

Jin is quiet in the car, his attention undivided to his phone. You don’t mind, but you see his phone lighting up every few seconds. An occasional smile and breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he types away.

You even see a heart emoji or two on the screen.

“Who are you textin’? You got a secret lover or somethin’?” You tease. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t deny you. Instead, the tips of his ears go red and your smile fades.

“Uh,” Jin says, “Not a secret lover… Just a girl that I met a few weeks ago.”

“Oh,” You say, in a strangled voice, “Cool. Awesome. I’m happy for you.”

It hurts you more than it should, that Jin hadn’t told you about the woman he’s been seeing for the last few weeks. He knew it too- your heart and your emotions are always on your sleeve, at least to him. He starts to ask you to come inside so that you can talk, but your face is tightened in hurt, and the words die on his lips.

Your smile was forced when you had dropped him off at his apartment building, ignoring the sudden wave of sadness that tumbled over you. Did he not trust you enough to tell you? Have you been a bad friend to him, that he felt like he couldn’t tell you?

You can’t recall the last time he had intentionally hidden something like that from you. You swallow tears down nervously, wiping your eyes and subtly shaking your head to focus on driving home.

Maybe you have been a bad friend lately. Have you asked about him enough? Does he know that you cherish him? Memories of the last few weeks replay in your head, wondering if you had done something to push him away.

But before you can leave the curb, Jin is sprinting from the building and towards you like a madman. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and hair blowing with the wind.

In all of your years of friendship, Jin never lets you leave him when he knew you were upset. He knew how your silly mind worked, how if you revelled in your own thoughts you would end up spiraling further and further away from him.

He slides into the passenger seat of the car, not even admonishing you for leaving the doors unlocked after he had left.

Tears gather in your eyes and you bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Listen to me,” Jin says, turning to you and holding your face in his hands as if you’ll break, “I didn’t tell you about her because… if I told you about her, it would make it so much more real. I don’t know if me and her are real yet. I can’t introduce you to her yet because I don’t know. And you know I need your approval, otherwise she’s gone.”

He says it lightly, to get you to smile and it works but tears drop from your eyes anyway.

“You could’ve still told me you were seeing someone,” You say in a small voice, “You’ve told me every other time…”

“This time feels different,” Jin admits, “But you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Maybe you’re being too clingy. You scoff out loud, already wanting to curl into yourself and forget about your stupid heart.

“God, I’m so stupid. I’m sorry I freaked out,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes, “I know you’d tell me if it was important.”

“Don’t apologize for me hurting you,” Jin says, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Have I been a good friend to you, Jin?” You whisper after a beat and Jin’s eyes widen. He feels terrible for making you doubt yourself and doubt your friendship with him.

“What? Of course you’ve been a good friend. What’s going on?”

“I just- Maybe you didn’t want to tell me because I haven’t been a great friend to you. I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t showed you-”

“Stop,” Jin whispers, “Stop that.”

And that’s so very you, thinking that you had done something to upset him. When really, it was him who actively chose not to tell you out of his own fears.

You normally don’t really like hugs. Or being touched. Except by Jin. The exception has always been Jin.

“Can I have a hug?” You mumble quietly, looking up at him with red eyes.

Jin coos softly at you, pulling you in tightly to his chest over the console of the car. He rubs your back, waiting for you to calm down as you inhale him in generously.

“If I was upset with you, you know I would tell you. I love you too much to let you get away from me,” Jin murmurs into your ear, “You’re my best friend. When I say that I didn’t tell you because it terrifies me to be in something serious, that’s all it means. Telling you makes it serious, and that’s all it is. Please trust me?”

“I do, I do,” You mumble, face pressed into his purple sweater, “Of course I trust you. It’s my own mind I feel like I can’t trust sometimes. That’s… that’s not a fair reaction to have. It’s not fair...

Jin looks at you for a long moment, and you already know what is going to come out of his mouth. Because it’s something you’ve been thinking about more and more frequently over the past few weeks.

And because you both seem to almost always be on the same wavelength.

There’s a far away look in his eyes. He waits for you to say something, not wanting to upset you further.

“I think… I think I should see someone. Sometimes I feel like I’m just losing control. It scares me how quick I spiral,” You mumble. Meeting his eyes is difficult for you in your vulnerability, so you just don’t.

Jin yanks you into his chest again and hugs you tight. You’re both silent for a few minutes, your grip on his sweater starting to loosen.

“Hey,” Jin finally says, “I’m proud of you. I’m here for you, and I’ll help you find someone.”

“Jin,” You breathe, shaking your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Last time we talked about this, we fought so much. We didn’t even talk for like, three days. Which is a record for us,” Jin chuckles, “Of course, I’ll help you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly in gratitude, giving him a tender smile.

“Hey. When you finally do decide that you like this girl,” You say, “Let’s have drinks together. She’s different, I can tell. Haven’t seen you blush at a text like that like… ever. And I want to meet whoever makes you this happy.”

“Yeah,” Jin nods, cheeks reddening at the mention of the woman he likes, “Yes, I’ll coordinate with her-”

“Like, remember that girl you were seeing during our third year? The one who threw up in your shoes, forgot about it, and then blamed it on me? Let’s hope your new girl won’t throw up in your shoes, huh?”

“Shut up,” Jin says and elbow you gently, “You hated her from the beginning.”

“The vibes were just off, Seokjin. You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” You laugh.

Silence falls between you both again, the setting sun pulling you away from your comfortable bubble.

“I should get going. Grandma’s probably wondering what’s taking so long,” You lament and almost shyly give him another hug.

Jin presses a long kiss to your forehead. You’re certain you might combust, you’re not used to being touched like this. Whether it’s platonic or romantic.

“I mean it,” Jin says, “I’m really proud of you.”

He says it so strongly, so full of conviction and love for you that you’re almost proud of yourself, too.

***

Tonight is a late night with Jungkook and Sana. Namjoon had entrusted the next slate of deliverables to you this week, as he was out of the office for the majority of the week. So, you had straightened your back and got to work, outlining exactly what had to be done for the first workshop taking place in Tokyo in exactly one month.

You booked the conference room, your favorite one with the big projector and the nicer chairs, for the later half of the day. When it began to look like you were going to have to stay late, you told Jungkook and Sana to go home.

But they both vehemently refused to leave you, and that itself brought a small smile to your face.

But Namjoon is still neurotic enough to text you at least twice during the week to see how things are going. At first, you had been startled- hardly anyone ever texts you besides Grandma and Seokjin. But then you relaxed when you realized it was just Namjoon texting you for work.

It had thrown you off when he had continued the conversation, speaking to you as if you were more than coworkers, and as if you were friends.

Jin had looked at you like you had three heads when you voiced your confusion-

“What are you talking about? Namjoon talks about you all the time, he always says how funny you are and how you keep everyone in check at work. He even mentioned those recipes you sent to him. Of course you both are friends,” Jin says, his eyes softening when your lips open in surprise.

You’re rendered to contemplation by that. Had you always been that dense? Not realizing when people liked you?

It was something to discuss at your next appointment with your therapist.

“Your boss is stressing me out,” You joke to Jungkook, “Dude’s on vacation and he’s still worried about work.”

Jungkook freezes, his tongue seemingly stuck in his mouth. You’re looking at him with a disarming smile and he’s just not used to it.

“Uh,” He manages, “I’m still trying to figure out what makes him tick. But I think he’s always had to carry the load for projects, maybe it’s a habit to break…”

“Yeah,” You snort, “Because he’s never had me as a lead on one of his projects. Namjoon’s been cursed with shitty teams before. But not this time.”

“What does that mean?” Sana asks curiously, looking up from her laptop.

“It means that sometimes directors and senior directors don’t know what the hell they’re doing and they don’t know how to strategize,” You say dryly, “The Tokyo team won’t know what hit them. And we’re gonna make our bosses look great.”

The last bit comes out bitterly without it meaning to.

You lean back in your chair and take your blazer off. Jungkook gulps despite himself at the sight of your tanned arms and the brief expanse of your neck. He feels like he’s twenty-one again, shyly watching you speak animatedly to him at your favorite coffee shop.

The sound of your voice yanks him back to reality and he blinks at you.

“I think we still have just one more thing to finalize…” You murmur, flipping through your notes, “It’s already late, I can finish the rest at home-”

“Wait, I really want to stay, but I can’t- I have to take my dad to an appointment,” Sana says, about to apologize but you hold your hand up to stop her.

“Go then, seriously. You should’ve told me you couldn’t stay late,” You scold lightly, “Work will always be there, Sana. Time won’t.”

You offer her another smile and she smiles nervously back at you.

“Wait, before you go- let me get your phone number,” You murmur, ignoring the way your heartbeat rushes in anticipation.

Your therapist has been helping you get comfortable in your own skin and allow yourself the apparent luxury of leaning on others. You figure that part of that is accepting and seeking friendship from others. You’ve only had several sessions with her, but you feel something after each session.

“Our boss never asked for my phone number when I started,” Sana says dryly when she gives you a missed call and you text her so she has your number.

“Yeah, sometimes I wonder if he even remembers my name,” You say lightly, keeping your face in a warm smile.

Jungkook has never seen you smile so much. Not recently at least. It’s… different. He hates to revel in the past, in the version of you that he knew. But he wonders if he ever really knew you at all. The only thing familiar about you is your smile and your eyes.

He doesn’t even realize it, but his tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek.

He wonders if you still even have his phone number. He wonders if you’d even ask for it.

“Jungkook, I can finish this at home if you have somewhere to be,” You offer with a shrug and stretch your arms outward.

“Nah, let’s finish this now,” Jungkook says shortly.

He’s nothing if not a perfectionist.

“Yeah, tomorrow’s Friday anyway. D’you wanna do one last review tomorrow morning and then we can go home early?” You pose it like a question, but really, it’s a demand.

“Sounds good.”

“Wanna order dinner? Since we’ll be here for a while,” You suggest, already googling takeout options.

Jungkook shrugs noncommittally, instead working to spell check the document you had been working on previously.

“How do you feel about fried rice? Or… pizza? You used to love pineapple on pizza right?” You ask airily.

Jungkook has whiplash. Again. How can you remember something so insignificant about him and still be such a stranger to him?

“Yeah, pineapple on pizza is a way of life. Pineapple and jalapeno on pizza, specifically,” Jungkook says, not looking up from his laptop.

His tongue is poking his cheek again, but you don’t notice. At least, he doesn’t think he does.

“I’ll get a pie of pineapple and jalapeno then. And maybe some garlic bread,” You muse, putting your credit card information into the website.

“Wait, I can pay, too,” Jungkook protests when he sees you whip out your card.

“You can get it next time,” You shrug carelessly and absent-mindedly scratch at your forearms, then your cheek.

Next time? Jungkook barely gives it a second thought, his eyes catching on the smattering of tattoos and the swirl of colors on your wrist. He doesn’t know how he missed it, but it’s not often that he is ever this close to you.

Those are new, and he subtly looks at his own tattoos before sneaking a glance at yours.

You lean back in your chair, watching what Jungkook is doing on the projector. You pull up several documents on your own laptop to fact check the document. You both develop an easy rhythm of you telling him what to add and him typing away, and you continue like that even as the pizza and garlic bread arrives. You had quickly dipped out and brought the food to the conference room before Jungkook could even protest.

He reads each paragraph after it’s completed, briefly scanning to see if anything more needs to be included.

“Can you check this sentence, on the acquisitions piece? It doesn’t sound accurate…” Jungkook says thoughtfully. The smell of the pizza leaves his mouth watering but he just wants to finish this one last sentence...

You hum in agreement, leaning back further and relaxing your hands behind your head. You feel like your eyes are beginning to cross as an initial wave of hunger passes through you.

“Let’s eat instead,” You announce, standing up abruptly.

You quickly send a text to Grandma, telling her that you’ll already have eaten dinner by the time you get home. You toss a set of plates and napkins to Jungkook, gesturing for him to take as many slices as he wants.

Jungkook watches you inhale three slices of pizza in less than seven minutes, a small spattering of sauce at the corner of your lips.

“Can’t believe I was ever the type of person to openly hate on pineapple on pizza,” You moan, kicking your legs up onto the chair next to you and looking at Jungkook, “Remember how much shit I used to talk on pineapple on pizza? As if it didn’t belong…”

He does remember. He remembers how you would always make fun of him for it, until he had convinced you to try a slice. And then you had fallen in love. But your hot and cold behavior stings and he doesn’t want to entertain it. Or entertain you. You spent so long acting like you didn’t know him, and now you want to talk about old memories?

Nah. He could be petty, too.

Jungkook shrugs, “Not really. It was a while ago.”

His normally warm, brown eyes are distant, and far away as his glance passes over you and to his laptop. Jungkook turns away from you, his hair nearly covering his eyes and typing rapidly.

Like he’d rather be anywhere but next to you.

You don’t really blame him, but you ignore the brief, dissipating sting at his sudden coldness.

“Do you have roommates?” You ask abruptly.

“Huh?” Jungkook asks, taken aback by the question.

“Roommates? There’s a lot of extra food and I live with my grandma. She won’t eat this,” You explain, waving to the boxes of food in front of you.

“Oh. Yeah I’ve got a roommate, I’ll take it home,” Jungkook replies.

Your grandmother?

You nod and swallow to alleviate the sudden dryness of your throat. You both work the remainder of the hour in silence for the most part, occasional questions and thoughts being thrown around as Jungkook types. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jungkook finally stands up, stretching his legs and his back. You avert your eyes when his baby blue dress shirt rides up a little as he stretches his arms. You catch the inky trails on his forearm (his sleeves are pulled up at the elbow) and his fingers and you wonder, not for the first time, how this was the boy you knew all those years ago.

All those years ago. The words, the memories that you’ve somehow forced into a box have slowly been unfurling. The mental block that you’ve had over your time in graduate school is linked to memories of your dad getting sick and passing away. You’re not dense- you know why you avoid Jungkook, at the heart of it. Seeing him that first day reminded you so much of when you were happy.

Your therapist put it in words when you couldn’t. It’s quite embarrassing you think, how much Jungkook has come up during your therapy sessions. The appearance of him also brought on seemingly unwanted memories of your father. It makes sense.

“We’re done,” Jungkook exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, “We’ll look over it tomorrow with Sana and send it to Namjoon.”

“Yeah,” You say a little breathlessly, “Thanks, Jungkook. For… for everything, I guess.”

His eyes are wide, doe-like and familiar.

“Thanks for the food,” He grins, flashing you his bunny smile.

“It’s on you next time,” You say easily, packing your things up and slinging your blazer over your shoulder.

You don’t care. You know that your boss and other men in general have looked at you in offense when you show skin. But you don’t care. What did it matter, at the end of the day?

Even if Jungkook is annoyed at you for whatever reason, you don’t miss the way his eyes rake over your body. At least you’ve got him there, even if he can’t stand the sight of you.

You elicit a laugh from yourself that Jungkook doesn’t hear.

You both walk in silence to your respective cars. Before you part ways, you dig some courage out from your spine and ignore the way your hands tremble-

“Hey,” You call softly, “I-uh- still have your phone number. Don’t flatter yourself-” When you see him grin confidently at you, “I’ll start a group chat with us and Namjoon. And umm… Great work today. I’m glad we’re on the same team.”

You visibly cringe. You’re going soft.

“I knew it, you’re obsessed with me,” Jungkook teases and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips.

“It’s only ‘cause I kept forgetting to delete your number,” You shoot back, without any real heat behind your words.

Jungkook smiles warmly at you, teeth on full display and eyes sparkling and god, you never want him to look at you with emptiness in his eyes ever again.

***

You look, simply put, like shit. Despite the concealer you had dabbed to your undereyes, you feel every bit as exhausted as you look.

But nobody picks up on it, except for you. Your lipstick is meticulous as it always is, not even a single hair is out of place and your outfit is crisp. Despite the misery coursing through your veins, you still have an image to upkeep.

Fake it till you make it, as you’ve always said.

You’re currently in a half day team meeting with your submissions team and your respective bosses. Today is not the day to be tired. And yet, you’re on your second cup of coffee and it’s not even 11 AM yet.

