#all it took was one slightly odd 50 year old man to change that about me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I’m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

#troquantary #norwegian things #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #evighetens kyss #evighetens kyss meta #evighetens kyss renessanse

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

Text

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 3

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 2

Next →Part 4

Never before had you dreaded something more than you dreaded arriving for work the morning following your incident with Keishin. More than anything, you hoped he was thoroughly pissed at you and had left for work early that day so that the two of you wouldn’t have to see each other, but much to your displeasure and horror, when you stepped into the store that morning, he was sitting at the front counter, waiting for you.

How was he not pissed at you after what you had said to him?

When the sound of the front doors sliding open filled the otherwise silent building, leaving the keys in your hand useless as Keishin had already unlocked the store, you gripped the keys tightly and swallowed hard when he looked up at you. He didn’t say anything at first, maybe because he was waiting to see if you would make the first move, but after last night you were done making first moves when it came to him.

Averting his gaze and dropping your head low, you shoved the keys back into your pocket and headed for the back room to put your stuff away and get this day over with.

Just as you were about to open the door to the back room, Keishin cleared his throat and you stopped in your tracks, head turning to look at him without thinking about it.

“Good morning, Y/N.” This was the very first time he had greeted you first, and on top of that, the very first time he had ever used your name.

You weren’t sure how to respond, confusion and excitement mixing in your body to create an overwhelming concoction. “Good morning,” you mumbled in response before disappearing into the back before he could do anything else out of the ordinary, like God forbid initiate a conversation or something.

You took your sweet time getting ready, delaying heading out to the front of the store as long as possible to give Keishin ample time to leave. After about fifteen minutes or so, you emerged only to find him sitting right where he had been before, newspaper sprawled on the counter and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Shouldn’t you have left by now?” The questioned slipped past your lips before you even had the chance to filter it through your head.

Eyes wide, Keishin was surprised that you had spoken to him almost as much as you were. “We’re expecting a big delivery today, so I’m sticking around,” he answered. “You’ve never handled one by yourself so my mom asked me to show you how it’s done.”

Your heart sank, your stomach twisted, your knees felt weak. So he was going to be here with you all day long? “Perfect,” you groaned, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in your tone. “That’s just awesome. Great.”

“Listen, it’s not my idea of an ideal day either, but it is what it is,” he said. “So why don’t we just put last night behind us, chalk it up to exhaustion and the influence of alcohol on my part, and move forward?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, the fact that you couldn’t seem to figure him out thoroughly starting to irritate you. “How are you not angry at me?” you questioned him. “I was . . . horrible last night.”

You had spent the entire night after getting home thinking about the horrendous way you had behaved. The things you had done and said made you feel awful and you couldn’t understand how Keishin wasn’t on the brink of smacking the shit out of you right now.

“It’s fine.” He flashed a smile, trying his best to prove that he wasn’t dwelling on the past. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Looking around to double check that the two of you were the only ones in the store, you lowered your voice before speaking. “But I put my hands on you. You can really just forget that?” Heat swelled in your cheeks as you recalled the less horrible events that had taken place.

“I touched you too,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but yours was an accident.” You weren’t sure why you were saying all of this stuff; it was almost like you wanted him to be angry at you. Who knows, maybe you did. “I called you a burnout.”

Keishin let out a booming laugh at that. “Take a good long look at me, kid.” He smirked, gesturing to himself. “You really think I’ve never been called worse?”

“I don’t think that’s the point,” you breathed out.

Keishin opened his mouth to speak, but before he let a word out, he changed his mind and pressed his lips together. In the meantime, he watched you, the cogs in his head obviously working hard. “You’re an odd one, you know that?” He stood up, walked over to you, and set a hand on your shoulder. “I said it’s fine, so just forget about it, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, finally giving in.

“Good. Now, get to work, because this place isn’t going to run itself and I’m only here to help with the delivery, so until then, I’ll be napping on the couch in the back. Wake me up when the truck gets here.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Keishin gave you a pat on the head and disappeared into the back room without another word.

You stood in place for a moment, unsure if the fact that he had forgiven you so easily was a relief or not. You didn’t allow yourself to worry too long about that though, because, like Keishin had said, you had work to do and the store wasn’t going to run itself. And, if your memory served you correctly, you had some sweeping to do in the back corner.

For about two hours, you fell back into your normal workday routine, completely forgetting about the events of the previous night or the fact that Keishin was napping in the back. That was, until you saw the delivery truck pull up in front of the store and remembered you had been given the task of waking the sleeping man.

Heading into the back, you moved slowly and quietly even though it didn’t matter if you woke Keishin since that was what you were supposed to do anyway.

“Keishin,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. “The delivery truck is here.”

Of course, he didn’t even budge at that. Nervously, you stepped closer to the couch, unable to ignore the fact that Keishin looked completely different when he was asleep. The usual frown or cocky grin he sported was nowhere to be seen and he didn’t seem as intimidating when his eyes were closed and his breathing was so slow and rhythmic.

“Keishin.” You reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder like he had done to you earlier and shook him slightly. Still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you were unsure what to try next aside from shouting right in his face. If only he had warned you he was a heavy sleeper.

Deciding to try one last thing before you resorting to screeching, you leaned closer to his ear, planted your hand on his chest—a brief memory of how you had touched him last night flashing in your mind—and shook him once more while you spoke. “Keishin, the delivery truck is here,” you said, not whispering but also not being too loud.

Thankfully, the mixture of shaking him and speaking directly into his ear seemed to finally do the trick and his eyes shot open. Immediately, you jumped back, not wanting him to be weirded out by how close you were to him.

Eyes travelling up to meet yours, Keishin yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Truck’s here?” he clarified.

“Yeah, it just arrived,” you told him, waiting for him to get up. “You should have told me you were a heavy sleeper. I was about to scream or pour water over you or something.”

Keishin cringed at the thought of that. “Well, thank goodness you didn’t. Next time, just pinch my nose or tickle me or something . . . anything but water.”

“Next time?” you asked. “You plan on taking naps on the couch often?”

“It’s my favourite place to nap. You should try it sometime,” he said before heading for the door. “Come on, let’s get this delivery over with. Try to learn fast so I don’t have to teach you again.”

“I’ll try my best.”

As you had pretty much expected, the delivery had been pretty straight forward. After helping the delivery man unload all of the boxes into the storage room and signing off on the delivery, the most time-consuming and complex part of the process was taking an inventory of the new supplies, which you picked up on pretty quickly.

Keishin showed you how to mark down the new delivery on the clipboard kept in the storage room and where to input the total count for each item. From there, all you had to do was make sure you had received everything and had the correct number ordered.

“Pretty easy, right?” He glanced at you out the corner of his eye as the two of you worked together at counting the inventory, keeping an ear open for customers in the process.

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem hard. Just time consuming,” you agreed.

“Exactly. We usually get a big delivery like this about once a month, then smaller deliveries throughout the week for more perishable items, as you already know.”

You nodded, quickly becoming lost in the repetitive task of counting and writing down the amount on the clipboard. Weirdly enough, you found that you didn’t actually hate taking inventory; the simple task was actually kind of calming and passed the time effortlessly.

“50,” you muttered under your breath, jotting down the number in the correct box right after you finished counting. When you turned back to start on the next box, you caught Keishin looking in your direction. “What?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he responded, quickly elaborating when you shot him a confused look. “Well, more specifically, why you took this job.”

You shrugged as you continued working. “I already told you. I need the money.”

“Right, so you can move out on your own. But why?”

Your hands stopped grabbing items and your mind stopped counting, making you lose track. “Because I’ve been waiting for as long as I can remember to live my own life and now that I have the opportunity, I’m not going to pass it up.”

“But wouldn’t you much rather be going to school? Surely you don’t want to work in a place like this for the rest of your life.”

You sighed heavily. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“I’m just curious,” Keishin said. “I want to understand you better.”

“I don’t think you could truly understand unless you experienced the childhood that I did.”

Stopping his work as well, Keishin leaned against the shelf and crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

Rolling your eyes, you accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to give up. “First thing’s first, I’m not saying my childhood was tragic or anything. My parents didn’t beat me. They fed me and clothed me and everything a parent should.” You started, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “I was just never allowed to live my own life or make my own decisions. I ate what my parents wanted me to eat, I wore what they wanted me to wear. I took the classes they wanted me to, I was friends with who they thought would make a good friend. They went overboard on trying to get me to do what they thought was best for me. I was never old enough or mature enough to know what I really wanted. I lived in a controlling dictatorship.”

“What about soccer?” Keishin asked, proving that he had actually remembered the conversation the two of you had had on your first day at the store. “You told me you used to play.”

You smiled fondly at the thought of your high school soccer team. “That was the only thing I ever got to pick for myself . . . and it took months of convincing, and in the end, I was only allowed to continue because I was good at it. The fact that I genuinely enjoyed it never came into account for my parents.” Your smiled faded slightly. “Sometimes they even managed to drain the fun from that as well, but I refused to let them ruin it for me because it was the only thing I had that was mine.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Every day . . . but this is more important right now.”

Keishin was silent for a few moments while he processed everything you had said. “Sounds like everything needed to have a purpose.”

“Pretty much. If something had no chance of providing success in the future, it was a waste of time.”

“So the plan is to work so you can afford your own place, then go to school next year? How are you going to afford school?”

“Well, if I had followed my parents plan for me and started working toward a law degree, they would have paid for it. But since I’ve decided to do my own thing now, I’m just lucky they haven’t kicked me out of the house yet . . . so I guess I’ll have to get a scholarship or apply for student loans. I’ll basically be scraping by, so I’ve applied for a bunch of community colleges and I’ll go from there I guess.”

Fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, Keishin lit one before sticking it between his lips. “What do you want to do?”

You laughed slightly at that. “I have no idea. I was never allowed to have hobbies or interests, so I don’t even know what I like. I just know what I don’t like. If I could do anything though, I’d apply for the University of Tokyo. They have a great soccer program. I just want to play soccer again.”

Keishin smiled. “Just soccer?”

“For now, yeah. I’ve learned that I’ll have to take life step by step, so that’s the first major goal. I’ll probably take some first year classes and see what I like and go from there. I think it’s okay to not have a set-in-stone plan sometimes . . . after all, this is the first time in my life I’ve never had my future planned out for me. It’s kind of exciting . . . scary, too, but exciting.”

Keishin sighed contently as he watched your eyes light up when you talked about the things you wanted to do in the future. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

“So what was the point of what happened last night?” he inquired. “And, while we’re at it, the past few weeks as well. How do I fit into this grand plan of yours?”

You felt your heart pound against your chest. “I thought we were forgetting about last night?”

“We are,” he assured you. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just curious, is all.”

You thought for a moment, unsure how to phrase exactly how you were feeling. At first, you were inclined to take him up on his offer to not answer, but after how nice he had been to you today, you felt you owed him at least that.

“Originally, I was in a pretty messed-up head space and I wanted to use you to get back at my parents,” you told him truthfully, “. . . but after last night, I did some serious thinking and realized that wasn’t the case. What I really want is to prove to my parents that not everything that is different or ‘not according to plan’ is bad. You have an . . . alternative look about you,” you tried to phrase that as respectfully as possible, causing Keishin to chuckle, “but you’re not a bad person or, despite my harsh words last night, a burnout. You coach volleyball for high school kids and you help out at your family’s store and even though I’ve been pretty horrible to you, you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You paused, unsure if you should say the last part or not. “I don’t know, I just think that maybe if they met you, they might realize that I’m capable of making good choices for myself even if it doesn’t fit their predetermined mold of my life.”