It’s been a rough few weeks since the last late night planning session you had with Jungkook and Sana. Therapy has been getting harder and more frustrating to work through- your therapist, Dr. Lee, is asking you questions that you genuinely don’t want to answer.

Your session a few weeks ago had ended with you being a smartass and avoiding every single question. And she took all of it. She was truly an angel, you think. And then you decide to give it a chance, give her at least an inch.

She asks you about graduate school. Why you don’t want to talk about it. Why Jungkook sets you off, why the mention of your former mentee sent you into a frenzy. She asks you about your dad. About your mom.

She puts the pieces together for you, until you sort of see the fully painted picture. That it’s all connected- school, your dad, why the last five years have felt like a blur to you. Because you’ve been avoiding all of it, and what all of it means.

You feel especially vulnerable and exposed. You’re not used to it- you feel like everyone can see right through you. You feel like everyone can see right through you and see you for the person you are.

You don’t know what’s more terrifying- being seen, or not being seen at all.

It’s two weeks until the first workshop in Tokyo, which is why you’re gathered with Namjoon, Sana and Jungkook and your respective bosses.

You at least straighten your back for this meeting, not wanting to allow room for your boss to criticize you. You don’t think you can handle it, not today. You’re struggling with staying focused, but you try your best.

When you present your portion of the slide deck, outlining exactly what you’ll be doing with the team in Tokyo during the first workshop, your boss cuts you off with a derisive chuckle that makes your blood boil.

“You should put some emotion into it and smile a little. It wouldn’t kill ya,” Your boss says with a smug grin. As if he knows how much it gets under your skin. Which he does, you’re certain of it.

You could take it to HR, you know you could. But you don’t want trouble. You don’t want to be painted as the villain. You wanted to rise above it, but right now, you just want to cry.

“I’ll smile with the Tokyo team, don’t you worry,” You grit your teeth. When I actually have something to smile for.

The air is tense all of a sudden, and it’s your fault. Of course it is. Your boss and Namjoon’s boss look at you as if you have ten heads. Nobody says a word, and you want to scream at all of them. And cry at the same time.

“She’s doing great,” Comes Namjoon’s steady voice from the head of the table.

“Yeah, she put this presentation together. She’s got this in the bag,” Jungkook adds, offering you a small smile. His eyes sparkle at you.

“We’re a great team, you know. It’s really great that you put us together,” Sana says, looking at your boss with acid in her eyes. Not that he can tell.

This time, you really do want to cry. You don’t think anyone at this godforsaken company has ever stuck up for you that way, besides Seokjin. You swallow the tears down and give them a watery smile before continuing on.

You continue on.

***

The first workshop in Tokyo is in two days, and Namjoon wanted to have a little teambuilding night before you all left, just to loosen the nerves. You’re about ten minutes early to the bar, as you usually are to places that you’re invited to. You hate to be late- that was something your Grandma had instilled in you from a young age.

You text her saying you’ve arrived and thank your Uber driver for the ride. Normally, you would’ve just driven, but you know better than to go out for drinks with Jin and think that you’d be okay to drive at the end of the night.

You’re glad Jin will be coming. Seeing your colleagues outside of work unnerves you to no end. So you’re glad that Jin will be there as your buffer. Namjoon had asked him to come, as they were friends outside of work, too.

You grab a booth for the five of you and tap your freshly done nails on the sleek, matte black table. It’s a nice place, you observe. Namjoon has good taste. It’s not often that you come out like this. To bars, and so far outside of your comfort zone. The only time you would ever be seen at a bar was with Jin, and it wasn’t that often to begin with.

You take to admiring your newly painted mint green nails as you text your group chat with Namjoon, Sana and Jungkook letting them know that you’ve arrived. And you send a loud ‘where the hell are you’ text to Jin.

It’s a relatively mild evening, so you had decided to wear your heeled boots, a black flowy top that showcases a peek of the tattoo near your clavicle and dipped generously into your chest tucked into black jeans and you had even done your makeup up more so than what you usually do for work. Grandma had jokingly asked you if she should stay at her friend’s house for the night, in case you were bringing someone home.

To which you had protested and rolled your eyes.

“Look at you,” Jin says loudly, sliding into the booth next to you. He startled you and caused you to jump, “Brought out the lipstick, huh?”

“Shut up, I always wear lipstick at work,” You roll your eyes.

“Red lipstick?” Jin asks with a suspicious arch of his eyebrow.

Okay, fine, that wasn’t as normal. But still, it makes you feel pretty.

“Don’t make fun of me,” You grumble, elbowing him. He laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing tightly.

“I’m not. You look pretty tonight,” Jin says and you give him a beaming smile.

“That implies that I’m not always pretty.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Hey!” You gasp and shove his shoulder. You know he’s only joking, evidenced from the way you both burst out laughing.

“I’m only friends with pretty people, I told you,” Jin says cockily.

“You’re such a dick,” You mutter and roll your eyes for the millionth time already.

Before you can pester him about his mysterious woman that you have yet to meet, Jungkook, Namjoon and Sana eventually trickle in as well. Jungkook waves a quick hello, smile beaming at Jin, and sits across from you. Sana sits next to him and Namjoon sits next to Jin.

You can hardly meet Jungkook’s sparkling eyes, but you force yourself to. He looks good, great even- his hair is soft and wavy over his eyes and he’s dressed in all black. You wonder what the majority of his wardrobe is- is it all black? Does he like bright colors? His lips are dewy and red tinted, as if he had just swiped some cherry chapstick on. The silver of the small hoop on his ears glints in the dimness of the bar.

Jungkook forces his eyes away from the darkened red curve of your lips, from the swell of your chest and meets your gaze with a smile. The moment is broken when Jin squeezes into you to get you to move over and you nearly shriek at the sudden weight thrown to your side.

“Jin! What’s wrong with you,” You shake your head.

“There’s so much space over there! Move over,” Jin says petulantly, “Namjoon’s basically falling off the seat!”

“You could’ve just said so,” You grumble, “Dumbass.”

You say the last bit under your breath but Jin hears it, and Jungkook does, too. Sana breaks out into laughter, hiding her giggles behind her hand. You shoot her a faux glare that quickly melts into a smile.

“What shall we order, ladies and gentlemen and Jin?” You say, ignoring Jin’s affronted gasp.

“Soju,” Jungkook and Namjoon say at the same time and grin at each other.

“No wonder he’s your boss,” Sana says, earning a chorus of laughs from the table.

“The only question Namjoon asked me during the interview was ‘what’s your favorite alcohol’,” Jungkook says and his eyes flit to you when you laugh.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Namjoon knows how to have a good time,” You wink behind Jin at Namjoon and he winks right back at you.

“I’ll have… blueberry,” Sana says definitively and sees your skeptical glance, “What? Blueberry soju is one of three flavors with rights.”

“Strawberry, peach, and pineapple are the best ones,” You protest.

“Are you kidding? Apple and green grape are the best-”

“Why are you yelling? I’m right.”

“Peach and green grape are the best,” Jungkook chimes in, ignoring the stutter of his heartbeat when you beam at him.

“See? Jungkook has taste-”

“He said green grape, too-”

“But he said peach first-”

The waitress comes and all of you cease your bickering to give her your orders of drinks and snacks. She looks guilty for a minute for interrupting your conversation, but Jin waves her off.

“Don’t feel bad, they’re all idiots,” Jin says, and you shove him on behalf of your colleagues. He rattles off the order to the waitress and she’s on her merry way.

Once your drinks arrive in the middle of another heated conversation about seafood, Jungkook takes a long swig of his soju to calm his nerves. Specifically, his nerves around you. He’s quiet generally, but he’s not this quiet. He wonders if you remember. If you remember that he dislikes clubs and crowded places, preferring the quiet of a bar or even better- the quiet of home.

You absently rub the back of your neck, your shirt slipping a little off of your shoulder slightly. And revealing another tattoo, as if it was a present just for his eyes. How many do you have? Are they hidden? Do you keep them hidden on purpose?

He could keep it together around you at work, under the pretense of professionalism. Never offering more than what you offer. If you smile, he’ll smile. If you bark at him, he’ll stay silent. But this is uncharted territory. He can forget about how cold you had been in the beginning, he can forget about how much it hurt. But only if you look at him the way you’re looking at him right now. Only if you look at him with those starry eyes that wrap around him and choke him from inside.

Jungkook doesn’t understand- he doesn’t know you, not really. How is he still this attracted to you? He had chalked it up to the same crush he had when he was twenty-one. But it feels different. And you have no idea. It’ll continue to stay that way, until he can move past it. He deserves better than someone who was as cold and callous as you.

But you weren’t cold or callous, were you? No- the sunburst of a smile on your face says otherwise. The way you rib Jin and try to make sure that everyone feels included in the conversation says otherwise.

Before he can continue his train of thought, you turn your gaze sharply to him. Your red lips break apart to call his name, and he realizes you’re talking to him.

“Jungkook? Here’s your drink,” You say, passing his peach soju to him, “I got peach, too.”

“Because we have taste,” Jungkook murmurs and you grin.

“Cheers to Tokyo,” Namjoon says, “We’re gonna be great. I’m glad we’re a team-”

“Hey, I’m not on your team,” Jin protests and you elbow him again.

“Shut up, Jin, just let Namjoon toast to us. Not everything’s about you,” You hiss at Jin and he pouts. You tip your bottle to the center to meet Namjoon’s bottle and Jin dramatically follows suit.

“As I was saying,” Namjoon glares at Jin playfully, “We’ve done great work, and I know this team can do anything. I’m glad it’s us. We’re going to knock it out of the park.”

“Cheers, Joon, you’ve been a great team leader,” Sana says with a bright smile.

“Yeah, a little neurotic, but the best leader I’ve ever had,” You wink at him.

“Glad you’re my boss, Namjoon,” Jungkook says, sincerity dripping off of his tongue, “I’m honored to call you my boss.”

Namjoon beams at you all, dimples on full display and eyes shining. You clink bottles eagerly and take a long swig of your drink, meeting Jungkook’s swirling eyes briefly. Once he pulls his bottle away from his mouth, you’re instantly drawn to the wet sheen of his lips and his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip.

Your cheeks heat up, and has it always been this warm or is it just you? You can’t help yourself, watching Jungkook’s tongue poke out once more and circling his lips again. You itch your chin nervously, out of habit before ripping your eyes away from him.

You pull away immediately when you remember where you are. And who you are. He’s your colleague, nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing more, nothing less.

***

It’s two and a half bottles of soju later, two peach and one green grape that you’re currently nursing, when your cheeks feel hot and you’re certain your words are starting to slur. You can hear the tipsy higher pitch of your voice when you speak.

You haven’t felt tipsy like this in a long time, and the fact that it's in front of your colleagues sets you on edge. You try to stay as quiet as you can so you don’t make a fool of yourself, but you want to engage with them. They don’t feel like just colleagues. They feel like your friends.

Or they feel like they could be your friends. If you allow them in. Your heart grows fond of the sentiment. The sentiment grows when Sana brings you to the dance floor to dance and sing along to songs with her. The bar has gotten considerably more packed since you had first arrived, and you don’t recall the last time you were surrounded by this many people your age. The lights are dimmed but bright enough that you can see Sana’s bright, happy eyes.

You subconsciously look for Jin, spotting him at the bar with Jungkook and Namjoon. He waves the both of you over and you gesture to Sana.

Jin already has shots lined up for you and Sana but you hesitate.

“I don’t know Jin,” You protest, “I don’t do well with shots…”

Before Jin can tease you and tell you that he’ll take yours for you, you hear Jungkook’s voice on your right side.

“I’ll take yours for you,” Jungkook shrugs, “Since Jin already got them.”

“Oh- uh- thanks,” You say sheepishly.

Your face feels warm again and your heart does a funny thing that you don’t recognize. You shift closer to him to hand him your shot glass, and you lean closer to him without realizing it. The warmth he radiates is intoxicating, more so than the liquor in the shot glass you think.

Jungkook only spares you a quick glance before throwing the shot glass back easily, as if it was practiced. A glint of a silver necklace around his throat catches your eye, the column of his throat nearly glowing with the dimmed lighting.

“Tequila, Jin? Really?” Jungkook winces, washing the taste down with the drink in his hand.

Jin only shrugs and makes his way over to you and Jungkook, wrapping his arms around both sets of shoulders.

The three of you haven’t been together, not like this, since-

“Feels like old times, huh?” Jin says, lips pursing into a tipsy grin, “We were stupid kids.”

“Now we’re stupid adults,” You laugh, but your laugh fades away quickly at the pensive, somewhat cold look on Jungkook’s face.

“Old times…” Jungkook muses, “It was so long ago. We’re all so different now, huh?”

Even if he’s looking at Jin, you get the feeling he’s talking directly to you.

“A lot of time has gone by, a lot has happened since then,” You reply airily, raring up on the defensive just in case.

Jungkook says nothing, only shifting his gaze to you. The iciness around his brown irises breaks apart slowly, but his jaw is set and his lips pursed in a line.

“Oh, really? A lot happened since then?” Jungkook says, voice leveled. It’s unfamiliar, the uncharacteristic coldness in his voice. You’re only used to his bunny smiles and warmth. Again, that was from years ago. And like he had said- you were all different now.

You say nothing, holding your secrets back with your red lips. You owe him nothing. He’s only a colleague, right?

Then why does it hurt the way it does?

Jin releases his hold on the both of you, picking up on the sudden tension between you both. There are a thousand things Jungkook wants to say to you, a thousand questions- How have you been? What have you been up to, all these years? Why are you living with your grandma?

Instead, steel curls in his eyes and ice in his throat.

Jungkook shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second. He knows if he opens his mouth, he’ll end up hurting you. And he can’t do that. But apparently, he can’t just ask you how you’re doing, either.

You don’t really blame him for his sharp tongue.

Jin looks between the two of you with concerned, raised eyebrows, clearly feeling the unspoken tension. You want to melt into the floor so you diffuse the situation the only way you know how.

“I gotta pee, I’ll be back,” You mutter quickly and don’t bother to meet their eyes before making a hasty exit.

Jin already has texted you, asking if everything’s okay. You text him a quick yes before touching up on your lipstick and giving yourself room to breathe. You stay in the bathroom for a few minutes before heading back out and pretending like the look in Jungkook’s eyes isn’t piercing every part of the wall you’ve built up.

You avoid speaking to him directly for the rest of the night, and he avoids you. You can’t help casting glances at him when you think he isn’t looking. You feel like apologizing, but you don’t know why. So you don’t, and you bury it.

But at the end of the night, he tells you to get home safe. And that he’ll see you at the airport on Friday. You reciprocate his sentiments, carefully looking into his irises to make sure that the coldness in his eyes isn’t directed toward you.

Jin pulls you away from the group for a minute-

“Stay the night with me. I don’t like the idea of you being alone with a stranger for thirty minutes in an Uber,” Jin suggests, “And Grandma will kill me if she finds out I let you go home alone.”

“Yeah,” You say faintly, “I’ll text her.”

You and Jin say your goodbyes. Normally, you’d be worried about how the optics of you leaving to go home with Jin looks to your colleagues, but tonight you don’t really feel like caring. You know Namjoon knows of the nature of your friendship with Jin. The rest doesn’t matter.

Jungkook watches you leave with Jin. Namjoon and Sana have already called an Uber together, since they lived in the same apartment complex. Neither of them see Jin drape his jacket over your shoulders. Neither of them see you wrap an arm around Jin’s upper arm and lean your head against it as you walk further and further away.

Neither of them hear his heart ache in this crowded street of Seoul, when his brain was telling him that it had no reason to.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

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notsolong-pause · 3 years

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«Hello! Can I have a ship from Percy Jackson and Harry Potter please? I’m she/her, straight. I have long dark hair (naturally blonde) and blue eyes, rosy cheeks, multiple flower tattoos on my arm. I’m in Apollo cabin and Ravenclaw! My hobbies are reading, photography, and cooking, but I also have a lil wild side and love house parties / underground raves / mosh pits etc. Very very social, I love being around friends. My love language is touch :’) my favourite colour is pale pink. I’m a student nurse and play drums in a band. Thank you!!»

a/n: my first request - yay! you sound super-cool, and thank you so much for this request <3

If YOU want to submit a ship request, click here

Harry Potter:

I ship you with Remus Lupin

He absolutely loves your tattoos, and would compliment them every now and then, and just admire how badass and elegant they look

Putting your head on his shoulder, whenever you feel down; hugging in the corridors to support one another; reading with your legs on his lap

He would help you study, and would be really proud of you pursuing such a tough career

You guys seem to contrast a little, but you would in fact just help each other around in different spheres

You teaching him how to cook your favorite dish, and he makes it differently but it still tastes amazing

It was a night after one of the Quidditch Cups. Gryffindor beat Slytherin, and everyone were ecstatic. Gryffindor house usually managed to throw the party of a lifetime, so of course you wouldn’t miss it. The music was loud, the room was masterfully decorated, and the lights were dim. Remus Lupin was resting on the sofa in the corner and watching his friends partying as if it was their last time. That was when Remus spotted a dashing girl swaying her hair and throwing her hands in the air in the centre of the living room. She danced so effortlessly smoothly, and her energy was piercing through the crowd. Remus felt an urge to know her name at least. He was building up his courage until the girl finally stopped for a minute next to the table with some food and drinks. Within a second Remus was near this very table.

"Hey, I saw you dancing - you are terribly good at this" - he was slightly nervous, obviously, fidgeting with his ink-stained fingers a little. "Oh, Hi! Thanks, the music here is fire". You eyed Remus up and down, beaming at him. "I'm Remus, by the way". "Well, I like your sweater, Remus".

30 minutes later you were sitting in the Ravenclaw common room. The time seemed to fly by, while you were discussing everything and nothing. "You make photos?" - Re,mus sounded very excited. "Yeah, actually, I do. I have some in my dorm, if you want to see". "Absolutely, I do". And with that you headed towards your room. Up there the walls were decorated with some shots that you made, other pieces were in the album that you got from under your bed. "Here" - you handed it to Remus, while your fingers brushed a little. "Wow! These are truly wonderful - I love your work" - the boy seemed very invested. "I took this one at my appartment back in London" - you were pointing at some photo, and felt the warmth of another shoulder right next to yours. "Listen, I know it's all to soon, and everything, - Remus looked down at his hands again, - but do you maybe want to go to Hogsmeade with me, have a cup of coffee?"

"I'd love to" - you smiled at him, and that's how it all started.

Percy Jackson:

I ship you with Leo Valdez

CONSTANT handholding, cuddles in his bunker and forhead goodnight kisses every time you go to bed, because Leo's love language is probably physical touch as well

You try to cook together, and he would always burn everything, because he's Leo, and then would try to do everything properly secretly from you to surprise you

Him being generally in awe of how talented and smart you are, and bragging about your accomplishments to everyone

You two joking around, being this noticable and energetic couple that gives off the best vibes and makes everybody smile

He would try to improve some things about your camera(s), only making it worse sometimes, and then appologizing and managing to fix everything to make even better than it was at first.

It was one of the August misty hot days, when everyone is back from the quests and are ready to go back home for the rest of the year. There was a small concert planned as one of the events. And you were going to perform with the rest of the band (aka your siblings). The concert wasn't big and serious, just a cozy thing in the camp. You chose a couple of songs that you especially liked, and you were all set to go on this stage. The evening air was light and transperent. Everything covered with lights. You took to the stage, and started your performance. You guys were on fire that night.

Leo was standing among the public. You were already familiar with one another, bumping into eachother from time to time, laughing at eachother's jokes. But something about this evening and the way you played so passionately struck Leo, and he wasn't able to tear his eyes away. "Man, you're staring" - Jason who came to visit the camp for a little patted Leo on the shoulder. "Shut up..." - he mumbled. As soon as the performance was over, Leo hurried to the stage to meet you as you were making your way down.

"You were amazing!" - he blurted out. "Thanks, Leo" - you gave him a smile. "These are for you" - he showed his hand, holding a small bouquet of burned flowers. "Oh, shit". He looked at you embarassed. "I'm sorry, it's just that when I get nervous, I..."

"It's okay Leo." - you reassured him - "Maybe you can try again tomorrow, I wouldn't mind"

Hope, you like it. I'm so excited for this is my first request ever! Sending love

#harry potter #the marauders #ship requests #reader #reader insert #x reader #y/n #remus lupin #remus x reader #young!remus x reader #leo valdez #percy jackson #pjoverse #leo valdez x reader #fanfiction #hp #pjo #submission

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getlitaesthetic · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’ve been hesitant to send this since your ask box is so overfilled but I’m gonna shoot a donation to your paypal to justify it to myself gkjdkjd, could I please get a matchup?. I’m 5’1, she/her, kinda chubby but working on building muscle, heavily tattooed with like, cute cat designs & kirby. Dress kinda masc w short hair and usually some kind of suit blazer & t-shirt combo. Been told I have a high pain tolerance. [1/3]

[2/3] INFP-T, VERY bad at talking so tend to either nervously ramble or just stay silent depending on the vibes of the situation, try way too hard to be an optimist but am naturally kinda pessimistic and self-critical. I love cute things & animals and usually end up being the therapist of my friend group. If I had an evil S/O and thought me or the people around me were in danger, I’d stay and just try to ignore all of the bad stuff they do and pretend everythings fine.

[3/3] I’m scared of insects & needles and desire… happiness I guess? (NOT gonna happen in the Devildom though!). I like to sing & dance and am honestly not great at either but I do my best!!. TBH would probably get mauled trying to feed some kind of wild dog or something before any of the demons could even lay eyes on me haha. Ty so much in advance and sorry if this is a hard one to match! ;A;

————-

This is... the first time anyone has actually paid me for my writing. I absolutely cannot thank you enough or explain the ridiculous range of emotions I went through seeing that, but know I love you so so so dearly for it. Hopefully you like this, I tried to make it extra good, but let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you to make it better!! 💖💖💖

—

I match you with: Diavolo

It isn’t what you thought it would be. You never anticipated being snatched up by the Prince himself, and why would you? He wasn’t the one you had your eyes peeled for. No one could blame you, not really, under the circumstances.

It was first semester when the guidance counselor took an interest in you that was just a little too intense. You could feel your decline, but could not halt or even slow it. You became more critical, more pessimistic than you’d ever been before, retreating into yourself as a slow building wave of doubt washed over you. The Avatar of Envy was feeding on your psyche, poking into your dreams and playing ping pong with your confidence, drawing you closer but your friends held you strong until he lost interest. You thanked the universe that they were there for you the way you were there for them. So from then on, you watched for Envy.

Only a few weeks later, while applying for a position at the tea shop, did you encounter your next suitor. The tall, slim, well dressed butler who smiled and blinked at you with far too many eyes. Running was not an option, so you offered a hesitant curl of your lips that you could only hope was not a sneer or grimace, and you must have succeeded because the next thing you felt was his hands on your waist. His desire for you was deep and sharp, you could feel the pinpricks of it as he took viselike grip on your wrist and led you to the palace, telling you of all the wonderful things you were going to experience at his side. Already, he told you, he could tell that you were worth loving.

Unfortunately, Barbatos was not the one you were meant to be with. The whirlwind day wasn’t over (was it only a day? Only a week? Only a nightmare?) when you entered the palace, instantly spotted by the Prince.

“Oh!” Diavolo exclaimed. “You’ve brought me a new toy! You always were so wonderful, Barbatos. Get her cleaned up, will you?” The demon’s displeasure was evident in the slight tightening of his grip on your wrist, but he smiled good naturedly, and led you away.

And that was how you ended up here, sweet dove, all dressed up so far from your usual style, in a gown fit for the consort of the Demon Prince. It was how you found yourself on your knees in the throne room, at the feet of a man much larger than you, and prepared yourself for the inevitable moment he chose to stake his claim.

You offered a hesitant smile as he lifted your chin with one long, curving claw, looking into your eyes with an intensity that shot to your core. Everything was fine. You were fine. Weren’t you? Still alive and dressed so pretty, shouldn’t you be grateful you avoided such worse fates?

Then, for the first time, you truly understood pain. It is a lesson you would never forget, because you would be reminded every hour of the remaining 261 days of your life.

Enjoy the gala, beloved, and all the ones to come. You’re bound to be the center of attention.

#obey me #obey me dark au #obey me diavolo #officials #obey me matchups #matchups

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retirementhomecollab · 3 years

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☾ the witching hour

☾ decision: closed bedroom

☾ warnings: f!reader, mildly suggestive

☾ word count: 3k

You sigh, scanning the room for a second time to see if you could find anyone you know well enough to bother.

You catch sight of him.

Oh, shit, you think. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Your “purse” – a shitty plastic cauldron you’d bought from the dollar store – rattles in your hand as you flinch, disgust twisting in your stomach. God, why does he have to be here? Just looking at him is enough to invoke that well-worn rage which has the power to possess you.

In all fairness, you’re not surprised that your ex is at this party. But that doesn’t make the sting of seeing him any less sharp.

Your legs move on their own, shuffling down the hallway and away from the main room as quickly as they can. They take you down the hallway, towards the closed door. You open it and slip inside, trying to calm your stuttering heart.

Kuroo is knelt on the floor next to you.

You yelp, jumping backwards.

“Hi,” Kuroo blinks.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, placing a hand on your chest.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

You frown at him. What right did he have, asking—oh. Oh.

This is his room. You’d slipped into his room on instinct.

Now that was embarrassing.

“Catching my breath,” you say quickly, hoping that is a convincing enough lie. Well, it’s not totally a lie; it’s a half-truth more than anything. You don’t want to make Kuroo listen to you complain about that asshole again.

“Uh huh,” Kuroo nods. He doesn’t look convinced.

“Why’re you on the floor?” You ask. It’s a weak attempt to change the conversation, but you’re genuinely curious.

“Oh, right.” He holds something up to you. It’s a black gel eyeliner, travel-sized and from a brand you don’t recognise. It’s not hard to guess that it’s the first one he found in the grocery store. “I’m trying to do my eyeliner. I sent Kenma a photo of my costume and his only comment was 'were you too scared to do the eyeliner'.”

“Wait, who are you?”

“Guess.”

You tilt your head at him, trying to get a good look. He’s got a long black jacket on, a ponytail clipped to the base of his hair, an Ouroboros tattoo on the back of his left hand…

You grin. “Nerd.”

He grins back. “I seem to remember you saying that Greed-Ling was hot,” he remarks.

“Oh, is that why you chose your costume?” You fire back.

“I wanted to be something unique,” he retorts, looking you up and down pointedly.

You look down at him with a playful glare. “Are you calling me basic, Tetsurou?”

“I would never,” he gasps, placing a hand on his chest in mock sincerity.

“Be careful,” you tease, “I’ll hex you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he chuckles, standing to full height. Admittedly, he’s much more intimidating that way.

“Don’t underestimate me,” you taunt, poking him in the chest. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says, reaching forward to ruffle your hair.

“Nuh uh,” you huff, slapping his hand away. “I worked hard on this. I won’t have you messing it up.”

Kuroo scoffs, shaking his head. This sort of talk is usual for the two of you; it’s easier to tease him than let him know how much you actually like him.

“Anyway, you never told me why you’re really in my room,” he says, grin spreading across his face. “That desperate to see me, huh?”

“Ah,” you swallow, shaking your head slowly. “No, I… I saw my ex.”

The word alone is enough to shift your mood. God, why is that asshole still able to have such an effect on you?

Kuroo’s confident demeanour crumples in response, his shoulders slumping towards you. “Oh, shit. Sorry about that.”

You smile. “It’s fine. I said it was fine.” You had. Big mistake. “Besides, I know that not inviting him would’ve made a mess, so…”

“Still,” Kuroo frowns, tilting his head to the side.

God, why does he always have to look so sympathetic when it comes to this sort of thing?

You sigh, sitting yourself down on the end of his bed.

Sure, your ex had dumped you months ago. By most people’s count, you should be over it now. And in many ways, you are. You don’t miss him. You don’t have any desire to get back with him. You don’t even wish things had gone differently.

But you still can’t see him without that well-worn anger twisting in your stomach or the bitterness in the back of your throat that always bubbles up when you remember most of your friends still hang out with him.

Kuroo stands across from you with his arms crossed.

You place your “purse” at your feet, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Kuroo knows quite a bit about what happened between you and your ex. By a stroke of bad luck on his part, he’d ended up as your port of call during the breakup.

By a stroke of bad luck on your part, you’d ended up growing a tad too attracted to him than perhaps you should’ve.

But you’d never made a move. You don’t want him to think that he’s just a rebound, or that you’re using him to feel better. He’s far too good a guy for that.

“It’s Halloween,” Kuroo shrugs. “If we stage an accident, we can blame it on a poltergeist. Or maybe a demon. Or, at the very least, we can get off on manslaughter charges because we were ‘too drunk’ to realise what was happening.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Like he always does, when your ex is mentioned.

You roll your eyes at him. “Is that how it even work?”

He grins. “No idea. I’ve only done a class on Corporate Law. And even then, I can’t really tell you what’s legal or not.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a good student.”

“Yeah, but it’s law,” he drawls. “There’s nothing duller than law.”

You shake your head. “I can’t fault you for that one.”

A silence falls over the two of you. You can hear the faint din of the party in the living room, the occasional raucous laughter and the bubble of conversation. Some part of you knows that you should be out there, mingling, having a drink, laughing along with everybody else.

But you’d much rather stay here, with Kuroo.

A question itches at the back of your mind. It’s one you’d rather not know the answer to, but it’s heavy enough to weigh on your conscience.

“How’d your date go the other week?” You ask, instantly regretting it. “You never texted me about it.”

“Ah…” Kuroo clears his throat, looking at the ground. “It didn’t work out.”

“Oh…” You say quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You do feel bad for him. But you feel worse about the relief flooding through your chest.

He doesn’t look too disappointed. Granted, you don’t know how much of that is because you want him to be not-disappointed.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo shrugs. “I mainly went on it to placate Bokuto.”

You frown at that. “Huh?”

“He thinks I should be going on more dates,” he grins. “Apparently, moping around doesn’t suit me.”

“Moping around?” You ask.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. He’s caught his own slip up before you could exploit it.

Kuroo says nothing more. The silence makes you uncomfortable; it’s not that you’re not used to the odd silence or two when it comes to Kuroo, but more the context. He’s always been notoriously tight-lipped about his love life, and you’ve never been brave enough to dig. There’s only one answer that you want to hear; but you’re certain you won’t hear it. No matter how much he flirts and teases.

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He twirls the eyeliner in his fingers, the metal casing catching the light. Oh, that’s right.

“Let me do it,” you say, before you’ve even processed the idea.

“Huh?” Kuroo looks up, raising an eyebrow at you.

This is your chance to back out. You can pretend you never said it, pretend you didn’t have that bizarre thought.

You hold out your hand expectantly. “Your eyeliner. Let me do it.”

He blinks at you for a moment, baffled. “You sure?”

“You’ll poke your eye out,” you say. “I know you’re shit when it comes to detail works.”

“Excuse me?” He scoffs. “I’ll have you know that I’m excellent at titrations.”

You hold your hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright… but if you go blind, don’t come crying to me about it.”

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, dropping the eyeliner into your outstretched hand. “But you have to do it standing up.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ah, but those are the stipulations—”

“On the bed,” you command. “Now.”

Oh. Whoops.

Kuroo’s face flushes a deep red. You realise the implications of your words too late.

But he sits himself on the bed, a good distance away from you.

You sigh, standing up and moving in front of him.

He’s just sitting there, and yet he’s frustratingly good-looking. He’s got no right, in your opinion. Especially when he doesn’t even bother to attend to his hair.

You bring one hand to his chin, tilting his face upwards to give you better access to his eyes. Big mistake.

He’s looking up at you expectantly with those golden-brown eyes of his, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted.

You try to ignore it, bringing the tip of the eyeliner to his waterline. You follow the curve of his eye gently, dragging the eyeliner along with quick, gentle strokes.