“You think I’m a good choice?” he asked, taken aback by your honesty.

“Yeah.” You eyed him while he took a drag from his cigarette and let the smoke spill from his lips. “Maybe not the nicotine addiction part, but hey, no one’s perfect.”

Keishin chuckled before putting his smoke out. “Okay, I’ve got a deal for you.”

You cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“If I pretend to be your boyfriend and help you fix things with your parents, you have to apply to the University of Tokyo and follow your dream of playing soccer.”

You were thoroughly perplexed. “Both conditions of that deal only really benefit me. What do you get out of it?”

He just shrugged. “Nothing.”

You scoffed. “Well, as generous and sketchy as that sounds, there is no way I would be able to afford the University of Tokyo on my own and I don’t think any amount of ass-kissing could make my parents agree to pay for me to go there to play soccer and figure life out.”

“Hey, one step at a time, right?” He used your own words against you.

You contemplated his offer for a moment. “You’re really okay with that? Even though you get nothing but more work out of it?”

“I suggested it, didn’t I?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “You’d really pretend to be my boyfriend? Even though I’m just some rebellious kid?”

“Your opinion of me changed,” he pointed out. “Why can’t my opinion of you change too?”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “Well, if you’re absolutely positive you won’t regret it when you wake up tomorrow morning, I’ll happily accept your deal. Thank you.”

Keishin turned back to the stack of boxes and promptly returned to the task at hand. “You’re welcome.”

You watched him work and quietly hum to himself while he did so. This time, it was his turn to catch you staring. “What?” he looked over at you.

“I just didn’t peg you for such a softy is all,” you joked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffed at you. “Just don’t fall in love with me or anything, kid.”

You smirked. “Whatever you say, old man.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#ukai keishin #ukai keishin x reader #ukai #lostinthewiind #piss off your parents #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #song fic #part 3 #haikyuu smut #series

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grand-theft-grotto · 2 years

Text

Concept: Quackity (or tubbo, or someone, idk) builds a train station in order to get around the dsmp faster. Wilbur stays as far away from it as possible.

((A reupload of this post from a few months ago to include the rb/part 2))

(@painless-and-colourful’s addition)

oohhhhh

nooooooo

oh yes

Tommy begins the railway project as a legitimate way to improve the server - and well, wouldn’t more people go to the hotel if transit were better? They'd travel more, too. Everyone would end up being more interconnected.

When Will saw it, Tommy remembered what he had told him about limbo even before he stopped talking and watched it without reaction. Will’s eyes roved slowly over the grey concrete, skipping from one point to another, not bothering to trace and confirm each detail. He had memorized it so many times that a peripheral view of each section was enough.

He looked at the rail line. At the ground. The thoughts he left in those rails.

He must have had the strangest look on his face; nothing at all, like he'd only just seen it and couldn't react yet. A total nothing.

How could Tommy know exactly how it had looked?

Silence went on for another solid minute before Tommy said lamely, “Er. Sorry.”

Nothing from Wilbur.

“I.. I could take it down, if you'd like. Or- or change it. Make it look different."

Another half-minute or so. Wilbur couldn't follow any of the thoughts that threatened to exist about this. Bits of his decades plucking him in so many directions they pulled him nowhere at all.

Eventually, he did find “no, that’s alright, Tommy” in there, looking up, and several days later he presented Tommy with a speech both more formal and with more clumsy slips than any Tommy had heard from him before, about his desire not to hold Tommy back, not to inhibit progress on the SMP. His desire to be different from what was represented in that station.

By halfway through the speech, he had the same conviction he always did and Tommy was back to thinking he was being tricked.

Wilbur stayed out of the way as it was constructed, attempting to support Tommy from the sidelines. His missives about it were all by letter or passed on by proxy.

He tells himself that he'll take it at least once. It's a symbolic barrier he needs to get around - he needs to be able to ride in something beyond his control, to practice putting aside his neurotic solipsism. If he is ever to become a different person, he must hear the unoiled squeak of those rails without the spiral network of connotation he's built around himself.

Say, though, that it whisks him away?

Say that...

The periphery is too thick, holding those things back that are too filthy, too heavy with guilt.

Bringing his foot beyond the doorway is something he just never gets around to doing.

He walks, for now.

Progress steams by on the Dream SMP, and one day (a 50-odd-year-old man has to get his exercise somehow, besides), once that scenery stops commanding him as soon as it's in sight, he'll join it.

~~further angst: Post Script 1: The first thing Tommy did once the rails were in place was add barriers on the tube line.

Post Script 2, If you want slightly heavier angst:

Alternatively, Tommy, with the solidity that comes with a finished and admired project, hates that he loves the power he has over Wilbur with this. He hates that he loves that the dynamic has finally, FINALLY shifted, he loves that Wilbur just folds sometimes and goes quiet, that tongue so adept at whatever fucked-up processes were happening down there finally, after what took thirteen years, have found a way to be silenced

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dimitrescus-bitch · 3 years

Text

Old Friends and New Experiences (Maura Isles x Reader)

It’d been a long time since you’d been back in Boston. After graduating from college, you moved to England to attend law school at Oxford. It had been lonely, but Maura had flown out to visit you a couple of times. After your first year there though, the visits stopped and you found yourself adjusted to living on your own. Although, you weren’t really alone all that much. You’d become very successful after catching a couple of big cases and you were flown all around the world to represent a multitude of clients for a multitude of things. It didn’t matter what kind of court you were in, it was obvious you were meant to be a lawyer.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing at our crime scene?” There was a detective trying to stop you from coming and taking a look. You were surprised that your client had called you in as quickly as they had. You’d been in New York just a couple of hours ago and it looked like the police weren’t even finished with their initial sweep of the crime scene.

“At this point, babysitting to make sure you do your jobs properly. Where is your medical examiner, I wish to speak with them,” you said and the detective crossed her arms over her chest. “Neither of us want me to be here, so the sooner you let me speak with your medical examiner, the faster I can go back to my hotel, take a bath, and the less we have to see each other.”

“Fine-,” she turned around and then yelled out, “Maura!”

“Thank you,” you thanked the detective quietly. The detective nodded and you flipped your phone around in your hands as you waited. Once the medical examiner came into view, you dropped your phone on the ground, glad that its case prevented it from shattering or even cracking that badly. “Maura, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Y/n, you didn’t tell me that you were back in Boston,” Maura said as she stepped over the line. She tossed her gloves in the trash and linked her arm with yours as the two of you stepped away from the crime scene. “What are you doing in Boston?”

“Eugene Harrington called me to represent his son in this case. Do you think you could tell me what happened to the body?” you asked and Maura sighed. “I know, but the sooner I can clear this up, the better. I mean, come on, do you think Doug did this?”

“I don’t think he could have. His body’s been dead the longest in there,” Maura told you. “It looks like he was shot, along with his girlfriend. The other body will take more time and a better examination. So, it doesn’t look like you’ve got a client.”

“Give it time, I’m sure someone else will need me,” you told Maura. “We should go out sometime, just like old times.”

“I’d really like that. Good luck on your case, whatever it is now.” Maura kissed your cheek and then went back to her crime scene.

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

“So, who’s the lawyer?” Jane asked curiously. Maura was examining the third body, trying to determine a cause of death while Jane occasionally handed her a tool or something else.

“Y/n Y/l/n, an old friend from college,” Maura told Jane. “Are you jealous Jane?”

“Just an old friend?” Jane asked and Maura nodded. “Okay then, so we don’t have to worry about her being a kook or anything. She won’t try to kill one of us?”

“No, she won’t try to kill one of us. Y/n is perfectly normal and a brilliant lawyer. She wouldn’t ruin her career committing a murder,” Maura promised Jane. “She’s just in town for a couple of weeks until we wrap this up and it’s certain she won’t be needed at trial.”

“She’s not a prosecutor,” Jane pointed out. “Your friend would help get our murderer off on these charges?”

“It’s not like that. Y/n is a good person, defense attorneys aren’t the devil,” Maura reminded Jane. Jane sighed, feeling bad for upsetting Maura.

“I’m sorry Maura, obviously you know her a lot better than I do,” Jane apologized.

“Why don’t the three of us go for dinner?” Maura offered and Jane nodded. Maura finished up the examination of the body, gave Jane the cause of death, and then called you to arrange the dinner.

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

“Maura, this place is ridiculous,” you said as you looked around the restaurant. It was the fanciest one in Boston that she could have dragged either you or Jane into. Jane had yet to arrive, but Maura decided to show you to the table so you could wait inside. About 5 minutes after she left you at the table, she came back with a grumpy looking Jane by her side.

“Jane, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Jane,” Maura introduced the two of you. Both of you shook hands and then were handed menus.

“Maura, why couldn’t we have gone somewhere else? I know a place where you can get three steaks for the price of one and I know for a fact that they’re bigger than you get here,” you huffed and Maura put her and on your back. “Come on Maur, my grandparents are rolling in their graves right now at the money I’m throwing away here.”

“She’s got a point Maura,” Jane said as she looked over the menu. “There’s no reason for any of this to cost more than $100.”

“See, the two of you already have something in common, you’re cheap,” Maura teased and you rolled your eyes. At your slightly deeper than usual inhale, Maura put her hand up to stop you. “I’ve gotten the grandparents’ hardships in Ireland speech. I also saw your hotel room, which I’m sure that they’d disapprove of for being cushy as well.”

“This is college all over again,” you muttered as Maura smiled triumphantly.

“Oh, so you were a bit of a pain then too,” Jane joked. You smiled at her joke and the way that Maura elbowed Jane for the little jab. “Ow, watch it.”

“How about the two of you order something, actually eat it without complaining about the price, and then we can go to Dooley’s for drinks after,” Maura offered and you perked up at that. Jane looked confused, wondering where she benefited from this exchange. “If you can drink a pitcher of beer by yourself, you get free drinks for the night. Aside from the price of the pitcher.”

“I’ve never paid for more than a pitcher,” you said with a proud smirk. Maura rolled her eyes and the two of you ordered. You ended up giving the waiter your card before anybody even ordered, claiming that Maura could buy the pitchers at the bar. The three of you had an easy conversation going. Maura was pretty quiet, letting you and Jane talk about your lives and all the things Maura knew you already had in common. After dinner, you changed in your car and then walked down to the bar with them.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have taken a car,” Maura said as she shivered. You took off your jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging her closer as you did.

“We always walk to Dooley’s and we always walk back,” you told Maura. “Tradition.”

“Your hotel and my house are over two miles away from the bar,” Maura pointed out. You sighed and rolled your eyes at her. “I’m calling us cabs home when the time comes.”

“Always the worrier,” you tapped Maura’s nose and then ran ahead to the door when you saw it.

“You sure you’re just friends?” Jane asked Maura as she fell into step with her.

“Yes, I am,” Maura answered.

“You sure that’s all you want? I mean, she’s pretty affectionate and you like her. I can tell that you do, so I think you should go after her,” Jane advised and Maura brushed it off.