He’s looking at you still. Maybe you’d be flattered, or nervous, or maybe even excited. But his eyes keep fluttering shut, disrupting your progress.

“Look up,” you swallow nervously.

“One moment,” he mumbles, shifting to take his jacket off.

That just makes things worse – now his frustratingly muscular arms are in view. He doesn’t show them off often, but you’re grateful for any chance you get to admire them.

It’s frustrating, really; Kuroo had never really been hot in high school. Sure, he’d been a cut above the rest, but hormonal teenage boys weren’t exactly tough competition.

Besides, you hadn’t really gotten to know him until university. It just so happened that you were going to the same place, and you’d reached out to each other more because you didn’t want to be alone and less because you were particularly close.

That being said, you’d become close quite quickly. Quickly enough to make you regret spending all those years of high school specifically avoiding boys. Most of them probably weren’t worth your time, but you had a feeling Kuroo would’ve been.

“Your lipstick looks nice.”

The compliment almost makes you stab him in the eye.

“Thanks,” you blush. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

“There’s very little you can’t pull off,” he chuckles.

Your blush deepens, trying to stop your mind from wandering too far. Although you’d done a terrible job at that so far.

“You can’t just say things like that,” you pout. “You might give me the wrong idea.”

You never know if you should put distance between the two of you. Sometimes it feels like you’re too close, like no matter what, you’ll get hurt. Kuroo’s never mentioned being into anyone else, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility. He’s been on a date, after all. Even if it didn’t go particularly well.

“What if… it wasn’t the wrong idea?”

You freeze. “What?”

“What if… whatever you’re thinking… isn’t incorrect?” He says, staring at you boldly.

“What are you saying?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, a quick but steady rhythm thrumming through your body. The logical conclusion is obvious. But you don’t want to hope, just in case.

“What if the reason the date didn’t work out is because I realised that I’d much rather be spending time with you?”

The world stops around you.

Did he really just say that? Did he mean it?

His gaze is so heavy, so intense. You’ve caught him staring at you before; sometimes fondly enough to make you wonder, to make you hope.

But this? This is new. This is exciting.

You cup his face with both hands, eyeliner long forgotten as it clatters on the floor.

“Tetsu…” You murmur.

You’ve got no idea what’s happening. But you like it.

He holds your waist firmly, tilting his face upwards.

You’re not sure who moved first.

But his lips are on yours, hot and firm and hungry. You lean into it, threading your hands in his hair. His hands tighten on your waist, a soft moan rumbling from the back of his throat. You sigh in response, warmth coursing through your body.

God, you need this.

His hands move down from your waist to your hips, tugging you towards him.

You half-collapse against him, balancing yourself by propping a knee either side of his lap.

Are you really going to… right now? With Kuroo? For the first time? But you haven’t even been on a date yet. You haven’t even told him how you feel – not that it really matters.

You know you want this.

You know you want him.

He moans again, the sound making your shiver. He wants this too.

Have you really been so blind? The way he’s kissing you, the way he’s holding you, the way he–

A knock on the door.

You shoot to your feet, stepping back from him.

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment, both of you wide-eyed and owlish.

Another knock breaks through the silence.

“What?” Kuroo shouts. He sounds just as frustrated as you are.

“What are you doing in there?” Someone calls back.

It sounds like Iwaizumi. He’s perhaps one of the last people you’d want walking in on you like this. But at least he’s one of the few people at this party who’d actually knock instead of just barging in. God forbid someone like Atsumu catching the two of you like this.

“None of your business,” Kuroo growls. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to know when you’re going to come and join the land of the living.”

The two of you exchange a glance. How long has it been? You’ve honestly lost track.

“Soon,” Kuroo says. “Just… give me a minute.”

The sound of footsteps fades away. Kuroo lolls his head back, sighing.

“Is it okay if we take a raincheck?” He asks, smirking at you.

You roll your eyes, standing up. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Oh?” He grins sitting forward. “Is that so? That’s not the impression I got when you—”

You lean down and kiss him firmly. His yelp is muffled by your lips, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he reaches a hand up to cup the back of your head.

You stand up straight and flick him on the forehead. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Fine,” he sighs, standing up and ambling towards the door.

He grins at you from over his shoulder, his chin smeared with an embarrassing amount of black lipstick.

“Wait!” You grab his wrist, pulling him back.

“What?” He blinks, turning to look at you.

You point at the black smeared all over his chin. “Maybe you should deal with that.”

Kuroo frowns, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “Oh,” he blinks. “Right.”

He lifts his wrist to wipe it away. It doesn’t work very well.

You lower yourself to your knees, plopping your “purse” in front of you, digging around in it for a second. The makeup wipes are easy to find, squishy and rectangular as they are. You’d primarily brought them for Hiromi – just in case she needed to de-zombify herself before engaging in certain scandalous activities.

You pull out a single wipe and hold it up to Kuroo. He takes it from you and sinks to the ground, long legs sticking out in awkward directions.

“Use one of these,” you giggle.

He doesn’t need further instruction, peering at himself closely as he vigorously rubs the wipe all over his chin. You’ll tell him not to be so rough with his skin later down the line.

“You did a good job on the eyeliner,” Kuroo says. He sounds a little too surprised by that fact for your liking.

“And you messed up my lipstick,” you grumble, fetching your own wipe and dabbing it around your mouth. You can’t be as rough as him; you have foundation to account for and having half of it missing from the lower half of your face is arguably just as suspicious as smeared lipstick.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” he grins.

You nudge him in the chest with your elbow, eliciting an “oof!”

“Don’t push your luck,” you murmur, biting back a smile.

The two of you attend to your respective cosmetic predicaments. It’s a comfortable silence, one where neither of you have to worry about hiding anything.

It’s even nicer than you could’ve imagined.

“Hey, so…” Kuroo clears his throat, a touch of pink to his cheeks. “What are you doing next Tuesday?”

His bravado is almost entirely gone, dissipated into the dark of the night.

“Nothing,” you smirk. “Why?”

“No reason,” he grins.

You elbow him sharply. Stupid jerk.

“I’m kidding,” he cackles, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest.

You have half a mind to fight, but what you really want to do is give in. He’s warm, and you rather like being this close to him.

“How does dinner sound?” His breath tickles against your ear as he speaks in a tone deeper than usual.

You smile, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Can’t wait.”

Pick a different room: > Go to the open bedroom. > Go to the balcony. > Go to the kitchen. > Go to the hallway. > Go to the bathroom. > Go to the living room.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #the witching hour

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soliverse · 3 years

Text

winter promises - q.kn

pairing: gangster au!kun x student!reader

genre: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

warnings: mentions of violence, death, injury and bullying (they weren’t explicitly shown but they were mentioned by the characters. nothing too graphic or triggering.)

word count: 2323

ps: hello @strykiss! I got chosen as your secret santa this year. I debated whether to post From Home or Winter Promises at the last minute but this was the fic that I promised you at my ask. Sorry it took a while :< I hope you liked it.

Winter Promises is a part of the Secret Santa Collab by @lucaswithnoshirt and @bumblebeenct. This is my very first collab and I’m thankful that you have let me be a part of it.

If you want to read the other fics created by the other amazing nct writers, just head over to @neoculturechristmas for the other secret santa entries.

networks: @nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape

The harshness of the winter has never felt colder than today. Just a few weeks ago, you planned to visit your brother James and spend the rest of Christmas break together. Everything changed when you received a call from the police a few days ago. You almost broke down when they told you about your brother’s passing.

You lived in a different area from your brother because you had to go to school. All this time, you believed that your brother is a salesman. That’s how he was able to pay for college fees and living expenses. Little did you know, he was actually hiding a secret from you.

The police found his body after a gang fight. After a bit of an investigation, they discovered that your brother is actually a member of one of the notorious gangs in the area. He is one of the Guardias. They are people of the night, lurking in the shadows and can only be identified by the tattoo of a black wolf in their forearms. That explains why he wore those long sleeves all of the time whenever he visits, even when in the blistering heat. He just used the excuse that he had to look professional at all times

What’s worse about his death is you had no other living relatives. You were both orphans that got kicked out of the systems when you got older. Nobody attended his funeral but the priest and yourself.

You stood at the middle of the field alone, the cemetery wrapped in a think blanket of snow. You did nothing for the past few hours but stood there in front of his grave and stared blankly at his epitaph.

IN MEMORIAM

JAMES Y/L/N

March 31, 199x – December 20, 20xx

A LOVING BROTHER

Reading the engraved letters made you tear up again.

You just can’t believe that he had to die like this, that he had to lie to make you feel better. You wondered how much he had to suffer just seconds before he dies, recalling the horrible state of his body when they discovered him. Just thinking about it made you shake from anger and grief. It didn’t take long before you broke down and sat right next to the grave hugging your knees.

“Hey…”

You were interrupted by a concerned Kun. He pulled you towards him and wrapped his loving arms around you.

“Sorry for being late.”

You desperately needed someone that day and him coming meant the world to you. If there’s someone that will understand what you are currently going through, it would be him. Just like the two of you, he’s also alone because he had to study overseas. He had a brotherly bond with James, like he’s an extension of your brother. James would always tell Kun that he would be the one to take care of you while he’s gone. It’s safe to say that he still fulfilled that promise.

“I’m sorry you had to spend Christmas like this…”

Eventually, he took your hands to find a nearby bench that you can sit comfortably. He started patting your head and never let go of you until you stopped crying.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming.”

He handed you a handkerchief from his pockets so you can wipe your tears away. His hand still remained your shoulders, patting it gently to calm you down.

“If it makes you feel any better, I got a gift for you.”

He started patting all over his winter coat and his pockets to look for something. Taking it out on one of his inner pockets, he pulled out a box wrapped with a tiny red bow on top. You opened it right away and there was a unique bracelet inside of it.

“Merry Christmas Y/N. I made a promise to James when he’s still alive...”

He took your hand and placed the bracelet in your palms.

“As long as you’re wearing this, James and I will always be with you…”

Your heart melted as he said this to you. You couldn’t help yourself but to hug him once again. His touch felt like summer on this cold, winter night.

///

About a few weeks passed by and your classes resumed once again. You used that supposed break to mourn over James and help yourself to get over from his loss. Kun had a part-time job to attend to, but he always made sure to check on you from time to time.

Wintertime still surrounded the area, but some people already took down their decorations and things went back to normal. As you skipped across the snowy road, you couldn’t help but stare at the thing that’s jingling in your right arm. You stopped on your tracks and held it up to the sky. Your eyes squinted, trying to look for something special in the bracelet that the Kun gave you for Christmas.

It was the single thing that made you smile every day. His words repeated in your head like a broken record and you can’t help but blush at the thought of it. You always this little crush on him even before, but his caring nature the past couple of weeks make your heart flutter even more. This made you unconsciously touch it. You raised your arm up to your eye level and you finally realized that the bracelet is held together by two wolves, one on each side of the bracelet. You wondered why this was the design that he chose, considering that it doesn’t look that girly. It was weird, but you just shrugged it off when you realized that you still have to walk to school.

///

You came just shy a few minutes before the class starts. The professor is still out of sight, so you bowed to greet everyone inside before you walk towards your desk. The class didn’t pay you any attention. It’s always been that way ever since you got admitted to the school. Making friends is hard when people judge you from the way that you dress or the life that you live in every day. You don’t get to wear nice cloths just like everybody else because you liked to save your money for things that are more important.

The other girls would roll their eyes out and point out how worn out your uniform looks or make gestures behind your back. It stayed that way for years, but you never had the guts to tell Kun or James. You have to be strong for yourself sometimes and just ignored their mockery.

You were taking out the textbooks from your bag when you overheard the other girls squealing excitedly at each other. One of them is your classmate Lilith. Everyone thinks she’s so cool because she has a gangster boyfriend that buys her expensive stuff. It’s probably another designer brand bag or something.

“It looks so pretty! Have you tried using it yet?”

You swear that you can sense Lilith’s condescending smirk even when your back is turned against her.

“I haven’t actually. But he said it’s suuuuppppeeeer expensive. Like, it’s worth more than anything he’s ever bought me. I can’t wait to use it at clubs tonight!”

She said in this exaggerated tone that you hate. She had this habit of making herself extra loud so that you’ll hear what she’s trying. You roll your eyes internally and just proceeded to open your notes and tried to recall the lessons that you had for the past few weeks.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t look that much…”

“Ugh…” She sounded so offended at her friend’s remark.

“This bracelet are only given to very special people. It means they are under the protection of the whole group. It means nobody is allowed to touch the very fiber of her being. I can basically do whatever I want and no one will stop me.”

Your hopes of concentrating on your lessons was completely thrown out of the window. At a desperate attempt to keep your sanity intact, you cupped both of your ears with your hands.

“Special, huh? Then why does Y/N have one too?”

“There’s no way…”

You yelped as you felt someone yank out your hand away from your head.

“What do you want, Lilith?”

She yanked it again towards her face and so she can get a better view of your right hand.

“Hey! Let me go!”

You tried grabbing your hand away from her at the same time that she lets go of your hand aggressively, the force sending you off to the floor.

“So, you got claimed too huh?”

You glared at her direction, but the bright red thing on her wrists caught your attention. It looked similar to your bracelet, the only difference being that it was red and the wolf was replaced with a silver dragon. It’s strikingly similar to the one you’re currently wearing.

“I wonder which lowlife scum you had to sleep with just so you can have one of those.”

She folded her arms and scoffed at your direction

“Of course. It had to be one of those filthy G-.”

A stern voice interrupted her from the front door.

“Watch your mouth, Lilith.”

The voice came from Kun, you looked incredibly pissed.

“Leave her alone. She just lost her brother.”

Lilith opened her mouth again but Kun just raised his eyebrows at her. His gaze seemed to be sending her a message that only the two of them can understand.

The stand-off have successfully shut Lilith down as she begrudgingly went back to her desk. The professor came right after, so Kun smiled sweetly at your direction before he sat down at his desk.

You got up from the floor and dusted the dirt off of your uniform, still completely oblivious at what just happened. It made you a bit more self-conscious now that everyone has their eyes on you. Thankfully, the professor caught everyone’s attention and your class proceeded as usual.

It didn’t take long before lunch break comes and the bell rang. As soon as the last professor left the door, everyone’s attention was back on you once again. You just sat there awkwardly as you waited for everyone to leave the classroom, not really sure what else to do about this situation.

Kun felt your uneasiness. He stood up from his chair and offered his hand to help you stand up from your chair. Your smile grew wider once again as you took his hand and you walked together to your usual place in the cafeteria.

The both of you took your seats and brought out your lunchbox with you. You took out your lunch, which was a simple meal composed of eggs, bacon and a cup of rice. When took out his containers, you remembered that your bestfriend is actually a bit of a masterchef. There were several varieties of home-cooked meals from his lunchbox. There are dumplings, warm chicken soup, and some of which you don’t even know the names of.

“I made extra so we can share...”

You can tell that there was extra care given to the meals that he made. This man just never fails to amaze you. Looking around the cafeteria, everyone felt the same way. Some of the other girls looked at you with what you can assume is jealousy written all over their faces.

“You know, the girls of this school hate me because they thought I’m your girlfriend right.” He laughed at your comment, his eyes completely disappearing from the stretch of his smile.

“If you’re actually dating me, then I’ll be the luckiest man alive.”

You felt heat coming up from your face, unsure if it was because of his laugh or the thing that he said. Instead of answering him, you took some of the fried rice that he made and stuffed your mouth to hide your embarrassment.

Time passed and you’re about to walk home as well. Kun called out your name and offered to walk you home. You felt some dirty glance being thrown away at your direction once again, but for once, you didn’t mind them.

“Just making sure got home safe.” He explained when you asked him on the way. It’s a sweet gesture from his part once again, but he’s been acting weird throughout the walk. His eyes kept on looking from left to right, as if he’s looking for something.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He relaxed and his cheery self appeared in front of you once again.

As soon as you got inside your house and closed the door behind you, he started to walk along the snowy road. His uneasiness crept back in, looking left and right to make sure that no one is following him.