“Maura, come up here and pay the man,” you called out as your friends finally made it into the bar. Maura slid the bartender a $50 and told him to keep the change. Three pitchers were set at the bar and the three of you took your places. Your pitcher was downed first and Jane finished second. Maura didn’t bother finishing hers, drinking only about a quarter of it before taking it over to the table you and Jane had found. “Maura, let’s play pool.”

“I haven’t in a long time,” Maura tried, but you were already pulling her over to the table. You got everything all ready as Jane got her pool stick. “We have an odd number.”

“I’ll take you on my team, make it fair.” You winked and Maura blushed a little bit. You took the first shot, then it was Jane’s turn. When Maura’s turn came up, you stood behind her and adjusted her to make a good shot. You backed up and Maura took her shot. The ball went into the pocket and Maura turned around and wrapped her arms around your neck in a celebratory hug. You bit your lip as you looked up at her, your eyes flicking up and down between her eyes and lips. Maura took the plunge and leaned down to kiss you. Without her heels, the two of you were normally the same height, but now she was just a bit taller than you, not that you minded all that much.

“You want a drink?” Maura asked and you nodded. Jane went to get everybody something small and the three of you toasted.

“To old friends and new experiences.” You took the first sip of your drink and Maura squeezed her arm around your waist a little tighter. “I think I could stay in Boston for awhile.”

“All I’ll ask for now is that you stay in the country,” Maura told you.

“That I can do.” You leaned forward and kissed her. For years, you’d come to this bar with Maura in hopes that maybe something would happen, and finally, it did.

Taglist: @storiesofsvu @xixxiixx

#Maura Isles #maura isles x reader #maura isles imagine #maura isles imagines #rizzoli & isles #rizzoli & isles imagine #rizzoli & isles imagines #rizzoli & isles x reader

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wizardofrozz · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Westview!

Warnings: implied homophobia (!!), swearing (barely), mention of past trauma (WW2)

A/N: Thank you all for the support, I’m borderline giddy with excitement over how many people love this idea ❤❤ You’re all wonderful 😘

Taglist is open!

Chapter 2

Bucky POV

I hung my hat on the hook next to the door, slipping my shoes off and sliding my suit coat off, hanging it on the railing on my way to the couch. I dropped onto the cushion with a groan, loosening my tie and running a hand through my hair, trying to tame it. My heightened hearing picked up on the soft tune Steve was humming as he walked around in the room above me.

“Hey, Stevie!” I yelled, hearing his footsteps still.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve yelled back. I heard his footsteps move across the floor, down the hall, and stop at the top of the steps.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” I asked, running my hand over the soft fabric of the couch cushion. The wood creaked under his weight as he bounced down the steps; I jumped when Steve hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to me.

“What are you in the mood for?” Steve shot back, leaning his head back against the couch. “We could always go out,” Steve offered tentatively.

“Steve, it’s already hard enough to explain why we live together. Going out to dinner isn’t going to make it look any better.” I threw my head back, copying Steve and closing my eyes; having romantic feelings for a war buddy in the ’50s could get us hurt, but I still felt bad denying Steve. “You know what,” I started. I turned my head, finding Steve’s head already turned towards me, his sparkling eyes boring into me. I took a deep breath, an intense longing gripped at my heart the longer I stared at him; it became so intense I almost gasped, fighting away the tears burning at the back of my eyes. Then it was gone, like the feeling never existed. What the hell?

“What were you going to say, Buck?” Steve pushed, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Let’s go get dinner,” I sighed, smiling at Steve. A bright smile spread across Steve’s face, and my stomach flipped and my heart stuttering; Steve grabbed my hand that sat on the couch cushion between us, lacing our hands together. I shook my head, chuckling softly, and turned my head again, staring at the ceiling; I jumped slightly when I felt Steve’s lips against my cheek.

“Thanks for doing this, bear,” he whispered, kissing my cheek one more time. My head lolled to the side, our noses brushing when I leaned my forehead against his; our lips were almost touching when a loud knock made me jump, tumbling to the floor. Steve flew into a fit of laughter, grabbing his chest, gasping for air around his laughter; I glared at him, slowly getting to my feet, rubbing my now sore tailbone.

“Yeah, laugh at the old man,” I joked wryly.

“We’re almost the same age!” Steve corrected, still laughing. “Besides, we’re in great shape for somewhere over 100.” I shot Steve a pointed look as I checked that my shirt was still tucked in and not rumpled before reaching for the door.

“Agnes,” I greeted with a smile.

“James! How are you, dear?” Agnes greeted, leaning in to give me a half-hug, kissing my cheek.

“Hello Agnes,” Steve greeted, rounding the couch.

“Steve! I didn’t think you’d be home,” Agnes chuckled. “Actually, I’m surprised either of you are home; I thought you’d both be out with some lucky ladies.” Agnes wiggled her eyebrows at me over Steve’s shoulder as she gave him a half hug too. My stomach fell to my feet, panic flaring up, but I tried to keep my expression neutral, but thankfully, Steve stepped in before I made an ass of myself.

“Buck and I are still adjusting to civilian life,” Steve answered, his lips pulling into a tight line. Steve gestured for Agnes to take a seat; she perched on the edge of the cushion next to Steve, and I stood behind them.

“What do you mean?” Agnes asked, her eyes widening.

“Stevie and I were part of some of the last army troops brought home a few years ago. We are still getting assimilated,” I answered, patting Steve’s shoulder. Steve let out a shallow breath, giving me a tight smile before turning his attention back to Agnes.

“Oh goodness, I had no idea,” she gasped, covering her mouth.

“Most people don’t,” I said with a shrug. “Our friends know, but that’s why we came here. A new start sounded like a good idea,” I stated.

“Splitting bills took some of the stress off both of us,” Steve added, his lips pulling into a small smile.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said with a nod.

“Plus, waking up from nightmares and having someone to talk to that understands doesn’t hurt,” I added, trying to sound lighthearted, but Agnes’ frown only deepened.

“You poor boys, I can’t even imagine what you went through. If you ever need anything, please let me know,” Agnes stressed. Agnes rested a hand on Steve’s thigh and reached for the hand that I didn’t have resting on the couch. I took her outstretched hand, holding it gently while gripping the back of the sofa until my knuckles were white, my eyes glued to the hand on Steve’s thigh.

“We really appreciate it,” Steve said with a smile, engulfing her hand with his.

“I’ll make sure to mention it to the other ladies too. There was talk that you boys were” -Agnes lowered her voice- “together. I don’t want you boys walking around worrying about that when you two need to heal.” Agnes smiled brightly up at me, then turned her smile on Steve; I tried to keep the grip on her hand gentle. “I may even know some lovely young ladies for you boys,” she chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows again.

“That’s very sweet….” Steve trailed off, turning his head to the side, listening. At the last second, I realized Steve could hear the faint groaning of the wood in the couch under my hand. I was still too focused on Agnes’ grip on Steve to notice the wood splintered under my hand, sending me stumbling into the back of the couch.

“What was that? Are you okay, James?” Agnes asked, glancing between Steve and me.

“I think I found a weak spot on the couch,” I chuckled, trying to hide the panic.

“An army buddy that lives nearby gave us this couch. Who knows how old it is,” Steve laughed. “You okay, Buck?”

“I’m fine; the couch is another story,” I laughed dryly. I pulled my hand away from Agnes, assessing the damage to the couch and noting the minor scratches on my hand. Agnes sat up, bracing herself on Steve’s shoulder to look over him to see the bent and broken pieces of wood piercing through the fabric.

“Wow, it must have been sitting for some time,” she mumbled, dropping back into her spot.

“We’re terrible hosts; you stopped here for something. What brings you over, Agnes?” Steve smiled, waiting for Agnes to catch up to what he said. I silently thanked Steve for moving the conversation smoothly away from my anger; I don’t know what I’d do without his charming nature.

“I almost forgot,” Agnes giggled. “Do you two know the couple that moved in next door?”

“(Y/N) and Loki?” Steve asked; Agnes nodded.

“(Y/N) has been my closest friend, besides Steve, of course, for…eight years. She was a nurse in Europe when I was deployed in ‘43,” I answered, smiling fondly at the thought of my friend.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Agnes mumbled, looking down at her hands. “Well, I should get going. I promised Natasha I would drop off the recipe for Clint’s favorite cookies.”

“Uh, of course. It was very nice to see you, Agnes,” Steve stuttered, getting off the couch. Steve and I walked her to the door, sharing a confused look behind her back before she stepped onto the porch turning towards us again.

“Behave, boys,” she jested, waving as she walked off. Steve closed the door, and his brows pulled together as he turned to face me.

“That was…odd,” he mumbled.

“No kidding,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “I think she was hoping I said I didn’t like (Y/N) or something; Agnes likes drama.”

“I don’t get why it would matter?” Steve inquired, his brows pulling closer together.

“Enough,” I laughed, reaching up to gently massage between his eyebrows. “You’re going to give yourself a headache, dear.”

“I know.” Steve huffed out a laugh, resting his hand on my wrist, his thumb rubbing against my pulse as his eyes fell shut.

“Let’s go get dinner,” I proposed. I let my hand slide down to cup his cheek, rubbing across his cheekbone; Steve hummed, a smile settling on his face. I coaxed him closer, connecting our lips in a tender kiss; Steve sighed, relaxing into the kiss. “Come on, before we starve,” I laughed against his lips.

“Fiiiine,” Steve whined softly, dropping his hand. A laugh burst from my lips, but I couldn’t help but think Steve looked adorable, even pouting; I gently tapped his cheek, shaking my head. I stepped away, jogging towards the stairs to change. “I get to pick where we go!” Steve called as I pounded up the steps.

“If you insist, sweetheart!” I called back, a smile spreading across my face.

***

Thankfully, Steve decided he was in the mood for diner food for dinner so we could walk. By the time we rounded the corner of our street, my eyes were getting heavy, and Steve had to keep stifling yawns.

“We may be in good shape for 100-something, but we definitely have the attitudes of old men,” I laughed, knocking shoulders with Steve.

“Right,” he chuckled. Steve pulled a hand out of his pocket to cover another yawn, and I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out again. “Shut up, you look like you’re about to fall asleep walking,” Steve jested, bumping his hip into mine.

“You got that right,” I yawned, smiling. Steve shook his head but didn’t say anything else; the chirps of crickets filled the air as we got closer to our house, relaxing me. Steve unlocked the door, pushing it open, gesturing for me to go first; I kicked off my shoes, making a beeline for the kitchen. I grabbed two glasses, fighting off another yawn while I poured whiskey for us; I hip bumped the door from the kitchen open, extending a glass to Steve as I approached the couch.

“Thanks, bear,” Steve hummed, smiling softly. I lowered myself onto the couch, swallowing half the glass in one gulp, dropping my head back, and closed my eyes. “Buck?” Steve’s voice cut through the haze clouding my brain. I must have started to doze off based on how foggy my brain felt at the moment.

“Hm?” I hummed, not bothering to open my eyes.

“You’re going to hate yourself in the morning if you don’t go up to bed,” Steve warned, jostling my leg. My eyes fluttered open, Steve’s face coming into focus; I grunted, shifting to the edge of the couch, scratching at the stubble under my chin as I yawned. “Give me your cup.”

“Hold on,” I grunted. I threw back the rest of the whiskey, wincing at the burn; Steve snorted, taking the now empty glass. I pushed off the couch, trudging towards the steps, yawning yet again.