His whole demeanor changed as soon as he entered his territory. The apartment that you thought he’s staying in is actually the headquarters of a secret gang that’s meant to protect the whole city. Men lined up in his path, bowing at his presence. At his room, he took off layers of his winter clothing, finally revealing a secret that he’s also been hiding from you. It was a tattoo of a black wolf, only given to the elite members of Guardia.

He sat on his couch and grabbed his phone to dial someone’s number.

“Yes, boss?”

“Hey Xuxi, would you mind giving the Kids a call?”

“Sure. What for?”

“Tell Chan that one of his bitches is misbehaving…”

He rested his head and closed his eyes, reminded of how you were treated earlier by Lilith.

“If he doesn’t do anything about it, I will. Make that very clear to him, unless he wants me to break his other arm.”

“I’m on it, sir.”

The call dropped and his phone was now showing his wallpaper, a candid picture that he took without you knowing.

The other gangs have been becoming bold lately and have orchestrating attacks from left to right. Knowing them, he’s sure that they’ll be going after the next Guardia successor, you.

///

“Protect Y/N at all cost. It won’t take long before the world knows about her real identity.”

That is a promise that he’s willing to keep, even to his death.

#nctcreations #kdiarynet #kpopscape #neoculturechristmas #secret santa collab #nct #wayv #nct fic #wayv fics #kun x reader #qian kun #gangster au #winter promises #soliverse

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mlkytobio · 4 years

Text

loving isn’t easy, but it’s bearable with you

a/n: for the cheese cult fic event <3 i tried my best lol

genre: little bit of angst if you squint + fluff // hanahaki au

warning: mentions of blood, but nothing too graphic

pairing: nishinoya x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

the hanahaki disease was something that everyone knew of. there were people covered head to toe in flowers, each one a reminder of a time where they had loved. and then there were the few lucky ones, the ones who just happened to have their soulmate as their first love. the ones with only a small flower tattoo over one of their body parts.

everyone covered all over with tattoos always knew that it was harmless at first, little flower petals being spat out, and then becoming thorns that scratch the inside of your throat as they come up. the process of coughing out the flowers was always quick, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. more often than not, blood comes out with the flowers and thorns. it depends though, on the type of love.

you had fallen in love exactly three times. and for one of those three times, you had a trail of forget-me-nots trailing up your right forearm. for the memories of true love, and like the name suggested, “do not forget me”. for the time you had loved miya osamu and he loved you back, and it only ended because you had to move to miyagi. maybe there were more reasons for it, but it was a mutual agreement. he was your first love.

terushima yuuji was your second love. and as a result, tulips bloomed across your left wrist, for unrequited love. and it was also the first thing people see when they looked at you. because well, the flower was highlighted with red, like blood, almost. maybe it was a little cliche, for you to have fallen in love with johzenji’s resident playboy. but you couldn’t help it. every little smile he sent you while from his usual seat at the cafe you worked at, every brush of your fingers against his when you went to take his order sending electricity running up your spine.

with osamu, it had been small flower petals and smiles about the flowers that came tumbling out. sometimes you even saved the flowers, but they wilted soon after. still, before you knew that osamu felt the same way,the coughing out the flowers wasn't painful. but why was it with terushima? there were thorns sitting in the bathroom sink, crimson red pooling all around them. and it only got worse after that.

still, you fell in love with terushima yuuji. you fell for his smirk and his tongue piercing and his sly words. and when he walked into the cafe that day, he broke your heart, having a girl draped on his arm and she looked at him the way you thought you looked at him. he broke your heart unknowingly, perhaps, but it was heartbreak all the same. you half expected it, but there was a part of you that hoped, nevertheless, that he would feel the same way.

that day, you coughed out tulips among pools of blood, and it was in the same night that you chose to go get the surgery. you knew you were one of the more privileged to get the surgery, and it was foolish to waste it on a teenager’s stupid crush. but it was better to have others look at you with pity. maybe it was a little dramatic, but you knew you were doomed from the start. this only gave you more reason to do it.

the doctor had given you a look of pity, but everyone did. everyone saw the way you looked at terushima yuuji and felt nothing but pity. and if that doctor expected a story, he had to wait a damn long time for it.

it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. just prickling along the skin, and then when you looked down, your left forearm was covered in blood-red tulips. maybe it didn’t hurt because the thorns had hurt more. the unrequited love hurt much more than getting your lungs pried open than living with thorns creeping up your throat every single day for the rest of your life, knowing that once upon a time you were stupid enough to fall in love with terushima yuuji.

everyone at karasuno knew you as the girl who couldn’t live with her love anymore. the girl who squandered away her privilege for the surgery for a mere high school crush.

the volleyball team were the first people who understood your decision. the first people who didn’t talk about you behind your back about how you wasted your probably only chance of getting the surgery and how you were a spoiled brat that deserved the pain anyways. you had heard of every single rumour that people spread about you, and although you tried to ignore them, they were like a thousand little knives cutting into your back every single day.

the volleyball team was where you felt at home. the sleek wood floor of the gym and the frequent shout, mostly from kageyama to hinata. there was some sort of solace in the walls of the gym, almost like it was its own little world set apart from all the rumours on the outside.

becoming their manager was one of the best choices you ever made.

“y/l/n! come and see my new move!” you looked over to nishinoya, his blond tuft of hair slicked against his forehead. you smiled to yourself, knowing that it was probably some other variation of rolling thunder or of the sort. still, it was one of the things you loved most about practice, the players’ enthusiasm and desire to win was forever unwavering.

nishinoya received the ball in a sort of speed that made you dizzy when you first saw it, but even after so long your eyes could only adjust slightly to it. he’s grinning, and you couldn’t help but give a smile back, because it’s nishinoya yuu and his energetic self that could put everyone to shame.

you never paid much attention to nishinoya yuu. sure, he got suspended from the volleyball club for a month for breaking something, but you saw what happened. you saw that he didn’t mean to, that he was just trying to get his friend back. the blond tuft in his hair was the first thing you saw when you first stepped into the classroom, but still, you never stopped and looked at him carefully. until you joined the volleyball club as a manager, and then suddenly you see the bright energy surrounding the short libero, and wondered how exactly did you not notice him before.

you chalked it up to curiosity, to the strange spike of his hair and the way a room lit up somehow when he walked into it.this boy was like the sun, too bright for his own good and probably burns anyone who got too close.

practices only made you notice him more, of course. and maybe he noticed you too, from all the little smiles that looked like they were directed at you and the glances he kept giving you.

to most people, flowers were things of beauty, but to you, they represented a dark time. they represented getting your heart broken and the person who broke it didn’t even know. love was the same, crushing and suffocating you, and the two just so happened to be linked. every flower you saw, especially tulips, made you turn away at the sight. so did love.

love was a curious little thing, taunting you and when it pulled you in, only then will it reveal itself to be deadly. coiling around you, your heart, more like it, and every waking thought, like some sort of boa. it suffocates you, then brings you down with it.

nishinoya yuu heard about you before he even met you. about the girl who had red tulips imprinted on her skin, basically a form of public shaming. he never thought about you as someone who wasted away their chances, though. everyone had heard of at least one story where because of love, people had squandered away their lives, and he was no exception. your life was more precious than some unrequited love, so what was wrong with getting the surgery? he had never understood why people held a grudge against you, and so did the rest of the volleyball team.

most of the second years walked home together, and you were in front of nishinoya when he suddenly grabbed onto your shoulders and started jumping up and down in the air. you saw him doing this before, but with other members of the team, and your first thought was: why did he have so much strength?

“oi, noya! don’t be so hard on our manager!” tanaka laughed, and noya’s hands released their grip on your shoulders, his face cherry red. you found it a little cute, actually, if it weren’t for the ache in your shoulders from how tightly he had held on to them.

“i’m so sorry y/n-san!” he sputtered out, even as you said that it was fine, you weren’t injured, but as he kept apologising, all you could say in that moment was “okay, then i’ll let you make it up to me.”

his head lifted up, eyes filled with something indescribable, as he agreed. “i promise you that i’ll make it up to you, y/l/n-san! i’ll take you out on saturday!”

a flower petal was floating in his teacup when he sat it down. you looked at him, surprised, but stayed silent, giving him a napkin. he looked at you with a grateful look in his eyes, the tuft of blond hair being swept to the back as he ran his fingers through his hair.

it was spring in japan, when all the sakura flowers started blooming and there were couples all around you. you never liked spring, or maybe you did, and the hanahaki just made you despise it. anything related to flowers you didn’t like, you realised.

“do you know who is it?” you gently asked as both of you walked down the street together. the pink flowers were everywhere, on the cobblestone path that your shoes scuffed against, and on the tall trees looming over you. he looked at you then, slightly surprised, but answered it anyway.

“i think so, i mean, i have a vague idea of who it is,” he gave a reply that was strange of nishinoya, but perhaps it was due to the fact you weren’t that close with him as you were with maybe tanaka, or ennoshita.

“well, i hope they feel the same way,” you gave him a small smile, and he returned it, but there was something lurking deeper in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

he walked you home, and when you were about to say goodbye, his gaze fixated on you, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t want to.

you were about to ask what was it when he yelled out, “y/l/n-san, i like you!”

how ironic, was the first thing that went through your mind. how ironic that you were intrigued by him and now here he was, confessing to you. how ironic it was that this exact scene gave you deja vu, of when you confessed to osamu. how ironic it was that when the thing you tried so hard to avoid doing turned into you being on the receiving end of it. falling in love.

“i-i’m sorry, nishinoya-kun, but i don’t really want to fall in love right now,” the words left your lips before your mind could even register them. his face fell at that, and you wished you could take it all back, say that you would give him a chance, but all he said was “that’s okay! i hope you can reconsider. have a good night y/l/n-san!”

you watched his figure retreat into the shadows, until all you could see was the faint outline of him walking. you thought about his words, and of a time you loved terushima yuuji. the memories of that were laced with regret, but then again, when you loved him, and osamu at that, all you could feel was pure euphoria. the climax of a roller coaster ride, when you’re tipping at the top and it felt like forever before it made its decent again.

hoodies weren’t your favourite piece of clothing, but they made well for covering the red ink on your forearm. as you pulled the hood over your head again, hoping to cover your face, you heard the familiar jeer. it wasn’t foreign for you to have insults hurled wherever you go, only for the person who shouted them to disappear into the crowd when you looked over your shoulder. and so, you always said to yourself not to look. it was better not to place a face to the voice.

“attention-seeking bitch,” you heard someone mutter, followed by the laughing. don’t look, don’t look, was all you thought as you made your way through the crowd in the hallways.

“i hope whoever you ‘loved’ is dating someone much better and more deserving right now,” was one of the more prominent insults that were in your range of hearing. gasping to yourself, you felt an empty ache in your chest, probably where your feelings had been. still, it hurt. it hurt for people to not understand your decision, for them to constantly belittle and insult you as if pain was something to be made fun of. you felt blood rushing in your ears, vision growing blurry as you tried to walk, run, even, out of that hellhole. throat constricting and breathing growing ragged.

“stop!” you heard someone say. you only increased your pace. “stop it, right now. all of you.”

it wasn’t directed at you, but to the people crowding around you. “it’s not funny to ridicule someone who has been through pain,” you recognised the voice this time. the voice of the person who constantly shouted excitedly in practice, even at the smallest things. nishinoya yuu.

he walked over to you, placing his hands lightly on your shoulders as he led you away from the gaping students. “if you feel uncomfortable, i’ll stop right now,” he whispered, just loud enough for your ears to pick up. you shook your head, the only thing you could muster then.

he led you to an isolated space behind the gym, where only then did you release your tears. and he was there, not uttering a single word, just silent companionship, and that was enough.

as you regained your breath, a single flower petal floated delicately out of your lips. he noticed it too.

“thank you, nishinoya-kun,” you said, gaze not leaving the flower as it sailed on the wind. no blood or thorns, though, you thought.

“i feel like the word love has been taken out of definition with me,” you whispered. “but i want to give you a chance, at changing the definition with me.”

he smiled at you, his hands on your shoulder once again. “i’d like that.”

the sakura flowers were in bloom yet again, and for once, you found them beautiful.

“do you remember-” the boy started, but you cut him off.

“when you took me out as an apology for jumping on my shoulders? yeah,” you grinned.

“i always thought you were beautiful, you know. and never understood why you got made fun of for choosing to have the surgery,” he said.

“well, i’m glad they did. it led me to you, didn’t it?” you smiled at him.

his hand found yours, and the two of you walked down the same cobblestone path you did a year ago. maybe love wasn’t easy, but there were some people that made it bearable. like nishinoya yuu.

and that was the third time you fell in love.

[ cheese cult bbys: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @bubbleteaa @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei @pineapplekween @estherwritess @keiji-n @achoohq @badlywritten-hq @mochibeaa @oinkanna @chxrry-wxne @spudicide @airybby @asranomical @karmasuna @nekoglasses ]

#cheese cult fic event #hanahacheese #cheese cult #haikyuuwritersnet #hqappreciation #underratedhq #hanahaki au #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu imagines

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fantastic-bby · 4 years

Text

Inked

Pairing: (F)Reader x Mark

Word count: 6.6k (my writing’s starting to get slightly longer owo)

Genre: Romance, soulmate au, Idol!Mark, Non-Idol!Reader

Summary: In a world where the tattoos would be shared among soulmates, Mark uses this to his advantage in an attempt in locating his soulmate. Unexpectedly, his soulmate ends up getting a tattoo that’s completely different than what he would usually get in an attempt to remind him that she exists. Unbeknownst to them, her tattoo is the one that brings them together...

Warnings: None

Playlist: Falling For You - Peachy! || Chocolate - The 1975 || Let Me - Got7 || Page - Got7

Soulmate series: Jaebeom - Strings || Jackson - Bubbles || Jinyoung - Masked || Youngjae - Drawings || BamBam - Footprints || Yugyeom - Pieces

The stinging on your calf was what woke you up. You moved to the full body mirror to see what it was and was shocked to see a large cross forming on your now irritated skin. You scrunch your face in annoyance; whatever tattoo your soulmate would get would appear on your own skin.

You had already gone through three other tattoos and you felt every second of the needle as the designs were unwantedly inked into your skin.

You had yet to find your soulmate and it seemed as though they just didn’t seem to bother that their soulmate would have the same tattoos and feel the same pain. It was a bit strange, but the only marks that you two would share were tattoos. Other soulmates would share bruises and feel pain whenever their soulmate would get injured, but not you.

You only got their tattoos.

The first and second tattoos that appeared were a pair of dates written in roman numbers on your rib cage. You hated the fact that your soulmate chose their first tattoo on one of the most painful places to get a tattoo since you had to experience the grueling pain of it.

The second tattoo that appeared was the word “Truth” on your inner bicep. You actually admired that tattoo. There was probably a more meaningful story behind it from your soulmate’s side, but you liked it because somehow, it resonated with you.

This cross that was drawn on your calf was the third. Despite how beautiful the cross was turning out, you were annoyed that it woke you up at 2 a.m. You scolded your soulmate in your mind as you made your way back into bed - being careful not to bump your calf anywhere - and decided to try and sleep.

You woke up in the morning to the sound of your roommate moving around the apartment.

“Haneul eonnie?” You questioned tiredly when you saw her limping towards the kitchen from her room.

“Did I wake you?” She asked as she turned to you, “Leo got a tattoo on his fucking foot. It hurts like hell.” She grumbled when she showed the outline of a rose on her foot.

“Damn,” You muttered out with a yawn, “I have a huge cross on my calf.” You turned around to show her the design.

“Your soulmate really likes tattoos.” She pointed out as she pulled out a few eggs from the fridge.

“It seems that way.” You sighed as you made your own way into the kitchen and pulled bacon out of the freezer. “I already have three other tattoos and whoever it is just keeps adding to it.” You mutter out.

“They’re pretty, though.” Haneul points out as she turned the stove on, “I guess we’re both lucky our soulmates have nice tastes in tattoos.” She chuckles.