“Come on, old man,” Steve chuckled behind me.

“Shut up, punk,” I shot back, glaring over my shoulder as I climbed the steps.

“Make me, jerk,” Steve said, poking my side. I barked out a laugh, almost tripping on the last steps as I tried to jump away.

“I’ll throw you back down the steps,” I warned, holding my hands out to keep him away.

“I’ll live,” Steve mumbled with a shrug, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I backed away, pumping into the doorframe of the bedroom.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” I warned, glaring at him.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he responded. “I can use your full name too.” Steve stalked closer, crouching down as he backed me into the wall between our beds. I was trapped, and Steve knew it, and he pounced; using his body to pin me in place, Steve grabbed at my ribs, and I couldn’t fight the laughter that burst from my lips.

“Steve!” I yelled, trying to push him away. “Please!”

“Apologize for saying you’d throw me down the steps,” Steve insisted, refusing to let up on tickling me.

“I’m sorry!” I screamed around laughter.

“What was that?” Steve chuckled.

“Steve! I’m sorry!” I begged between pained laughs, tears pricking at my eyes. Finally, Steve gave me a break, laughing at my pain; I dropped my head onto Steve’s shoulder, trying to catch my breath again. “You’re terrible,” I panted.

“Mm, you love me,” Steve replied.

“Debatable,” I argued, relaxing into Steve, who was still pressed against me.

“I’m tired now,” Steve sighed, resting his head against mine.

“You’re tired! I’m exhausted now,” I barked. Steve laughed again, pressing a soft kiss against the side of my neck, sending a chill down my spine.

“Get changed,” Steve directed, freeing me from the wall; I grunted in acknowledgment. I dropped face down into bed once I changed into my pajamas, moaning in the fabric at the softness against my tense muscles. “Goodnight, bear,” Steve mumbled.

“Night, Stevie,” I said into my sheets, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.

Chapter 3 | Series Masterlist

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@marvelfansworld @imagine-yourself-happy @alluringshawn @lovelokiqueen @somegeekychic @neenieweenie

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Goof Week: Sports Goofy in SoccerMania: GoofTales Woo-oo! (Paid For for WeirdKev27)

Gorsh all you happy people and welcome back to Goof Week, my Weeklong Celebration of everyone’s favorite goofus.

And today we have a special treat, something nice and obscure but something that still has a vital place in Disney History. Welcome folks to Sports Goof in Soccermania!

So yesterday in my Goof Troop review I wished there had been another DuckTales episode with Goofy, you know maybe find out what happened to Peg, see Max and Roxanne again that sort of thing. Whelp SOMEONE must’ve hid a Monkey’s Paw around here somewhere because I got this special instead on comision. This is a VERY intresting little artifact as it came out only 4 months before DuckTales, was produced around the same time, and was written by Tad Stones, who would both go on to work on DuckTales and even more importantly create Darkwing Duck.

Not only that but it has some odd things attached to it: it’s the first major production starting Scrooge, as he had an educational short about him, the first animated appearance of the Beagle Boys and most important the FIRST time Russi Taylor would voice Huey, Dewey and Louie, something she’d do till her passing a few years ago. At the time of this article she has not been recast, though I personally vote for Cristina Valenzuela, who took over the role of Young Donald and frankly does such a good job with that voice I didn’t know if Russi had already recorded lines for Season 3 before her passing.

So what IS Sports Goofy in Soccermania you ask? It was a TV Special from 1987, again four months before DuckTales, that was later sold on VHS. My guess is Disney intended for this to become a regular thing like the Charlie Brown or Garfield specials, but my honest guess is with DuckTales MASSIVE success they wanted to put all the TV Animation resources into making more shows to go with it. The fact the special is essentailly a Scrooge story with Goofy in it and Scrooge and the Boys were now tied up in DuckTales probably helped the decision. So we only got one of these and i’m proud to share it for Goof Week. So join me under the cut to see what a Sports Goof is, what Scrooge sounds like without Alan Young or David Tennant andto see me refrence the film UHF because I likes it.

So we open with the titles which are neat and then open at the Money bin, we even get a great sign gag that looks like something Carl Barks would write.

So Scrooge greets his nephews the way he greets everybody.. with a canon to the face... though he backs of firing once he realizes it’s them. The boys ALL wear red this special so .. I guess Huey won and now rules all three bodies with an iron fist? So the Huey Hive Mind asks Scrooge for a donation, a standard Scrooge setup, ask the rich asshole for money, as their trying to help the local soccer program and they need a buck fiddy for a trophy.

Scrooge’s voice here.. is terrible. I do not like to bash voice actors, they are hard working talented people who do a lot of great stuff, often for less pay than they deserve, and this blog ALWAYS makes that painfully clear. And Will Ryan is not without talent: While he hasn’t done much i’m familiar with he did play Petrie in Land Before Time and was great in it. So while I don’t dislike him as a person.. he did an utterly DREADFUL Scrooge. He dosen’t really attempt to do a scottish accent despite the character still saying cannae at one point, and as for what accent he is going for...

His Scrooge just sounds like someone trying to do a “foreign” accent and failing. It just sounds weird and makes every bit of his dialouge aside from one a chore to sit through. And the dialouge isn’t bad dialouge, it’s a well written and animated Scrooge even with the lower budget than Ducktales, but the voice just ruins it for me. Even without Young and Tennant to compare it to this just blows and the fact it’s paired up with the iconic Russi Taylor voice for the triplets.

This being Scrooge he instead fishes a Trophy out of the bin that’s all banged up and dinky and shoos them out. So in natural Barksian fashion the trophy turns out to be worth a million dollars. So we get some reaction shots.. INCLUDING GRANDMA DUCK!

For DuckTales fans joining us who have ZERO idea who that is, since she sadly did not make it into the reboot and Frank did have ideas, Grandma Duck is Donald, Della and Gladstone’s grandma. She’s a sweet old country woman who lives on a farm and is in fact the one who sold him Kilmotor HIll, with her husband renaming it from Killmule hill. I like her a lot since she reminds me of my own grandma and like her she still works when she can. Donald’s cousin Gus loafs around and eats as her farmhand. As you can tell I like her a lot, agani because she reminds me of one of my grandmas so this was nice even if she was only around for 20 seconds of screentime.

This ends up in the paper and sends Scrooge through the roof, literally when he finds out.

Two notes before we move on: The bin has a unique really cool design , though I get why other productions haven’t used it: besides this one’s obscurity while cool it just looks a bit TOO nice for Scrooge. Even in 2017 while still damn cool looking it still looks practicle. This .. is not that.

This looks like MC Hammer built this. It still looks awesome bu tit’s just not Scrooge sadly.

The other is that his Butler is named Jeeves here, but looks almost exactly like Duckworth. Just feels weird is all.

Naturally the Beagle Boys happen upon the paper too and their leader, no name given has a plan: Enter legitmately and win the cup all legal like, which dosen’t sound like it lives up to the beagle code of no hones twork.... until he brings up theri going ot cheat their asses off.

Meanwhile Scrooge tries bribing the boys with a giant trophy at their house... with Donald oddly absent despite Anselmo having taken over for Nash by this point. I know he was still a bit rough at the roll, but come on. It’s just.. weird especailly for reasons i’ll get into soon.

So Scrooge agrees to sponsor the boys teams so he can get the trophy back square, and is forced to buy a knew ball and here we FINALLY get Goofy. I say finally because this special is 20 mintues long and it takes almost a fourth of it for him to arrive. It’s just weird for him to not be in it for so long. I mean I don’t want THIS

Flashbeagle didn’t take a fourth of the special to get to Flashbeagle. It did take longer than that to get to the title track but when your sitting on THIS

youtube

You gotta use it JUST right. Goofy here is not played by Bill Farmer, which IS odd as he did start playing him that year, but my guess is they weren’t sure if they were going with Farmer or the actor who played him in this special, Tony Pope, so they were trying out both as whoever DID get the role would have it for life. Disney takes the casting of the sensational 7 VERY seriously, as evidenced by the fact most cast changes are caused by death and unlike with Tony and Donald it’s clear Colvig hadn’t picked a succesor. I can also see why it’s a hard choice: while farmer IS excellent and was the right man for the job, Pope is still excellent in the role, bringing the warmth and energy you’d expect from Goofy and having excellent comedic timing that’s vital to getting the dog man right. I can see why this was such a hard choice, even if I also see they went with Farmer: Farmer just has slightly more energy to the roll. It’s a small diffrence and something that dosen’t effect the special, but it is a KEY diffrence and the reason Bill’s THE goofy to me even over his original voice actor Pinto Colvig.

Also I may of mispoke there... see it’s not Goofy in this special it’s SPORTS Goofy. No really every bit of dialogue refers to him as Sports Goofy. It’d be like if they refered to then CEO Micheal Eisner as Won’t Think Through Eurodisneyland Micheal Eisner.

So Sports Goofy helps them get a ball in an honestly awesome way and shows despite his clumsy manner, he’s damn cordinated, easily putting everything up and showing some real skill with the ball. So Moneygrubbing Scrooge decides Sports Goofy is his ticket to get the trophy back and recuits goofy as coach and star player for the boys team.

So Asshole Scrooge meets his team the Greenbacks.. which are a bunch of random animal characters with no real personality. They are a hippo, a goat, expresso the ostrich, a navy (blue) seal, an elephant in a beanie, a killaroo and a cheetah or leopard. But I have one question, really simple really easy one...

You need 11 players for a soccer team, thank you google. So they DID get that accurate. With Goofy and the Triplets you only need 7 more. THIS is why Donald’s absence is glaring: he’s just oddly not there when they needed 7 other characters but Elephant in a Beanie gets in there. And it’s not hard ot fill either: Donald , Daisy (Because duh), Gyro and Grandma Duck (Because both cameoed but I only mentioned Grandma Duck, though this is ALSO Gyro’s first apperance), Gladstone (who as it turns out had a cameo storyboarded that didn’t make it into the final product), Gus (Since grandma duck) and Scrooge’s butler since he was in an earlier scene anyway so why waste the character model. They could still play the same roll as easily steamrolled underdogs and it’d make more sense. It just baffles me that with such a deep bench to play from, they don’t use ANY OF IT in favor of the cast of Animal Soccer World.

The Greenbacks can’t play for greenjack, which worries Scrooge.. but Goofy is able to carry them to the finals, while the Beagle Boys make their way there too. We find this out.. via newspaper transition. We get a bunch of headlines telling us what happened instead of you know a montage because that costs money and they already spent 1.50 making this special.. they only have 50 cents left.

So the Beagles recognizing Sport Goofy is the only thing in their way plots a kidnappin. We get a gut busting scene of the beagles all hiding in Sports Goofy’s house with him being oblvious only to spring on him.

The next day with Sports Goofy a no show the team is bummed, even mor ewhen they find a kidnapping note from Don’tGetNotToLeaveEvidence Beagle Boys. Seriously give that to the officals.