“It might be a bit of a problem since the cross is in more of an obvious place,” You point out as you turn down to look at it, “But I think it’s really nice.” You smiled as you admire the rose design that filled the inside of the cross.

“Why don't you get a tattoo?” She questioned.

“I technically already have.” You looked at her in confusion as you gestured to the cross and the one on your inner bicep.

“No, I mean why not you get one in person. Challenge your soulmate, (Y/n).” She clarified, “Get something simple but in a place they’ll have to look at all the time. Then they’ll remember that their tattoos are projected onto another person.” She explained.

“I’ll think about it.” You nodded. You did think about it. The thought sat in your head for the next few days. It was a good idea to get back at your soulmate for inking themselves constantly and causing you pain and discomfort.

That led you to looking up small but cute tattoos while you sit in your room with your laptop in front of you. You were looking at an abundance of designs but only one seemed to stand out from the rest. You saved the design into your phone and left your room to see Haneul sitting on her couch with her soulmate - who also happened to be your best friend - Leo.

“I think I finally found a design that I like.” You announced to the two and showed them your phone. Haneul moved forward a bit to get a closer look at it,

“Cute.” She smiled.

“It’s simple.” Leo nodded.

“Where are you getting it?” Haneul asked when she leaned back against the couch.

“Probably on the collarbone. I don’t feel like troubling them too much with it. I just want to let them know, ‘hey, I’m here’.” You said as you looked at the design once again.

“Why a paper plane?” Leo questioned as he slung his arm around Haneul’s shoulders.

“I just think it’s cute.” You shrugged. “I don’t really have a meaning for it. It’s cute, it’s small and I think it’ll be a nice tattoo.” You look away from your phone to look at him nodding.

“It is cute. But if you guys end up meeting because of this tattoo, let each other know if you’re getting another one.” Haneul grumbled when she glanced over at Leo.

“I gave you a heads up.” He defended himself.

“Yeah, while you were getting the tattoo.” She snapped at him. “I think it's a nice tattoo, (Y/n).”

“When are you getting it? I can take you to the place I got mine.” Leo offered.

“Really?” You questioned. When he nodded, you smiled, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“What about today?” She suggested. “You’ll be done in no time. It’s small.” She turned to her soulmate who shrugged.

“I’m free anytime this week.”

“I don’t really want to disturb your together time so I’ll get it tomorrow.” You shake your head.

“If you get it later, I’ll follow. I wanna see your reaction when you get the tattoo.” Haneul gave you a cheeky smile.

At the tattoo parlor was where Haneul followed you and Leo. You gave in after a while and just decided ‘fuck it’. Leo drove the two of you into town where the parlor was and you couldn’t help but feel nervous as you looked at the design on your phone throughout the drive.

“Are you coming in?” Haneul asked Leo when he parked the car outside the parlor.

“I’m not missing (Y/n) getting her first tattoo.” He snorted as he unclipped the seatbelt. “I know the guy who owns this place so it’ll be nice to talk to him again.” He led you inside the small lot and greeted the man at the counter. The man had a complete tattoo sleeve covering his right arm and what looked like a half finished sleeve on his other.

“Hyung!” The man’s face lit up when he saw him walk in, the name Han written on a nametag on his shirt. “Getting another tattoo?” He asked but when his eyes moved to the two of you following behind Leo he understood, “Ah, okay. I assume one of them is getting it.”

“Yeah, Haneul isn’t exactly happy that I got the tattoo without telling her.” Leo chuckled and gestured his head over to Han when he looked at you.

“This one?” He questioned. You nodded shyly and pulled your phone out of the pocket of your shorts to show him the design. Han looked at it and led you behind the black curtains that separate the rooms.

“How long will it take?” You questioned as the nerves continued to build up when your brain realised what you were doing.

“It’s a small tattoo. Probably an hour or two. Maybe less.” He shrugs as he pats on the leather chair. You sit in the chair and feel your palms start to sweat as Haneul and Leo watch you from the door.

“We can’t join you over there because of a sanitary issue.” Leo informed when he remembered how his own friend had to wait for him when he was getting his tattoo. You watched Han move back and forth at the shelves.

“No colours?” He glanced over at you when he sat at the sketching table. You bit your lip as you thought about it while looking at your phone.

“A splash of watercolour behind it?” Your voice came out small when you felt as though the colouring would make it into too much of a cliche tattoo.

“Alright.” He smiled kindly as he started to sketch out the tattoo. “Do you have any other tattoos?” He asked without taking his attention off of the paper.

“I have another three but it’s because my soulmate keeps getting tattoos.” You extend your leg out to show him the cross on your calf.

“Your soulmate seems to have an eye for tattoos or some kind of common sense not to get anything stupid tattooed on them. That’s a really lovely tattoo.” He hummed out as he stood up, “How’s this?” He showed you the stencil of the paper plane. He had added a trail of dotted lines and outlines of clouds. “I’ll colour in the clouds, don’t worry.” He smiled and moved over to the chair that was beside you when you nodded. You pulled down the strap of your tank top to expose your collarbone.

He placed the stencil onto your skin and pulled the paper away to reveal the blue outline of the design before rubbing your skin with numbing gel.

The sound of the tattoo gun starting only heightened your nerves and your entire body was starting to sweat. Haneul and Leo continued to watch, both with pure amusement plastered all over their faces when the needle hit your skin.

“Holy shit!” You yelped out. The constant sting of the needle got worse when it got closer to your collarbone and you could feel actual tears pricking your eyes from how painful it was.

“Yeah, the collarbone is pretty painful.” Han chuckled as he continued his work. You glared at Haneul when she started to giggle at you.

“(Y/n) just has a low pain tolerance.” She snickered at you when you managed to give her the middle finger.

“It’s not a problem.” Han glanced up at you for a moment. “It hurts more to get the tattoo yourself compared to when your soulmate gets one.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” You mutter through a grimace. “This hurts way more than the rib cage one they got.” You glanced down to see him still outlining the plane.

After another agonizing hour and a half, the tattoo was done. Han moved up from you and put away the tattoo gun on the metal table.

“Finished.” He clapped his gloved hands together. “You guys can come closer now.” He ushered over the couple standing by the doorway.

“You feeling okay?” Haneul asked as she moved over to your side. You nodded at her and adjusted yourself in your seat, your lower half feeling numb from sitting for too long.

“Yeah, it became bearable after a while.” You mutter out.

“You can take a look at it in the mirror over there.” Han pointed out to the full body mirror sitting in the corner of the room as he prepared the plastic wrap. You moved over to the mirror and looked at the tattoo.

“Oh, it’s so cute.” You cooed with a smile growing on your face when you saw the design sitting right under your collarbone.

“Now, you have something that contrasts the tattoos your soulmate keeps getting.” She smiled when she looked at the tattoo through the mirror as well.

»»————-　　————-««

“Woah, that’s new.” Jackson pointed out when Mark sat up, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He squinted his eyes at his roommate through the pain of the throbbing headache; a painful souvenir from the night before.

“What?” He muttered out.

“You have a new tattoo.” Jackson pointed at the irritated skin of his collarbone. Mark looked down and his eyes widened when he saw the paper plane. “I guess your soulmate’s tired of you always getting tattoos.” He snickered. Mark groggily sat up from his bed and moved over to his closet, opening it to look in the mirror that hung off of the closet door.

“I guess they are.” He muttered when he got a full look at the new tattoo. He wasn’t used to any colour being on his tattoos, but he liked it. It was simple.

“It’s cute.” Jackson tilted his head to look at it properly. Mark nodded,

“I like it.” He stated, gently running his fingers along the red skin and being careful not to apply any pressure to it. “I wonder what timezone they’re in since it happened while I was sleeping.” He hummed out as he ran a hair through his messy bed hair.

“If you’re sleeping when this showed up, then that probably means you keep getting tattoos while they’re sleeping.” Jackson spoke as he threw on a shirt. Mark stared at himself in the mirror as he thought about it. A small sense of guilt washed over him when he realised that maybe they were sleeping whenever he was getting his tattoos.

“Damn,” Mark sighed out as he looked down at his rib cage through the mirror. “That makes me feel bad.”

“Maybe this is their way of reminding you they exist.” He joked.

Mark spent the next few days completely obsessed with his new tattoo. He strangely felt more connected to his soulmate even though the tattoo was the only response he had ever gotten from them. His group always caught him silently admiring the tattoo in between schedules whenever he’d be shirtless or whenever he was wearing a low cut shirt.

“Mark hyung, you’re really into it, huh?” Jinyoung asked when he walked into the changing room to see his older member staring at the vanity mirror while holding his shirt in his left hand.

“I just think it’s really cute.” Mark muttered out without much attention towards Jinyoung.

“Don’t spend too much time looking at it. We have to get ready for the show.”Jaebeom patted Mark on the back lightly as he walked past them.

Right, the show.

Mark was hoping that maybe he could find his soulmate wherever they were while they were on tour but so far he hadn’t felt much whenever they had fansigns or hi touches.

The rest of his group had described their experience with their soulmates as a fire in their soul being ignited. Mark remembered asking Jackson about how he felt when he met his soulmate and distinctly remembers their conversation that night in their hotel room.

“It felt like I suddenly saw everything in colour.” He explained. “I never knew how empty I actually felt until I met her.”

“Is it like how other people describe it?” Mark asked.

“Other people described it as an explosion in their soul. I think everyone feels it differently.” Jackson shrugged. “But I do remember feeling like everything in my body was just warm and I remember feeling so fucking happy.”

That was the feeling Mark was yearning for. The feeling of suddenly finding the person he was meant to spend forever with. The person he was connected with by soul.

“Do you think maybe he’ll meet them soon?” Yugyeom whispered to Youngjae as they stood at the other end of the room.

“Hopefully.” Youngjae shrugged. “He’s really into that tattoo. He doesn’t even appreciate his own tattoos this much.” He chuckled.

“The tour might make it easier, but what if his soulmate’s in a location we’re not going to?” BamBam mentioned, making them all turn to him.

“That is a possibility.” Youngjae nodded.

“They could be in Korea for all we know.” Yugyeom pointed out with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“He’s the only one who hasn’t found his soulmate yet. I feel bad for him.” BamBam sighed as they turned back to Mark to see him tracing his tattoo with his fingers.

“Attention away from him or he might get snappy.” Jinyoung ushered as he approached them. “You know how he feels about the whole soulmate issue.” He spoke to them softly.

“You feeling hopeful?” Jackson asked Mark, tearing his attention away from the tattoo to finally put on the black tank top he was wearing for the concert.

“About what?” Mark hummed out in question.

“The tattoo.” He turned to Jackson and shrugged,

“I don’t know when I’ll meet them or if I’ll ever meet them. I just like the tattoo and it makes me feel closer to them.” He smiled slightly at him but Jackson could see the sadness that was hiding behind his eyes.

They were all aware that Mark could be slightly sensitive about the topic of soulmates, but he never really showed much sensitivity unless he was angry. Jackson could see how much despair Mark was in that he still hadn’t even come close to finding his soulmate.

Every time Mark got a tattoo, he was secretly hoping he would find someone with the same exact tattoos. Thus, why he had gotten such a big tattoo in such an obvious place. He was hoping that he would bump into someone who had the same cross in the same place. He wanted to find his soulmate with the cross.

“Mark hyung.” Yugyeom’s voice pulled Mark out of thought and made him turn to his younger member. “We need to go.” He gestured his head to the stage and Mark nodded,

“Okay, let’s go.”

»»————-　　————-««

You opened the front door with your eyes squinted at Leo.

“Haneul eonnie isn’t here.” You grumble out as you rub your eyes from the evening nap that Leo had ever so rudely woken you from by ringing your doorbell.

“Is it wrong for me to see my best friend? I needed to see you.” He said as he pushed past you and into the apartment. Your eyes only squinted even more at his words when you turn around to face him after you close the door.

“Oppa, I know I said you practically live here too, but seriously?” You throw your arms up in the air in annoyance when his back was turned to you with his attention on his phone. You cross your arms over your chest when he turns around and holds his phone up in front of your face,

“Look familiar?” He questions. You let your eyes adjust to the screen and your jaw goes slack when you see what he’s talking about. You yanked his phone out of his hands and zoom in on the picture or the large cross tattooed on the calf of non other than Mark Tuan from Got7.

“Holy shit.” You mutter as you look back at him, “Does he have any of the other tattoos?”

Leo takes his phone back, “There’s really blurry pictures of others but look,” He showed you another picture of the tattoos on his bicep and rib cage, “Don’t you have these too?” He gestured to the tattoo on your inner bicep that was slightly showing from under the sleeve of your shirt.

“No way.” You whisper in slight disbelief, “It could be a coincidence.” You shake your head. Leo raises an eyebrow at you before turning his phone back to himself.

“It would be a coincidence if he didn’t have this one.” He turns the phone back to you and you could feel your entire being jump when you see a picture of Mark posing in his swimming trunks and a tattoo, no, your paper plane tattoo on his collarbone.

“Where is this picture from?” You asked as you once again snatch his phone from his hands to get a better look.

“One of their backup dancers is my brother. Sometimes they get drunk and swim in the pool and it just so happened that Mark got a new tattoo around the same time that you did.” He smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest, “I think we just found your soulmate.”

“I still don’t believe it.” You bit your lip.

“(Y/n), seriously?” He huffed out, “He has all your tattoos and that paper plane tattoo is exactly the same as yours.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “When Haneul gets back, I’m going to convince her to take you to their concert here in Seoul.”

“I don’t know, Leo oppa. It doesn’t make sense. If they’re from Korea, then why do my tattoos always pop up while I’m sleeping?” You question, still stuck on the belief that Mark wasn’t your soulmate.

“Think outside the box, (Y/n). Maybe he got them while he was on tour or while he was drunk or having an existential crisis in the middle of the night.” He squinted his eyes at you, “I’m getting you into the concert no matter what.” He gave you a cheeky smile and took his phone from your hands, dialing a number.

“What are you doing?” You asked when he pressed his phone to his ear and began talking.

“Hyung, when’s the next concert in Seoul?” His question made your eyes widen and you quickly jumped onto his back to try and grab his phone out of his hands.

“Kang Leo!” You yell as you tried to pull the phone away from him.

“I think I found Mark-ssi’s soulmate.” He spoke through the aggression you were putting him under, desperately trying to keep both of you standing and swatting your hands away. “Yeah, same tattoos and everything. Even the paper plane. They’re back next week?” You froze. He glanced over his shoulder and smirked when you did, “Alright, thanks. Three would work.” He hung up the phone and you were still hanging on his back frozen. You slid off of his back and glared at him,

“What if he’s not my soulmate and I just end up embarrassing myself?” You poke at his chest. He raised his hand and flicked your forehead, causing you to yelp and move away from him.

“That’s for speaking so disrespectfully to me.” He smiled at you, “And if he’s not, then we’ll find out. If he is and you don’t go, you’ll be throwing away an opportunity.”

“Why do you know literally everyone?” You groaned as you crouched onto the floor with your hands covering your face.

“I’m a social butterfly.” He shrugged. “You owe me now!” He cheered. You moved your hands from your face and glared at him just as the sound of beeping came from the keypad to the front door.

Haneul walked into the apartment and froze in her spot when she saw you crouched on the ground and her soulmate standing across from you with a wide smile on his face.

“Okay, what happened?” She questioned as she slipped off her heels.

“I think I found (Y/n)’s soulmate and he’s an idol!” Leo announced with his hands in the air.

“Really?” She looked between you and him. You covered your face with your hands once again and nodded. “What did you do?” She moved over to him when she realised Leo must’ve done something about it.

“My brother is a backup dancer for Got7 and he got us three backstage passes for the concert next week in Seoul.” He unlocked his phone and showed her the picture of Mark’s tattoos.

“Holy shit, (Y/n)’s gonna date an idol.” Haneul chuckled. You look up at her and pout,

“Eonnie, what if it’s not him?” You whine out at her.

“Oh come on, it’s worth a try.” She waved her hand at you. “If we don’t go at all, we’ll never know.” She tugged on your arm so that you would stand up. “Now, you have a week to prepare. Put yourself together and let’s get two souls together!” She clapped excitedly.

Haneul and Leo really spent the whole week just getting you ready. Leo even bought the fan lights because he felt like being at a concert without one would be boring.

“I’m supporting my brother.” Leo shrugged when he insisted on buying the fan light.

“The fan light is for the group, not your brother.” You pointed out.

“Sssh,” He hushed you, “By supporting the group, I’m indirectly supporting my brother.” He said as he pulled the boxes off of the shelf.

Haneul on the other hand was learning fanchants.

“If we don’t learn them, it’ll be embarrassing. We’re listening to GOT7 almost everyday and we’ve never thought about learning any of the fanchants for fun.” She pointed out when you walked in on her playing one of their comebacks on the TV. You actually ended up joining her after half an hour of her playing Fly over and over again.

You found yourself staring at the ceiling the night before the concert. You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. Whether it was excitement from anticipating the concert or the possibility of meeting your soulmate, it wasn’t letting you sleep.

Mark instead was spending his time in the dorms, completely unaware of the person he was going to meet the next day. Leo’s brother had told everyone about it except for Mark, even their managers and the crew.

“He’s sulking while playing Fortnite.” Jackson sighed as he closed the bedroom door to Jinyoung’s room.

“If he knew what was going to happen tomorrow, I don’t think he’d sleep.” Jinyoung replied as he turned away from the keyboard sitting on his desk. Jackson sat himself on the edge of his bed,

“He asked me a while ago about how I felt when I met my soulmate.” He muttered out, obviously concerned for Mark.

“He asked me that, too. I don’t really blame him. We met our soulmates years ago. He’s the last of us and he hasn’t even come close to feeling like he’s going to meet his.” He pursed his lips as he turned back to the keyboard, starting to aimlessly play a melody.

“Do you think she’s the one?” Jackson asked after a moment of listening to Jinyoung play. His question made his friend stop to think.

“Anything could happen, Jackson. They said she has the tattoos. Let’s just hope it’s her.” He nodded slowly.

“I hate seeing him sad. It makes me sad.” He pouted.

“You sound like his boyfriend.” Jinyoung joked as he started playing once again. “Don’t worry too much about it. You might accidentally tell him.” He chuckled.

“I promise I won’t tell him. I’m just worried, I guess.” Jackson shrugged.

“It’s okay to be worried. He is our brother after all.” Jinyoung nodded at him, “Now, instead of being here, go give him your company. He might be feeling lonely.”

»»————-　　————-««

“You ready?” Haneul asked as she poked her head into your room. You were looking at the full body mirror and trying on outfits. “Are you having trouble?” She asked when you didn’t answer, your full attention of trying to find the right outfit. You turned to her with a sigh. She pursed her lips before rummaging through your closet,

“I’ve tried everything. Nothing looks nice.” You groan as you plop yourself onto your bed.

“You’re just nervous.” She pulled out a simple neon green crop top and white shorts, “Try this. Their whole colour is green anyway.” She handed you the outfit. You sat up and gave her a skeptical look but decided to put it on anyway. To your surprise, it was perfect.

You left the apartment shortly after Leo arrived with all three of the fanlights in his hand,

“My brother said he handed the passes to one of the guards.” Leo spoke as the three of you made your way down the apartment building, “We just have to show them our ID when we get there so they can confirm it’s us.”

“You brought your purse, right?” Haneul questioned you. You nodded and pulled your purse out of your clear bag, making a double check to make sure you had everything you needed.

“All’s here.” You nodded to the two of them.

“Do you want to watch the show first or do you want to meet Mark first?” Leo asked as the three of you got into his car.

“Let’s watch the show first. I don’t want him to feel disappointed while he’s performing.” You mutter out as you lean back in the leather seat.

“Stop thinking that way, (Y/n).” Haneul turned around from the passenger seat to squint at you, “If we don’t go, we’ll never know. Even if he isn’t your soulmate, it’s still worth a shot.” She scolded you. You let out a sigh and nod,

“Sorry, it just seems really unlikely to me.” You mumbled, looking out of the window to the buildings passing.

“Why so?” Leo asked as he glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

“He’s an idol. He’s like… famous. What if he turns me down even if we are soulmates because I’m just normal?” You let out another sigh, sinking further into the seat.

“That’s impossible.” She shook her head, “You’re his soulmate. I’m pretty sure he’d do anything for you. Right, Leo?” Haneul lightly nudged Leo’s shoulder.

“Yeah, totally.” He nodded, “My brother said that the other members’ soulmates aren’t idols. They’re with them even though they’re ‘normal’.” He raised one hand to air quote the word normal. “You’ll be fine, (Y/n).” He gave you a reassuring smile through the rearview mirror.

You let your head rest against the window for the rest of the ride. Both your roommate and your best friend were still trying their best to reassure you, but your heart was still filled with doubt. Anything could happen. Mark was an idol and you were not.

“Stop worrying about it and let’s have fun.” Haneul spoke as she guided your shoulders towards the venue. After you guys had arrived, you made the sudden decision to turn back but Haneul and Leo were having none of it.

“You worry too much, (Y/n).” Leo chuckled as he led you straight to the entrance. You watched the way IGOT7’s were excitedly waiting outside the venue with their banners and their lightsticks. “Give me your IDs.” He spoke when he stopped in front of one of the guards.

You could feel your stomach starting to fill with anxiety the longer you watched him talk to the guard. He turned around after a minute and handed you your pass, “Don’t lose it.” He chuckled.

“I’m glad we didn’t come any earlier.” You muttered out as you slipped the lanyard of the pass around your neck, “I think it would’ve given me more opportunity to run away.” You joked.

Haneul chuckled, “We didn’t need to come earlier because Leo’s brother got us VIP seats.” She glanced over at Leo who nodded.

“We get to watch the whole show from above in one of the balcony area thingies.” He said as he led you into the venue and up the stairs.

“Holy shit, we’ll see everything from here!” Haneul excitedly clapped her hands when she saw the view of the entire stage. You watched as the venue started to fill with people. The lights went off and you could feel the excitement of the concert buzz starting to replace your anxiety. You watched as the music started and the group came out onto the stage.

Mark stepped out onto the stage with a smile on his face from the sound of the crowd chanting.

“Ahgase, are you ready?” Jackson asked into the microphone, his voice coming out through the sound system and echoing throughout the venue. The crowd screamed louder.

The moment you saw Mark, you were entranced. The sound of his voice made your heart flutter. The way his body moved made your worries completely disappear. His smile melted your heart.

“Oh my god,” You whispered out in awe.

Mark’s eyes were constantly scanning the crowd in an attempt to remember as many of their fans as he could. Halfway through Page, his eyes met yours. The whole world slowed down around him and everything else sounded muffled. His lips parted in awe at the sight of you and you could only do the same. It felt as though a fire was ignited in your soul.

Mark did the only thing he felt was logical and lifted his arm up to show the tattoo on his inner bicep. You rolled up your sleeve and lifted your own arm. Despite the distance, he could still see the tattoo as clear as day.

“(Y/n)?” Leo turned to you when you saw your arm up but you didn’t respond to him. He followed your gaze and saw Mark staring directly at you. “Haneul!” He called over to his soulmate who was sitting beside him. When she turned to face him, he pointed at you and she realised that you had already locked eyes with Mark.

“(Y/n)!” Haneul reached over and waved her hand in front of your face, causing you to snap out of your trance.

“What?” You asked as you turned to her.

“Is he your soulmate?” She asked. You turn back to the stage and see Mark stealing glances in your direction as he moved over to the other side of the stage before nodding,

“I think so.”

»»————-　　————-««

“Take a deep breath, (Y/n).” Haneul rubbed your back gently, “If you really can’t do it, we can go.” She smiled softly at you. You turned to her and nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat.��

“Okay, we just need to follow this dude backstage.” Leo announced as he turned around from the crew member he was talking to. “You okay?” He questioned you, silently offering one last second to let yourself run away but you nodded.

“I-I can do this.” You took a deep breath and smiled at him.

“Okay, come on.” The crew member led you into the venue and through the back. You couldn’t help but rub your hands together anxiously the closer you got backstage. You looked around the venue to try and desperately find something that would calm you down when a hand wrapped around yours.

You turned to your side to see Haneul holding your hand in hers with a comforting smile on her face. Leo slung his arm around your shoulders,

“If anything happens, we’re here for you.” He smiled at you. You returned the smile, glad that at least you weren’t doing this alone because you were sure you would back out at the last minute. Which you were ready to do when you reached the curtain that hid the backstage.

The grip on your hand tightened as you pushed through the curtain to see Leo’s brother waiting behind the curtain. His tired expression immediately lit up at the sight of his younger brother,

“Leo!” He opened his arms and hugged him.

“Hyung, you did really well!” Leo congratulated him as he pulled away, “This is Haneul and (Y/n).” He moved aside so that his brother could see you both.

“I assume (Y/n)-ssi is the soulmate since you’ve mentioned Haneul-ssi a couple times before.” He smiled at you, “I’ll tell you now, Mark couldn’t stop talking about you right after the show finished.” He chuckled as he started walking, the three of you following him through the backstage area. “He kept talking about this girl who had his tattoos and how his entire world stopped moving the moment he saw her.”

Haneul nudged your shoulder teasingly when she saw your cheeks starting to heat up.

“(Y/n)’s nervous that he’ll turn her down because she’s not an idol.” She told Leo’s brother. You slapped her arm and she stuck her tongue out at you in response.

“Really?” He turned around to glance at you. When you nodded shyly he let out a soft chuckle, “There’s no way that’ll happen. He’s sad a lot of the time because he’s the only one who hasn’t found his soulmate. All the other members found theirs years ago.” He stopped walking when he reached the changing room and turned around to face you completely, “No worries about this at all, (Y/n)-ssi. He will most definitely want to be with you.” He reassured you.

He waited until you nodded and he knocked on the door. Your grip on Haneul’s hand turned into you practically hugging her arm as you felt yourself getting more and more nervous once again. She placed her other hand on top of yours to calm your nerves.

“God, if you weren’t here, I probably would’ve melted into the ground.” You muttered out to her and she laughs,

“I know you would, that’s why I’m here.” She teased, “Unfortunately, when the door opens and you have to see Mark, Leo and I are going to stay out here.” She muttered to you just as the door opened to reveal Youngjae. He looked between Leo’s brother and the three of you before nodding,

“Is it her?” He gestured to you. Leo’s brother nodded. “Okay, good, because Mark hyung is getting sad again.” He chuckled as he moved aside to let you into the room. You glanced behind you to see Haneul, Leo and his brother looking at you with their thumbs up as the door closed.

“Sad?” You questioned as you turned to Youngjae.

“He’s scared he’ll never see you again.” He let out another soft chuckle. The further you got into the room, the more members you saw. Yugyeom and BamBam were the next two who saw you, their eyes widening as they quickly left the room. “We’ll give you guys your privacy, but we’ll come back in like 20 minutes.” He said after Jinyoung and Jaebeom noticed your presence.

Once they had left the room, you caught sight of Mark sitting in the corner with his knees to his chest. If the room hadn’t been empty, you wouldn’t have heard his soft sobs. You froze in place, unsure of whether you should comfort him or not.

He glanced up at you and his bloodshot eyes widened when he saw you. “W-What are you doing here?” He asked as he scrambled to his feet and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand.

“My best friend saw a picture of your paper plane tattoo and his brother’s one of your backup dancers.” You explained softly as you took a step closer to him.

“Are you…” He trailed off as he took a step closer as well, “My soulmate?” He asked as he hesitantly extended his hand towards you.

“I think I am.” You whispered out as you took his hand. The electricity that ran through your hand was enough to let you know. Your entire body felt warm and felt as though the initial jolt was starting to ignite you from deep within. It was exactly the same feeling as when you had locked eyes with him for the first time.

Mark’s grip on your hand tightened and more tears leaked out of his eyes as he smiled,

“It’s you.” He let out a laugh through his tears, “You’re my soulmate.” He whispered as he leaned his face closer to yours.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you.” You couldn’t help the smile that was creeping onto your face as he leaned closer and pressed his chapped lips to yours. You could feel the explosion everyone was talking about. Your heart felt like it could burst from pure love just by the feeling of his lips on yours.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to tighten your grip around him.

“That’s enough.” Jackson giggled from the doorway, forcing the two of you apart to turn to him only to see all of them - including Haneul, Leo, his brother and all their crew members - watching the two of you. “We don’t need any messes in the changing rooms.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you.

“Shut up.” Mark grumbled at him through the smile before turning back to you. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to meet you.” He hummed out as he pressed his forehead against yours.

329 notes · View notes

nikkywrites · 3 years

Text

Heart Trade

Summary: She shouldn’t have given her heart away. Not again.

Throwback to when I did a caffeine challenge for the fun of it. This is still something I like and am proud of. It’s still exactly 2k and that still makes me happy.

No edits. Also, there’s no dialogue (which I didn’t consciously do), but it works. Gives it a sorta distant, cold feeling that gels well with the tone of the story. Dashed lines equals a jump between the two time periods. Warnings for mentions of cheating and mention of past death. Enjoy!!

*****

His heart is still beating when you decide you’ve spent enough time with his blood on your hands. His love for you seeps through the soft edges, leaking onto polished tile.

You, unfortunately, weren’t new to heart magic, to the sacred ritual of trusting another with everything. That time, you’d been burned.

Now, new heart in hand, you decide that you won’t be the one left broken this time.

——————

It all begins (ends) on a normal Tuesday. All the terrible, tragic things do. It had been a normal Wednesday night when your life first crashed around you, but that’s not a concern. Not now. Now, it’s a Tuesday evening and you’re waiting for him to come home. He’s late.

It’s 6:34 when you notice the blotch on his heart. Years ago, on another heart, in another life, you hadn’t known what that meant. You had ignored it, had continued to love your counterpart.

Now, you know better.

You won’t make that mistake twice.

He comes home six minutes after the clock ticks 9. He’s three hours late and a part of you is surprised – you hadn’t been expecting him at all. He smiles sheepishly at you, still sitting at the dinner table with the plates still out. Your eyes search instinctively for lies, scanning the lines next to his eyes and the dimple in his smile.

If you didn’t hold his heart, you wouldn’t know that anything was different.

But you do and you don’t want to inspire suspicion, so you stand from the hard-backed chair you’ve been worrying in and fret over him. You push his jacket over his shoulders, onto the floor and you kiss him, pretending not to notice the peach-colored smudge on the curve of his throat.

Part of you expects this kiss to be different, for you to be able to taste infidelity on his tongue or sense guilt in the purse of his lips, but there’s none. He’s kissing you and it feels like any other kiss he’s given you before.

That stings a little, heart clenching in his suit pocket on the floor. Perhaps that was another sign, that he keeps your heart in a place where it is easily forgotten and left. But that’s how it goes. You don’t notice the red flags and warnings until it’s too late. It’s idiotic how that works.

The two of you head to the bedroom, both of your hearts laying carelessly on the lower floor. You have to lie when he sees the single tear slip down your cheek and your heart, discarded, bristles as you realize that you’re even in the lies you’ve told.

For now.

The kind of lies he’s telling always outnumber any other.

——————

Finger tracing the rim of your ceramic mug, you curse him for being late. There’s a difference between him giving you time to prepare and time to change your mind. You won’t, but your conviction wavers.

Then he walks in, smooth-gaited and as confident as the day you met him. Now, you think there’s a reason for that. He sits in the chair opposite yours and smiles as he takes a sip of coffee that he obviously doesn’t taste – it’s black and he takes his with sugar and a dash of hazelnut creamer. It’s another pointless test, but a part of you still hopes he’ll notice the rings you’ve been making him jump through.

He doesn’t and you promptly tell that part of you to shut up. (You don’t want this to end like last time, do you?)

He’s bubbly and animated but sobers when he sees your posture. Straight backed, lips pressed firm, eyes serious. You’re not usually this tense.

With his eyes on you, you consider letting the façade linger a little longer, wait a few more weeks before you drop the bomb. But you see a falling leaf out the window and remember November.

No, it’s best to do it now.