So Asshole Scrooge tries to give a rousing speech... and it is a sight to behold and the one highlight of pope as scrooge... it’s why I picked it as the article image. That glitching isn’t me by the way: it REALLY does that. Coupled with the yellow eyes i’ts just fantastic. So the team decides to morosely play the game and Hivemind Huey boos scrooge for not having faith in him. Instead of again you know telling the officials. Maybe assimilating the other made Huey dumber. I

So the game begins and the Cheating Beagles cream the Give Up To Easily Green Backs, while Sports Goofy watches from the other Crime Beagles hideout. It honestly reminds me of UHF: a dumb well meaning guy whose vital to something succeding is kidnapped.. it dosen’t involve Weird Al dressing up as rambo but still. It also makes me want UHF but with the disney cast. Fethry as weird al, Donald as his best friend, Fethry’s girlfriend for the comcis as weird al’s girlfriend, Gyro as philo, Goofy as Stanley, and Pete of course is Stacey Keach. I could go on but you get the point. Someone draw this. Sport Goofy is a clever bastard and escapes by working one of his shoes off, taking a nearbye knife and cutting himself free.. and almost stabbing a beagle boy in the face but that would just make two. Sport Goofy escapes and the lunkheaded beagle boys chase after him IN THEIR CAR WHILE GOOFY RUNS AHEAD OF IT. Goofy, he can really move! Goofy, he’s got attitude! Goofy HE’S THE FASTEST THING ALLIIIIVEEEEEE. Sport Goofy makes it in time fo rhalf time, rallies the troops and it goes how you’d expect: They overcome the beagles blatant cheating, win the cup, the beagles attempt to cheat with a rigged ball backfires and they all get arrested. It’s by the numbers stuff. We end with Scrooge deciding to dontate the trophy instead (though in a great bit asking if it was tax deductible), and posing for a team shot> We get some awesome credits music and we’re out

Final Thoughts:

This special is mediocre: There are only a handful of great jokes, it’s your standard “teamwork makes the dreamwork plot” that dosen’t work because our underdogs really CAN’T play without their star, and Scrooge’s voice hurts to listen to. Pope and Taylor are great and while Will Ryan is an awful Scrooge, he is a good Beagle Boy or five.

It IS worth a watch though. It’s riffable enough with the sometimes sloppy unfinished animatoin in the last part and Scrooge’s terrible voice, and it is still is a neat oddity for 90′s kids like myself to not only see Russi’s first thing as Huey Dewey and Louie, but to also see Scrooge and Goofy with vastly diffrent voice actors, as well as Gyro and the Beagle Boys first animated apperances. The fact this came just months before Ducktales makes it all the more intresting. So if your looking for a legit good Disney product.. this is shoddy at best if well meaning. But as a bit of disney history, especially only clocking in at 20 minutes so it’ sa brisk watch, it’s worth a look if your into that.

Next On Goof Week: We come on in To The House of Mouse where goofy becomes faster than a speeding punchline, more powerful than pete when his family has to wrestle him to the ground to take him to the doctor and able to make tall leaps of logic in a single bound. it’s SUPER GOOF!

So thank you for reading and if you liked this review give it a like and consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As a patron you’d get access to exclusive reviews, the patreon’s discord and to pick a short each time I do one of these shortstaculars. Donald’s comnig next month and the deadline is in only a few days to join up for said month so the clock is ticking. Even a dollar a month helps me reach my stretch goals so please i fyou can sign up today and if not, I understand and i’ll see you at the next rainbow

#sports goof #soccermania #goofy goof #goof #scrooge mcduck #ducktales #huey duck #the beagle boys #gyro gearloose #grandma duck #animation #disney #soccer #football

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papergirllife · 4 years

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Chapter 2

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem , @caratzennie , @johnnysuhnflower , @euphoricchannie , @yeollieseo , @jjhmk , @sherzess

(lmk if you wanna be on the list) (and sorry for reposting, it just won’t show on the tags)

The new house you’ve just moved in was small, you were perfectly fine with the size, you always stayed in your room anyways, the sizes elsewhere doesn’t really matter. It wouldn’t have been an issue if they weren’t making a fuss outside. They were yet again arguing about the company’s debts and complaining about the recent stock market turn outs. Your parents sold the old house in order to pay off some of the company loans, moving into a decent condominium in the older township.

Why are they so obnoxiously loud? Why can’t they talk like normal civilised people? They had an awful habit of shouting from one room to another, even if it’s about 3 feet apart, the study to the kitchen like it was just steps away.

You placed your pillow on top of your ear as the other was covered with the other one you’re sleeping on, you woke up from nightmares just this morning and needed a nap, but from the looks of things, you weren’t getting one anytime soon.

You reluctantly got up from your bed and told them to lower down their voices, but they just ignored you, as they always did. After the third time of fruitless attempt, you’ve given up hope on resting, but your body wasn’t happy with what was happening, the voices in your head hammering in your head, blaming you for what happened as you felt your heartbeat quicken, your breathing staggered. You could feel your whole body tense up as tears started to cloud your vision.

You inhaled deep breaths as you tried to push the anxiety attack away, humming a song, fiddling with a pen, but nothing you read on the internet helped. You hugged your knees towards your chest as you sat on the corner of your room, trying to muffle your choked sobs. A sentence you kept repeating in your head like a mantra,

‘make it stop.’

It’s currently 10 a.m. and your parents are rushing you to hurry up with your morning routine as they have an important meeting with some potential investor, they’re taking you along because they need an errand girl to buy them coffee and in case of any other task that is deemed much too troublesome for them like filing away documents or printing out contracts.

You woke up at the crack of dawn to get ready, so to say that you were tired after yesterday’s ordeal was an understatement. As your father told you to double check the files needed in the bag, you found out you left one up stairs, your palms sweaty as you informed them of your mishap.

“How can you be so dumb?! This is why you’re such a failure of a person! I told you to prepare everything last night! Were you day dreaming again?!” your father bellowed from the driver’s seat, his angry eyes filled with rage whenever his gaze darted to your sight through the rearview mirror, putting your lives at risk on a busy road.

You bite back retorts, head hung low through out the quick detour back, exiting the car alone to go back up and retrieve the file you left behind.

Not a day goes by where they don’t criticise you for something you did, whether an accident or not. You can feel your anxiety levels going up again as your heartbeat picks up speed, a wave of sadness coming over you. You quickly recalled a familiar song to block out their hurtful words ringing in your head.

“Useless piece of shit,” your father mumbled as he drove, throwing a clothe he uses to clean his car on your face, the rough material stinging you.

As you dug through your pockets for loose change in your jacket, your fingers found a card instead, it was Mr Suh’s card.

I can take you away from all this chaos raging among your family, if you can call it a family that is. I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N.

‘What does he mean?’ you wondered.

“Miss, you’re holding up the queue. Do you have 50 cents or not?” the cashier at your local starbucks snaps at you, yanking you away from your own thoughts.

“Sorry, I don’t,” you apologised.

You looked around you to see the long line behind you and the usual full house condition of the cafe, sighing at what you call a norm of your life now, being an errand girl for your parents, and not even a little bit of acknowledgement of your existence nor feelings.

‘Can Mr Suh really make all this stop?’ you asked yourself.

Now you think you’re ridiculous for thinking a man of such wealth and power would be interested in a girl with such a puny presence among a crowd and not even a valued family member in your family’s eyes. He’s going to get bored of a girl like you someday, how long would he stay interested? A week? A month? A year? You doubt you’ll even last a night.

You begrudgingly took the bagged coffee from the counter and quickly walked back to your parent’s office block, head hung low as you thought about your parents’ attitude if this investor ends up leaving them empty handed, shivering at the thought of being their ‘mental stress ball’.

“I’m sorry, but the debts your company is in isn’t something we’d want to have on our company’s reputation if we invested. Thank you for having us,” the man in the middle, presumably the boss said, a bored look on his face.

Just like that the investors stood up and walked out the glass door of the office. Once they were out, your parents let out a frustrated groan. You quickly hurried to close up the office as they always told you to after a meeting on weekends without workers in the office.

A month later

The company is now under leased after being certified bankruptcy. Your parents’ savings are running low, so they told you to get a part time job at a local western grocer that rich people of Seoul go to for groceries that could most probably buy you a meal at your nearby convenience store, at the winery section, where you are now giving out samples to the customers.

It wasn’t an easy job, the customers here have high standards, whatever you’re giving out as samples are always deemed lacked elegance compared to the ones that they usually have, yet they always come back for more samples the next time they come to pick up groceries, and if they’re in a good mood, they might actually buy something. People who act rich but actually aren’t as wealthy as what they boast always ticks you off, they remind you of your own family.

On Friday nights, when the alcohol section always closes earlier are the times when you’ll head to the bookstore in the same mall you were working at to read, you knew that’s a really rude thing to do, but you can’t afford buying books anymore. So you read a few chapters every night, and slightly more on Friday nights, you never told your parents about the different working hours on this particular day of the week, you don’t want to go back earlier just to see their scowling faces as they hunch over different sorts of bills and statements.

You finally found a way to cope with your anxiety levels and depression by working out early in the morning, you read from the newspapers at the worker’s lounge in the grocer that it helps, and so you gave it a try, little did you know that you would enjoy it and the feeling of staying fit boosted your confidence. But on days when you felt tired and didn’t achieve the results you were aiming at, your mind reminds you of the times when your parents called you ugly, it was started when they found out you were dating, on those days, a shut of your eyes and you’ll remember the scene of them hitting you unfolding once again, if you focused hard enough you could still feel the sting on your face.

You pushed those thoughts away as you quickly packed up for the night, as you were preparing to leave, a man came in your section, requesting to buy a bottle of wine. You were going to say that the winery section is closed, but as you turned around, the words got stuck in your throat.

It was Mr Suh, dressed in his usual working attire. Even after sitting in the office for a whole day, he still looks breathtaking, his clothes held no crease.

“Y/N,” Mr Suh said your name, the corners of his lips tugging up in a smile.

He remembers you? After so long?

“Mr Suh. H-how can I help you?” you asked, eyes darting around hoping that there aren’t any more customers, worried that they’ll realise that you were letting Mr Suh in despite the closing time.

You weren’t as anxious as talking to strangers before, but Mr Suh was no stranger to you, not really anyways, and he always had an aura that made you shy away from his presence.

“I’m looking for a bottle of Pinot Noir by Emos,” Mr Suh told you.

You took tiny but hurried steps towards a counter where the grocer kept its more expensive bottles, typed in the password and handed it to him. You silently went to the counter, typing in the bottle’s code to ring up the register.

Mr Suh handed you 200 dollars, for a bottle that only costed 85. When you opened your mouth to tell him about the error, he stopped you.

“That’s tip for bothering you after working hours, keep it,” he said.

You tried to disagree, but he refused, saying that it is what he should do. Mr Suh bid you goodbye, before he leaves your sight, he looks back at you with an odd glint in his eyes, one that you fail to read once again.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

The wine was supposed to be for his conquest tonight, yet when he walked through that hotel door, he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy tonight at all. Maybe the girl isn’t pretty enough? No, she was his usual take on girls he brings to bed, but something was very much off.

Johnny didn’t usually mind a bit of harmless flirting over wine before sex, he did have a tiring day at work, usually this process would calm him down a bit before getting down to business. However, he found the flirting part rather boring and very much tedious today, the girl’s flirty remarks seemed it was droning on to no end. So he sped things up, the wine long forgotten as their limbs tangle up with the sheets.