——————

The next morning you are praying that he won’t notice the change in your heart, the drop in temperature, but you are also hoping that he will. If he notices, he cares, but your phone sits silent in your pocket and his heart, still sitting on the table, blackens a little more.

Today, he’s home on time and you deflate a little. He’s not lost, he’s planning ahead. He’s in this for the long haul.

So are you.

That night, after he’s passed out in your bed, you take his heart and can feel his love pouring out. You lock it in a drawer in the kitchen and swear you won’t unlock it until the end, until your hearts break and your side of the closet is empty.

You never were good at keeping promises you made to yourself.

——————

The two of you chat for a while about nothing - the weather, his raise, your hobbies. You think maybe he knows.

But the way his eyes widen as you place his heart on the table, you know he doesn’t. He hadn’t even realized that you’d left it sitting in a locked drawer for five months before that morning, like he didn’t realize you knew yours was in a drawer in his office and that the heart in his pocket wasn’t yours.

He never held your heart in his breast pocket. It’s stupid that he thinks you wouldn’t notice. You did. Maybe it’s because of experience, from the bubbly, waxen burns present on the heart you gave him, but you knew.

You know this just like you know last time was a mistake, this — this is too big to be an accident. This is a web of lies, both yours and his. Talking about nothing, your eyes linger on his soft hair and you wish it didn’t have to be this way, that love didn’t have to end in tragedy and shattered trust.

But you’ve heard the quotes. A person burned is the next to start a fire. The next to search for a fire to start.

Five months of lying and one year of love in, you hate that the fire you chose had to be him. But you’re bitter and you think having someone else burn will lessen the sting on you.

(It won’t.)

——————

You’ve been burned before, have felt the backlash of a Heart Trade gone wrong and you used to think that made you clever, but two weeks after the lying began, you’re still dancing with him, pretending nothing is wrong. The fire only made you dumb.

Last time, you didn’t know. You were oblivious and you were pardoned, but that only works once. This time, you know. You know, but you want what you didn’t get at first, you want the happily ever after you’re supposed to have. What if you can change it? What if you can undo what he did and bring him back?

It’s not unheard of for one to heal another’s heart, but it is very, very rare and very, very taxing on the soul.

Two days later you decide he’s not worth it. You want him to suffer. It’s wrong of you, hateful and bitter and cruel, but the last time you’d been forgiving, you paid a toll much worse.

A monster isn’t the worst thing you could be.

You’ve been called worse things.

——————

He’s stunned, when he sees the splotches his lies and cheating have left. His shock appears genuine. He’s naïve, like most. No one knows the marks left on a heart caused by love lost until they’ve lived through it. His naitivity isn’t the flaw here, your knowing is.

You spill the truth and watch the weight of it sink into his bones.

(Lies are heavy, but the truth can be worse.)

The weight ages him, lines deepening as he begins to get the gist of where this meeting is going. He’s wrong. You haven’t told him everything. He knows you know he’s been lying, but he doesn’t know that you know who it’s been with, that you can only find one person who wears the shade of lipstick you’d found smudged on his neck that first day.

He doesn’t know about November and he doesn’t know that you’re still burning, still alight with the betrayal and loss and grief.

You won’t tell him. November is a secret that dies in your grave. You lied then, too. You also bought the plot of graveyard you will be buried in, beside the old heart you’d left. You’re too emotional, too attached to what you’ve lost, too poetic in how you’ll die, but there’s a kind of romance in it. A Shakespearean tragedy known only to one.

You spill a little more, that you know the nature of his lies. You explain the way of the Heart Trade. He doesn’t notice the long pause between tellings. He confesses his lack of knowledge, that he thought you’d never know. You stonily inform him that you would have, even without his heart in your hand. You’ve been through this before, remember. The heart is simply a screaming, neon sign that you can’t ignore.

Smiling, you crack a joke or two (maybe three) about the flaws of a Heart Trade. You don’t tell him everything, keep some secrets to yourself. You don’t tell him that you were doomed from the start, that one can’t really commit to a Heart Trade if they’ve gone through one already. You can’t give your heart away twice. A part of yours — the old heart, unblemished and unburned, lays in a cherry coffin.

It’s not for the best, but you know it’s a lesson best learned from experience. He wouldn’t believe you anyway. He’d probably spout some nonsense about never loving you and that’s simply not true. The Trade wouldn’t have gone through if it was. You loved him too, at the start.

Wearily, unknowingly, he laughs along. You tell him you’re ending it here. You push his heart across the table and he sees the watercolor staining your fingers. That’s what happens when you break a deal, you explain. The other is left marked, tattooed in his failure to love only one.

Another unfair deal. You had done nothing, yet you’re the one that can never escape. Reddish-purple blotches and separate locked drawers will always haunt you and that’s okay. They can get in line. You have other demons, far bigger and scarier than neglected hearts, lies, and the shadow of a coffin engraved in your head.

You stand a little less smoothly than you’d like and make your way out. You leave the coffee you didn’t really touch and walk into the chilly autumn air.

The shocked stupor you’d left him in with the unspoken promise of never seeing him again is another demon you’ll never outrun. Your things are already packed and gone from the house you shared. Packing had hurt and so had your meeting, but not all endings are bittersweet. Some are just bitter.

The chill makes you tug your sleeves down a little, covering some of the red splotch that runs down your wrists. You’d lied to him, sort of. The mark is as much on you as it is him. It appeared when you let him stray, when you let it bleed on your hands because damn you if you didn’t still love him.

But as you walk away from the crowded coffee shop where you broke your lover’s heart and left him reeling, you swear that you’ll never give your heart away again. You’ve lost twice. You won’t risk a third. (But things always come in threes, so maybe you will.)

This time, you swear you’ll keep your word. But a locked drawer is easy to unlock and holding his heart had made you feel better, like you weren’t about to lose him, like you hadn’t already lost him.

He’s lucky, at least. You’d given him back his heart.

You never had that luxury.

*****

Yay! So relieving having something that I didn’t need to edit at all. Still love the sadness of this.

#writeblr #writblr #writing #creative writing #heartbreak #caffeine challenge #sorta #nikkywritesstories #my writing #love #breakup #heart trade #no rambling in the tags this time haha #just imagine your own backstory i guess since i glossed over it #and probably wont come back #repost from my old blog

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years

Text

Gift Fic!!

A very happy birthday to my dear @vkelleyart !! A little something to brighten your day and hopefully make you laugh!

I’ve Been Everywhere

Shepard

I don’t think I would have given them a second look if it wasn’t for the wings.

You see a lot of unusual cosplay at Ren Faires. You see a lot of cleavage too, but I’m not going to complain about that.

Some of the cosplay is amateur, homemade, but still in the mood of the whole thing, you know? And some of it is expert level, seriously slick.

Those wings were something else. Those wings were magic.

It’s hard to spot Speakers. They blend in, glamour the obvious, layer on the mundanity, making it nearly impossible to catch even a glimmer of the magic they hold. They go out of their way to do it, to mask the magic.

Not these three. At least not in the usual way.

Granted they looked pretty run-of-the-mill at first sight—a chubby, Middle-eastern looking girl in something like anime cosplay, what with that school uniform look. The tall, dark-haired guy with the Anne Rice, modern vamp vibe. My eyes almost slid over the stocky dude with them–he was just so ordinary looking .

Until those wings popped.

Maybe that should have been my clue. The ordinary. But it didn’t feel like the way Speakers usually mask it.

Because once I took a good look at them, they were practically leaking magic everywhere. Like they failed a Subtlety of Magic class or something. Do they have classes for Speakers? Like schools where they learn to control the magic and filter it, to hide it in plain sight?

I wonder. I’ve never heard about anything like that on the message boards.

These guys would obviously be dropouts, if they actually do have schools like that. They could use a semester of Remedial Magical Skills 101 or whatever they’d call it.

Those wings got my attention. They looked so real, even from a distance. Fluid. Not like the mechanical stuff I’ve seen before. And there was that weird thrum in the air when they popped out.

I mean, I’m not saying I can sense Speakers or anything, but there’s definitely been a change since the whole demon incident. Like I crossed a threshold or something, with magical beings? Like a veil was lifted, maybe.

I can spot them a lot better. Most of the time.

These three though. They didn’t look like much at first glance but they may as well have had SPEAKERS tattooed on their foreheads, the way they were acting. As if I could stay away from that.

I don’t know what was up with all that nonsense they were doing at the Faire. Wands out in the open. Magical words flying. Poorly, at that.

They really must be dropouts or complete dumb-asses or have gone rogue or something. No magicians would ever risk being so blatantly obvious with their magic.

I mean, I’ve followed other Speakers before and I’ve never seen a hint of a wand or heard a whisper of a spell cast out loud. I’ve read up on it—on the web, on the message boards, heard from other people who were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the magic workers doing their thing.

I’ve managed a few words with one or two myself.

But they’re evasive, secretive. They don’t talk about magic, they don’t even admit they’re magic. And they most certainly don’t go around sprouting functional dragon wings, decapitating fellow vampires with funky spells and using wands in public.

I’d be surprised if these three aren’t on some delinquent wanted list.

I trailed them when they left the Faire. For a whole mess of reasons.

They’re intriguing, for one. I’ve always wanted to know more about Speakers. These guys, they’re so out of control, so careless with it. I thought maybe this was finally my chance. My chance to get in with Speakers, find out what I can about them. Research, you know?

They’re nothing like the ones I’ve read about, the ones I’ve sweet-talked into spending a bit of time with me.

A witch-girl who decapitates first, asks questions later.

Berserker fly-boy.

And then that magical vampire. That’s a new one. A vampire with a wand. Who kills other vampires. I’d have said they were some sort of elite, covert, vampire infiltration squad, what with the decapitation and dusting they unleashed a few hours ago on the local Dracula crowd.

If they weren’t so completely inept at the covert part of that equation.

Maybe they’ve got something to do with the Next Blood.

Not that I got a chance to ask. They bugged out of there before I could get close enough to start chatting, introduce myself, get a conversation going.

They probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day, being magicians. Even though I helped that homely Edward Cullen wannabe with his spell. He’d have been dusted if I hadn’t.

I get why he chose to stick with the vampire cosplay. I mean, I can see it. Camouflage yourself in plain sight. It makes sense. Puts people off your trail.

He’s pale. And he’s got a widow’s peak.

But still. The circles under his eyes kind of detract from the look. And that crooked nose. It’s kind of the first thing you notice—it really takes over his face, like he’s all nose. Overly groomed eyebrows, far too heavy with the foundation, and then that honker. Yeah. He’s no Edward Cullen, that’s for sure.

I can’t believe they’re driving right into a Quiet Zone. You’d think they’d know what a bad idea that is. But then again, these three seem mighty clueless for magicians. Or vampires. Or harpy hybrids. Whatever they are.

It was quick thinking by Edward (I’m just going to call him Edward, it’s easier) to act like it was all a show. That might work for run-of-the-mill Normals. But anyone like me—or a demon in disguise, any Maybe really–wouldn’t be fooled.

Not with them spilling magic like that. I’ve never seen anything like it. Spells, magic fire, the dude bro guy literally flying. (I’m going to call him Kevin, it’s easier.)

It was unreal.

I flash the brights. I don’t know how to get these idiots to pull over. If they’re driving right at it, they’ve got no clue what trouble they’re getting themselves into.

I flash the brights again. The Mustang just speeds up.

Mustangs aren’t made for late night drag races on gravel. I try to stay close behind. They come back onto the main road just before the Henge.

Well, that’s it. Just crossed into the Quiet Zone.

I speed up.

The Mustang practically does a donut as it turns into the parking lot. No idea how to drive either. They need more than some friendly advice–they need a handler. Like a chaperone or something.

I pull up in front of them. Cut the engine and the lights. Get out.

“Hi.”

They don’t trust me but at least they let me get them out of that mess with Jeff Arnold. Never a good idea to cross Jeff or any of his posse.

And I was right about this crew. They are careless. The girl–Penny–she just magicked her way in here, into this hotel room, without a care in the world. Then she cast half a dozen spells on the other two. Simon and Baz. (I’ll have to stop calling them Kevin and Edward in my head.)

Spell after spell, to try to get the skunk funk off. It’s not as bad as it was, I’ll say that. Not as good as it would have been if we’d had tomato soup, but I doubt there’s a spell for bringing bathtubs of soup into existence.

She just cast them all in front of me, like I didn’t even exist. I expect they’re going to try something on me. I wouldn’t put it past them. They’re not masking their distrust, I can tell you that. Not the first time I’ve dealt with that and I’m sure not the last. I’m used to it by now.

These three don’t seem to be following any set playbook, just reacting to situations as they come up. I suppose you could call it resourceful and bold, but that doesn’t fly with the local Maybes or the resident Speakers.

Not the way it’s supposed to be done. There’ll be a reckoning if they don’t watch out.

That’s where I come in, if I can smooth talk them well enough to get past their defenses. Penny’s fierce, I’ll give her that. Put a proverbial knife to my throat while I was driving the getaway car. I don’t know if that’s sheer bravado or stupid desperation. Probably both.

I should be able to bring her around. If she ever lets me get to talking, that is.

They all look like hell. Grubby, exhausted, the faint aroma of skunk still clinging to them.

I’m right about Baz though. He’s a vampire, no question. Took a chestful of shotgun pellets and lived to tell. I don’t know if lived is necessarily the right word.

Survived might be more accurate. I know people call them the undead but I didn’t really believe it until I got up close and personal with this guy. Scrawnier than the Twilight vamps and a lot less sparkly, for one. Almost as fast though, when he was running alongside the truck.

But there’s a weird innocence to him. I don’t know if that’s the right word.

I mean, he’s fierce too. Cold as ice, grimly menacing. Certainly not afraid to play with fire, which seems a bit risky to me, considering.

No qualms about incinerating his own kind, that’s for sure.

I’ve seen vampires before, from a distance. Like the ones at the Faire. They’re pale and arrogant, powerful and vicious.

None of them ever looked quite this lost.

He and Penny collapsed on the bed by the window almost as soon as we got in the room. I hadn’t pegged them as a pair, but it works, I guess, if you squint.

Opposites attract, so they say.

And they are opposites, at least in looks. He’s tall and lanky, pale as the moon, all sharp edges. She’s short and round, warm brown skin, warm brown eyes. At least they’re warm when she’s looking at the two of them. They’re blazing and accusatory when they’re on me, that’s for sure.

Still, they’re nice eyes.

Edward’s—I mean Baz’s—nose is even more noticeable up close. It’s like they fitted him with the wrong size? Like it was made for a much larger person. Someone with a broader face. And it’s too high, like it needs to be shoved down a half inch. That’d probably make the proportions even worse, what with that wide mouth of his.

Was his mouth always that way, I wonder? Or did it get bigger because of the fangs?

I have so many questions.

Doesn’t look like I’m getting any answers tonight. Penny and Baz fall asleep in minutes, not even bothering to get under the covers.

So it’s just me and Winged Victory over here. He’s got his back to the door, like some threatening sphinx guarding the exit.

The sphinx I ran into last March was far more attractive.

I can’t tell if Simon’s got freckles in his acne scars or scars on his freckles. In any event he’s got literal craters on his face. And so many freckles. Big ones, small ones, clusters of them.

It’s like some pint-sized Jackson Pollock shook a paint-laden brush at him. Repeatedly.

I don’t know what to make of him. He was like some Biblical avenging angel, wielding cosplay swords like they were the real thing this afternoon. Staking vampires like it’s his literal job.

I don’t know. Maybe it is.

Simon’s got a scar that runs down across his left eyebrow. Splits it in two, with a little bare patch in the middle. His arms are crossed over his chest at the moment. He’s got scars all over them too--wide, silvery scars. Thin pale ones. Puckered gouges that look like they were left by claws.

He’s glaring at me, but I’m used to that from Maybes. At least until they get to know me.

I just smile back.

read it at ao3

#carry on #wayward son #shepard #baz pitch #simon snow #penelope bunce #happy birthday venessa #idea from rainbows tweet about simon describing Baz and attraction being SUBJECTIVE #shepard from omaha #my writing #my fic #crack fic

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