There was something nagging him behind his head, he couldn’t place a finger on it, until when he closed his eyes, instead of seeing the girl beneath him, he saw you, your tiny body beneath his as your beautiful glossy eyes look into his, the size difference between the two of you significant in his head. That was the image that kept him going, the usual him would open his eyes wide and take in the figure beneath him, but today he kept his eyes closed as he places his head on her shoulder, that action might seem affectionate, but this was just an excuse for Johnny to let his imagination run wild without being questioned.

Johnny left after washing up in the bathroom, leaving just after one round isn’t his style at all, usually Johnny could go up to four or five if he enjoyed the first round, Johnny lets out a big sigh as he gets back into the car, he should’ve asked you to dinner instead of wasting time fucking a girl just to have him imagine her being you in order to finish up.

Johnny puts his car on drive as he swiftly leaves the parking lot, hoping a night’s sleep would clear his thoughts of you. But as Johnny’s head hits his soft pillow, he could only ask himself.

‘What are you doing to me, Y/N?’

When you woke up the next day after a long night of reading through your business course books, trying to take in whatever you can before they realise that you don’t really know what you’re reading at all.

You walked out to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast, but before you got there, you heard voices.

“We can’t send her college, we don’t have any money left,” you heard your father’s voice say.

“But it’s her future, you’re going to put that after the company?” your mother’s voice questions.

“It’s not like she’s smart enough for it anyways. I walk by her room while she studies, and it seems like she’s just staring at an empty void, we can’t place our future in her hands, we’ll starve!” your father argues back.

What your father said had stung your heart, but after a minute or so after taking it in, it wasn’t the first time they had said such hurtful words about you. You dragged your feet back to bed, no longer having the appetite for breakfast.

You went out for a run when you felt your heartbeat quicken up as your mind floods back all the bad memories that were brought forth because of the conversation you overheard between your parents, trying your best to avoid a full on anxiety attack.

Johnny loves weekends, it was the only time he could invest himself into working out instead of the short two hours he does before work, the gym is the place where he built up his high self esteem, and it’s the reason other than his good looks of course, that brings all the girls into his sight.

Yet he didn’t feel like he achieved as much in the gym after last night’s events. Yes, he did give in his full attention in all the exercises. He purposely slept early so he could feel energized today. Yet he didn’t have the desire to show off his body through a one night stand. The party that he said he would go seemed troublesome instead of his usual excitement of knowing he wasn’t going to bed alone. He took out his phone to text his friend that he was going to sit this one out, making up an excuse about not feeling well.

Johnny was laying around watching television as he scrolled through the latest news of the stock market, feeling a sense of pride as he sees his company’s stock rising after he had taken over from his father.

The familiar chime of his grandfather clock in the corner alerts Johnny of the time, 7 chimes means 7pm. Something suddenly clicks in his head, the sign that states the operating hours for the winery in the mall, you were going to go off work in thirty minutes.

Johnny quickly changes into jeans and a black knitted sweater that hugs his physique perfectly, styling his hair a bit before heading out his door, a smile unconsciously gracing his pretty lips.

When Johnny got to the winery section, he was disappointed to see that you had left, only left with a promoter of some beer, he tried his luck with the staff, hoping to know your whereabouts.

“It’s a Saturday today, so I think she’s off to buy a cup of instant noodles for dinner, she’ll either be at the cashier counters now, or eating at the food court.”

Johnny thanks the promoter as he rushes to the counters, he wouldn’t have spotted you if he didn’t recognise the baby blue checkered scrunchie popping up from the crowd that you wore the last time to match your uniform.

Johnny makes his way in between the masses of people, making some people frown in disbelief as his large figure makes them move away. Johnny plucked the cup of instant noodles out of your hand when he got there, making you jump in fright from the sudden intrusion of your wandering thoughts.

“Mr Suh?” you addressed him when you looked up to see who had took away your favourite brand of cup noodles.

“You’re not eating that tonight, come with me,” Johnny said, his voice more cheerful than the previous times you had seen him, but why?

Johnny takes your hands in his, a smirk making way on his face as he feels your small shaky hands in his large ones, he didn’t mind one bit, instead he likes how shy you are around him. Johnny places the cup of instant noodles on some nearby shelf before dragging you out of the grocer.

When he was out, he stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at you, trying to look into your eyes that were darting away from his. He finds it endearing, how you’re always so nervous whenever you’re with him, it was something very much new to him.

Johnny suggests a few high class restaurants for dinner, rattling off big names in hopes to impress you.

“I-i was only planning to have a cup of instant noodles, Mr Suh. Anything’s fine to me,” you said after many times of trying to tell him that he didn’t need to take you out for dinner.

“But I want you to choose. Go ahead, anywhere you want,” Johnny said and waits, curious of what you’ll pick.

You rocked on you heels and bit your lip in thought as you wrecked your head for ideas to get yourself out of this situation, but you couldn’t help but feel the desire to grab dinner with him instead of eating cup noodles at the food court alone again, and the fact that his hand was still held onto yours made you feel a sense of serenity and had a need to stay with him.

“Do you have somewhere which makes you feel like a child again when you eat their food?”

Johnny was taken back by such a request. Was it touching? He hasn’t felt that from anyone else other than his family and a handful of close friends, certainly not a lady other than his mom. Was it different? Yes. But was it bad? Certainly not, instead he feels a tug in his heart. The girls he met only made requests, instead of asking for his opinion, because they know he could afford anything they requested for, but then there’s you, breaking all of those other girls’ standards. You were also the first one who made him speechless, even if it was just a mere seconds.

“I know a place.”

You genuinely didn’t know why you had made such a sentimental suggestion, you just thought that food from a restaurant that reminds him of home would mean that it was affordable, but other than that reason, it was because if you were to have dinner with a man whom you only had met a handful of times, you might as well get to know him better by knowing little things about him.

You weren’t dumb, you remember what he had said about being interested in you, and that having dinner with him was a risk to your own safety as well. Yet you couldn’t stray away from his dashing smile and the way his eyes shine so brightly when he sees you.

You were slowly falling down the rabbit hole.

The interior of his car had several alterations made to suite his liking, it was interesting, compared to the people who just bought cars based on their ranking and wealth just for bragging rights in an afternoon tea. His car even smelt nice, like the Jo Malone cologne you’ve taken a whiff from the sample sticks given out, you wonder if that’s what he usually wears to work.

You couldn’t help but steal peeks at Mr Suh when he drives, the way he’s so concentrated and how he could casually drive with only one hand on the wheel made you swoon slightly in the passenger seat as his rnb music plays on the radio. You shouldn’t be thinking about Mr Suh this way regardless that he’s interested in you, especially given that the two of you have quite a large age gap, as well as the fact that you weren’t allowed to date until after college. If your parents found out about you going out with Mr Suh, they’re going to skin you alive. That thought made you shiver as you suddenly realise that you can’t be seen with a man out in public, if any of your relatives find out, they’ll definitely snitch on you.

You lowered yourself in the seat as you hope that you won’t run into any of your family members when you reach wherever Mr Suh’s taking you. The drive was quiet, only the radio playing softly in the background, making you feel relaxed. Suddenly, Johnny stopped at the traffic lights, taking a long look at you from his seat.

“Why did you suggest eating somewhere which reminds me of my childhood?” Johnny asked, his eyes full of seriousness.

“I-i just wanted to get to know you better, is that not the right way to make friends?” you answered, glad that you’ve pondered this question yourself.

“It’s not the usual way, but I like how you think, Y/N,” Johnny said before he averts his attention back on the road when the lights turned green.

Johnny could sense something was off with you from the way you looked around anxiously from your seat when the both of you reached your destination, the way your brows furrowed and the way your jittery fingers mindlessly move about. It wasn’t a shady part of town, although the two of you were at the slightly older establishments of Seoul.

“Are you alright? Why are you suddenly so nervous?” Johnny asked, worry written on his face.

You looked down on your fingers that were splayed across your lap, twitching the hem of your skirt to try and calm your nerves with no avail, but you had to say something, Mr Suh, as you’ve grown to realise is a man who’s persistent and straight forward.

“I’m worried that we’ll bump into anyone I know. I’m...I’m not supposed to be seeing anyone or going out with people without permission,” you told him, embarrassed at the fact that you were still very much on a leash despite being an adult.

Johnny feels a sense of guilt settling down his stomach as he sees your eyes avoiding him, if he could take a guess, you must feel embarrassed right now, to have a family like that, maybe that’s why you distant yourself from people around you, they must’ve judged you based on your parents’ decisions towards your life.

Johnny reached towards the spare sweater he kept in his gym bag and handed it to you.

“Here, this has a hoodie. I don’t think anyone would be able to recognise you with it on,” Johnny said in a gentle tone, not even a hint of judgement in his voice.

You obliged and slipped the sweater on, as well as the hoodie onto your head. The sight of your small figure drowning in Johnny’s hoodie made him smile, he never thought his clothes would look so cute on you.

“Come on, it’s peak hour and I’m starving,” Johnny said with a smile that seems to always lift your mood.

You nodded mindlessly, eyes gazed into his warm honey filled eyes and soft smile. When Johnny’s trance broke on you, you quickly reached for the car door, only to see Johnny opening it for you.

‘Must be nice to have long legs to walk that fast,’ you thought to yourself.

But when he held his hand out to help you out of the car, that’s when your head went haywire and could only feel your cheeks burning up from the gentlemanly gesture that you hadn’t expected.

You hope your hand wasn’t shaking as obviously as it felt, or that would’ve been very embarrassing, you thank the skies for the chilly weather, or your hands would’ve started getting clammy from what a nervous wreck you’ve become.

The cold was getting to you as the both of you were waiting in line for a table and Johnny could tell from the way you subtly rubbed your neck, hands lingering there to leave some warmth as the wind blows by. Without thinking, he grabs the drawstrings of his hoodie and secures it surrounding your face like a cute chipmunk.

“There, all better.”

He could tell how nervous his bold action made you feel from the way you stuttered out a thank you, the two words almost lost in the wind from how soft it sounded.

Johnny didn’t know why, but the way you’ll get all flustered from his actions warms his chest like a cup of hot coco in the winter snow.

Not long after, the two of you had gotten a tiny table for two. It was cramped, but Johnny didn’t mind, as long as it’s this restaurant, and as a plus, he could see your face from a closer perspective. He was secretly admiring the shape of your cute little nose while he pretended to look through the menu that he knew like the back of his palm.

“What’s your favourite on the menu? I don’t know what to try first, all the pictures look so nice,” you said as your eyes was open wide with interest, taking in the photos of the food on the colourful menu.

Johnny was taken aback on how you had asked for his opinion instead of the demands of carvier and champagne that he used to hear all the time. He must’ve had a weird look on his face, because the silence made you furrow your brows.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve sounded weird and came off as boring, but I really don’t know what to get, so I thought you should suggest me something since you seem to come here often. Sorry, I ramble a lot when I’m nervous, I’m not a very sociable person, so the things I say might come off as odd...

“No, Y/N, listen, it’s fine. I like it when you talk, and it’s cute that you ramble. And no, I don’t find you odd or boring. I was just surprised you’d ask for my opinion, not many people do that unless it’s about business. I’m glad that you value my opinion, even if it’s just dinner,” Johnny explained, he wanted to listen to your voice longer, but the thought of anything making you uncomfortable surprisingly annoyed Johnny.

It was the first time someone had not found you awkward when you started rambling, you didn’t do it on purpose, it was just that the lack of human interaction made you socially anxious about talking to people and when you want to express something. Johnny is truly an eye opener for you.

Johnny might have ordered a little bit too much for the two of you, but he could always take away and leave it for Mark when he drops by tomorrow. Although Johnny had came here many times, mostly on his own or with Mark, he couldn’t deny the satisfaction and happiness that filled his heart as you tried all the dishes with the most wholesome expressions on your face.

You weren’t Johnny’s workers or business partners, you didn’t need to appease him and give him positive reactions, because with you, he wasn’t Neo Enterprise’s CEO, he was just Johnny and it doesn’t bother him one bit.

The two of you talked about the most random things, from Johnny’s business partners Taeyong and Doyoung fighting in his office, to the time you pranked your co worker by mixing some heavy alcohol into his coffee.

“He couldn’t tell?” Johnny asked, curious because he was a coffee addict himself.

“He thought it was just part of the flavour, it was one of those seasonal starbucks drinks that he bought,” you explained.

Johnny paid for dinner before you could protest and refused to take your money when you had offered to pay him back your share.

You trudged beside Johnny silently when he said that he was going to take you home, you haven’t had such a nice time since forever, and you didn’t want this beautiful moment to come to an end.

You had a sad smile on your face as you watched Johnny drive, it was a peaceful scenery to take in, his face calm as he steered comfortably, the radio once again playing softly in the background.

When you had reached your house, you didn’t really know how to react, other than looking at him silently as he does the same as well.

“Thank you for tonight Johnny, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” you said genuinely, grateful that someone as interesting as Johnny would even bother giving you the time of the day.

You figured that this was the polite thing to say, but you inwardly cursed at yourself for sounding like a robot. You shouldn’t be reacting this way, especially due to the fact that he’s so much more older than you are, maybe not too old, 5 to 6 years maybe? Is that considered a big age gap?

“I had a great time with you too, Y/N. Thank you for having dinner with me,” Johnny said, usually he spoke this sentence like a little white lie to whoever he had to meet for business sake, but to you? It was nothing but the truth.

Johnny continued holding his stare even after what he said, the sincerity in his eyes evident as a soft smile graces his lips.

“You should head up now, Y/N. It’s already 9 p.m., if you stay any longer they’ll be suspicious,” Johnny reminded you.

“Yeah, okay,” you replied, immediately feeling down once more.

Even after you agreed to go up, your legs weren’t willing to move, you were going to miss him, so you asked him one last question before you willed yourself to open the car door, you were going to sound desperate, but in that moment, you didn’t have a care in the world.

“Will I ever see you again?”

Happiness fills your heart as you heard the question that comes after.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct 127 #johnny suh #johnny smut #nct #nct 2020 #nct dream #wayv #johnny seo

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Arcadia

➜ Words: 9.6k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Dystopia!AU, Utopia!AU

➜ Summary: In a new era, the human race has largely been eradicated through warfare and disease. You are one of the few left, living in the forest and making use of the wild. Or at least that's what you think until a man quite literally crashes into your home.

cr.

It happened in the afternoon. A deafening noise from the sky. A thin whistle that crescendoed. Louder than what you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It shrieked horrifically — rumbling the ground — roaring through the silent forest. And you looked up to see a streak of white in the sky. Immediately, you dropped the animal in hand, abandoned the trap at your feet and ducked your head. But the explosions never came raining down on your skull. Instead, it happened in the distance. An explosion that made the evening sky spark bright white. It took a full minute for it to die down, for the smoke to fade into the horizon as if nothing occurred a moment ago. Yet, you stalked the fumes and commotion, crept in the shadows. You knew better than to approach foreign things, to approach clamor and potential danger. But the forest had been quiet for so long that it provoked your curiosity. What you found past the shrubbery and trunks of spruce is a giant white cylinder with rounded edges. A capsule. So white that it burnt to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. But the colour had been marred by dirt and foliage after it crash-landed. The mud and ground hugged it, molded against the shape after it quite literally smashed into the Earth. Before you could approach the thing and investigate, there was another noise. An unfamiliar whirring. It made you flinch and stumble back, taking refuge behind the trees. But as you peeked out, you saw something crawling out of the open compartment. A groan. Someone. You hadn’t seen another person in years. Immediately, you stepped forward and he saw you. Eyes darting to look into yours. He was in stark white clothing from top to bottom, pants that stopped too short at his ankles, a shirt that was cut awkwardly and too small for his broad shoulders. It was vivid against his dark hair and golden skin, almost made him look ridiculous. But you supposed at the time you didn’t look any better — ripped jeans, dirtied boots, a worn jacket taken years ago from some loot and your hair tucked into a baseball cap with a logo too faded away to discern. “I-I won’t hurt you,” he stutters out, putting up his hands. “I...I’m Seokjin. I’m part of the rescue fleet of Arcadia.” Arcadia? The man, Seokjin, sighs after your ongoing silence. “Sorry. Of course you wouldn’t understand me. I,” he enunciates slowly and points to himself. “Am. Friend.” His hands wildly form a heart for you to see and then he points at you with his left while still making wild gestures with his right. He tries to smile brightly. “I. Help. You—” “I understand you,” you deadpan with an impassive expression. The man is visibly taken aback, eyes rounded as his mouth opens and closes comically. “Y-You can speak?” Your arm lifts and your index finger points at his head. “You’re bleeding.” ... .. . He looks around the interior of the tree house like a lost child, seated on the floor and waiting for his parents to return. It’s a meager shack made of alder, large gaps for windows, tattered backpacks stained and collected in the corner by some pairs of shoes and an old radio. There’s a fishing line hung diagonally across the room and above his head, used to dry clothing. But he finds himself drawn to the radio and crawls over to try to switch it on, tugging on its antenna, turning the dials. Yet, all that answers is noisy static. “It’s been broken since a long time ago,” you pipe up, nearly startling him to death with your sudden presence. But you had simply climbed up the ladder quietly. “I’m still tinkering with it.” Seokjin sets the radio down. “I have a device similar to it. Thought this one would work.” He pulls out a black and thick rectangular piece of plastic from his back pocket and you scarcely recognize it. “A walkie-talkie?” “Kind of. It’s called an Erewhon device. State of the art technology, even if it looks chunky. It transmits radio waves without any limit of range and it syncs to one other device. No third can ever join or hack into it. I use this one to communicate with my base. Or at least I usually would, if the thing didn’t break in the crash.” You don’t understand anything he’s saying, so you chalk it up to gibberish. “It stings.” Seokjin sharply inhales as you apply pressure to his wound. But the ache soon alleviates when you wrap bandages around his head. “What’s your name?” It’s your last roll of bandages. “Y/N.” It’s not like you to be so generous or welcoming towards a stranger. The nature of your upbringing and life has ingrained an innate suspicion to anyone who isn’t yourself. But there’s a characteristic about the man in front of you that doesn’t make you doubt his intentions. It must also be partly because you’ve been on your own for so long and your inner subconscious is willing to dance with danger if it means having some kind of contact with another. But whatever the case may be, you don’t feel wary of Seokjin even if you should. “Are...there any others?” “Other humans? There hasn’t been any for years.” “There’s….just you?” “Just me.” Until now. “Where did you come from?” “I come from a place called Arcadia. It’s a utopian society just off the Zion mountain and Elysian Fields,” he says as if you know what those places are. “It has everything and it’s where the remaining people have gathered for years. I actually rescue people like you who are still alive and bring them back. How...how did you manage to survive on your own out here?” “I just do.” “How long have you been here?” “I don’t remember. The apocalypse happened when I was young.” Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgment like he understands. “It happened when I was seven.” “I remember celebrating my fifth birthday in an underground bunker with my parents.” He doesn’t ask where they are. If they aren’t with you now, it’s safe to assume your parents are dead like his are. “I had a lot of people help me along the way, a lot of people who died,” you say, “I’ve been in sanctuaries and communities until they fell. Everything was only temporary. So, I’ve been on my own for a while.” “Arcadia is different,” he says with bright eyes, breathy voice full of wonder and hope. “It’s where the new world is beginning. I can take you there.” “Isn’t your flying machine broken?” “You mean my Xanadu Shuttle?” Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. You notice how the tips of his ears turn scarlet. “Actually, it was my first time taking it out that far. I’m kind of new to all this. But don’t worry! When it crashed, it sent a notification to headquarters and gave coordinates, so they should find me soon. I’ll try to fix my Erewhon device too.” You don’t pretend like you know the things he’s referring to. “Are you hungry?” “I have dried pemmican!” He lights up as if remembering and pulls a transparent wrapped bar from his back pocket. You wonder what else is in those endless pockets of his. Seokjin must read the puzzled expression on his face since his smile widens. “Want to try it?” “Sure.” You rip open the wrapper and you’re met with a dark red and gray block, and a meaty scent that makes you slightly nauseous. But you’ve eaten worse before, so you take a bite. Seokjin instantly laughs when your expression wrinkles up. “It tastes better the more you eat it. Promise.” “It’s awful.” There’s a temptation to spit it out the window, but afraid that it might be considered rude, you swallow it down and quickly hand back the monstrosity to him. “Do you want rabbit?” “Sure.” … .. . It’s odd to eat a meal with someone — an experience that you’re unable to pinpoint your last memory of. It’s rather mundane, but mundanity has long been a privilege in this era. “You can sleep in the tree house if you want.” “Where will you be?” “I usually like to sleep on the forest floor anyway.” It isn’t a lie. One of the few things you love is drifting off while gazing at the stars, that the last thing you see is the sparkling horizon before it’s blue again when you awake. “How many people are there in Arcadia?” “About twenty five hundred people so far.” So far. But if what he tells you is true, then it’s a big settlement. As if able to see how he’s piqued your curiosity, Seokjin continues, “It’s an amazing place and we’re completely self-sufficient. There’s an agriculture industry that’s growing and greenhouses underground that gives us all the food we need. They developed a water filtration system as well and it’s connected to the mountain springs nearby. There are pods that people live in, schools that kids can go to, jobs, medicine— you’ll see when I take you back.” “I never said I was going with you.” “What? Why wouldn’t you?” You don’t answer. … .. . “Morning.” You watch as he climbs down the ladder and nearly slips off. It’s an amusing sight to see his hair in a disarray and his eyes swollen beyond recognition. “Glad to see you’re finally up.” Seokjin, on the other hand, is baffled at how you’re already moving so energetically. “When….did you get up?” “Since sunrise. Changed your bandages too, if you didn’t already notice. I’m getting breakfast prepared. There’s a stream down this path that you can wash your face in. Collect water for me while you’re at it.” You hand him a silver pail. Walking off, Seokjin finally gets a good look at the forest. It’s quiet, save for the chickadees he notices in the thin branches of the spruce, twiddling as he passes and the woodpeckers hammering against the alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And the verdant green almost blinds his vision with how vivid it is. He’s never been so surrounded in nature before — never has it encapsulated him completely. When Seokjin returns, he’s more alert than before. “Thought you got lost for a second. You can set the water over there. Do you want to help me look at my traps?” He follows you and nearly steps into a trap before you yell at him. But he’s amazed. You’ve designated a whole section full of traps made of loose string and branches, and when he asks, he learns they’re treadle snares to drowning snares. “They don’t yield a lot of food. It depends on the season, but it mainly depends on luck.” “What do you usually eat then?” “I have some canned stuff from the cities, but there’s a lot of berries and herbs around here that are edible. I’m in the process of growing some basil and tomatoes too, so I never really starve out here.” Seokjin is astounded. You can see it on his face, but you don’t know why that is. It’s not like any of these things are impressive. It’s just things you learn once you’ve lived out here long enough. “You’re making a fire now?” He watches as you take out a curved piece of wood with string attached and another piece that’s pointed at the end. You saw it back and forth on some more wood and Seokjin watches the smoke, how the friction creates the heat, how you transfer the embers to tinder. “Is this how you always make fire?” “Nowadays. At the beginning when I still had materials, I would use batteries and steel wool. Even flint and steel. But the bow drill method works fine. I save my matches for when I need them.” “That’s incredible. Is this what you do? I mean, collect food and make fires.” “I guess.” “Do you do anything else? Do you ever get bored?” It’s an interesting question — boredom. A privilege in itself to be bored rather than worried. Though you suppose that in this quiet forest with no one else, it’s a wonder how you never went insane. But while loneliness sporadically plagues you, you’ve never necessarily felt isolated or deprived. It’s always been this way. You’ve learnt to adapt to it. Humans can handle more than they think when push comes to shove. “There’s always something to do. Whether that’s upkeeping the tree house or making more traps or planting. But sometimes in the summer, I go exploring for a few days. Into the cities. There’re lots of places I haven’t been. It’s a good opportunity for me to get seeds, food, and clothes, so I’m never….bored.” “Wow, t-that’s...that’s impressive.” “There’s nothing impressive. It’s just the way things are.” “I...went to Arcadia in its early days,” Seokjin explains, “It was established twenty years ago, right after the apocalypse began, so I’ve never really got to see the outside world.” “They don’t let you leave?” “It’s not that. It just isn’t safe to. Actually, that’s why I wanted to join the rescue fleet. It gives me a chance to see the outside world.” “You haven’t even seen anything yet. If you want….I can take you somewhere. Better than this.” “Really?!” Seokjin’s eyes widen, irises practically glistening. Your lips tickle, threatening to upturn. “Sure.” … .. . Past the stream and thicket is a clearing. A meadow of daisies. It’s overgrown grass that reaches to your knees, white petals spilling over with yellow centers filled among them. The sound of insects buzzing and circling through the field is heard as the sun beats down. You found this place a good year ago and while it doesn’t serve much of a purpose, you left it undisturbed. The apocalypse was a catastrophe, but it did a lot for nature. “This….this….” Seokjin is breathless, unable to force a coherent word out. He looks over at the blue horizon that seems to steal the land as the abundance of flowers overwhelms his senses. “It’s beautiful, huh?” He stays silent, taking in the sight in front of him. He has seen a vase of flowers at best — most certainly not a boundless field of them. Not like this. Not in the entirety of his life so far. Not in a way where he could inhale the fresh air, count clouds, memorize the azure shade of the sky, and not where he is unable to see where the end or the start is. Seokjin is overwhelmed, and he realizes why the choice to stay remains. Why you would refuse his offer of coming back with him to Arcadia. A part of him also wants to stay here. Where freedom lies. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs while still taking in the sight. The colours are so rich that he feels regretful he couldn’t see it sooner. “I didn’t mean to push you to come with me.” “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.” Seokjin finally peels his eyes away from the scenery to gaze at you. Yet you continue to look forward. “You made me curious about this Arcadia.” And the corner of his mouth turns into a smile. … .. . The next few days are spent with Seokjin — noisy at your side, but it’s entirely invited. He goes back to his vehicle, his so-called fancy Xanadu Shuttle, and tries to contact his people. Much like your radio, there’s only static on the other end when he flips and fiddles with switches and the lights eventually die off. He messes with his Erewhon too, the little walkie-talkie device, though it’s to no avail. But Seokjin never becomes discouraged. He remains optimistic, a rarity in today’s climate. The man has no doubts they’ll come for him and even reassures you. In the meanwhile, you show him how to start a fire, how to collect berries and certain plants, and he helps you sharpen the knives you have. But the man looks away when you have to kill the animal you trapped and he makes you kill the bugs that land on him as well. It’s a bit ridiculous and outlandish, but frighteningly natural how quickly he falls into place and adapts. You forgot what it was like to have someone with you. To be able to talk to someone. … .. . “Are you ever lonely?” Seokjin asks one night when he’s laid on the grass, arms tucked underneath his head and staring up at the stars by your side. He copied you after several occasions where he found you like that. You immediately heard the gasp that left his mouth the first time he laid down. It’s beautiful enough that he’s unconcerned with insects and doesn’t get up until you chide him to. “Sometimes. Then I think about how people are more trouble than they’re worth.” He grins. “Why do you say that?” “People mess up things and always have their self-interest at heart. Learned it after I had a gun pointed on me by someone I thought was a friend.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright. Just the way things are. Anything to survive, right?” “Is that why you’re on your own?” “Partly. It’s hard when people die too. I’d rather not deal with that.” “Why’d you agree to help me then?” Seokjin asks after a moment. “If people always mess things up.” “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone. I thought talking to you would be worth the risk. And it’s not like you’re not messing things up. I’m leaving with you, right?” Seokjin grins, meeting your eyes. It goes quiet and then you pipe up again— “I do sing sometimes to myself. Helps keep me sane.” “Like what?” “I don’t know.” “Show me.” You outright scoff. “No.” “Please?” A sharp exhale later, you start mumbling, slurring words together in some obscure melody. Your voice is rigid and stiff, out of tune even to your own ears. But you’ve heard it from your parents before. It’s some jingle on television back when electricity still worked. Instantly, Seokjin starts laughing. “Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t know the lyrics!” “No, no, i-it’s amazing, please continue!” Seokjin squeaks out in the midst of a giggling fit and the corner of your own mouth twitches into a subtle smile. … .. . Unfortunately, these simple days don’t last long. Seokjin continues messing with his Erewhon device whenever he gets the chance — banging it on the tree house wall much to your dismay, curling up with it using a screwdriver kit he got from his capsule — and one evening, it suddenly comes alive. There’s the sound of static and someone’s muffled voice. “Hello?! Code White. R-six-four-three. This is Kim Seokjin from fleet seventy two.” “R-four-......three-nine.” It’s difficult to discern, but that’s all the other line says before the device goes silent again. You look to Seokjin, anticipating dejection and disappointment. But instead, a grin spreads into his cheeks and his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “Y/N. They’re coming soon.” … .. . It’s a morning of checking for traps, of hearing the orchestral songs of nature, of holding your breath as the breeze whisks through the strands of your hair. You’re tip-toeing to the simple snare laid on the ground when the familiar, deafening noise returns to the sky. A thin whistle that crescendos. Louder than you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It rumbles the ground, roaring through the silent forest. And you look up to see a streak of white in the sky. It’s a larger white vessel with glass windows around. So white that it burns to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. And it descends to the same place Seokjin crash-landed. Seokjin finds you and the two of you venture through the forest and shrubby towards it. There’s a whirring and a compartment opens. Three different people step out, dressed in that unnatural white much like Seokjin is, pants and shirt cut off oddly. They look at Seokjin with smiles and incredulous expressions. “I can’t believe you actually crashed.” “It wasn’t my fault, JK!” Seokjin whines immediately and then quickly greets the other two females who he’s evidently less friendly with. “Amber. Lizzy. Good to see you too.” “This something I expected from Namjoon or even Jimin, not you,” the shorter-hair girl named Amber huffs out as she playfully shakes her head. “At least he’s safe,” Lizzy says with a smile. “Saves us from having to transport him back in a stretcher. But….who’s….that?” Her eyes dart over to you and the other two strangers follow her line of sigh, re-directing their attention. Then their mouths drop open, eyes widening in surprise, having not seen you there. Seokjin steps aside, allowing the light to shed on you. “She’s a lone one.” “A-A lone one…?” “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Amber whispers softly, lowering herself to meet your height and connect your eyes with hers as if you were a wounded animal. But then light flashes beneath her irises and her brows furrow. “Right. She might not know how to speak. Where’s my translation devi—” The corner of Seokjin’s mouth tilts. “She does.” You step forward, directly underneath the canopy spotlight coming through the spruce, walnut, and alder. “My name is Y/N.”

Arcadia. It’s protected by a dome-like structure reminiscent of glass, but as one of the strangers narrates, it’s supposedly a magnetic force field to protect against natural disasters. The place is ruled by tall buildings like the cities, but unlike it in the sense that they’re not decaying. They haven’t turned brown under wear and tear, don’t have moss growing on the sides of it. Rather, there are patches of green in between the paved pathways, flickering screens that are seemingly floating mid-air, masses of people walking past one another. It’s a utopian society, they tell you. But you’re not sure what that means. “Welcome to Arcadia,” the voice from above speaks rigidly. The door whirs as it opens. And white is all you see. White floors. White walls. People dressed in white. The white lights burn your vision as you stagger out, being aided by the strangers who were onboard with you. They welcome you. Tell you they hope this place could be your refuge and new home. And you’re taken immediately by strangers until you begin thrashing, calling out to Seokjin until he consoles you. He promises that they mean no harm, that he’ll see you soon, and it’s enough for you to be relieved. They lead you away, give you a new set of white clothing that are soft to the touch and a bin to place your old clothes in. You feel vulnerable as you strip from your grimy clothes and trade them in. You’ve never been able to afford to hold onto sentimentalities. But it’s hard to let them go. … .. . “Hello—” The doctor glances at his clipboard. “You must be the new refugee, Y/N! Oh right, they call it newcomer now, not refugee. Anyway, nice to meet you, I’m Jung Hoseok. I’ll be assessing you today and setting you up to live in Arcadia. You understand me, correct?” “Yes, I do.” “Excellent! Makes things easier for me if we can speak the same language. But feel free to tell me if you want me to slow down. We’ll take things one step at a time.” The man grins brightly and sits on his stool, spinning around to a thin screen on the desk. “We’re going to be doing some tests together today, so I can figure out what I’ll need to help you with and we can make sure your transition is as smooth as possible.” “Okay.” You knew a doctor once. She was similar to him, whimsical as he seemingly is, until she had to amputate her own arm and then bled to death. “Do you have any questions?” “Not really.” There’s an eye examination done until you tell him you don’t know all the letters of the alphabet. He switches to pictures afterwards and is enthused as he tells you that your eyes are apparently fine. He makes you lay down and open your mouth to examine your teeth. You spit into a vial, have your blood drawn. You step into a white capsule with black bars twirling around you. He shows you a picture of your bones and scanned brain with the excitement akin to a child’s afterwards. And he asks too many questions. “So you mainly ate rabbits, berries and other plants? Fascinating.” — “How often do you sleep?” — “So your bowel movements were pretty consistent?” You miss Seokjin. … .. . “Seokjin, can you please tell us what happened on the fifth?” The commander, chief, supervisor and several others are seated on the other side of the table. “Yes. I was dispatched to forty one degrees, twenty four point two eight minutes north. Halfway there, I….became distracted by the scenery, and went off course. I became alert again when the shuttle skimmed along treetops. The console received a malfunction notification and I subsequently crashed into a forest area.” “The maintenance record shows your Xanadu Shuttle was updated on the second of the previous month?” “Yes.” “Then do you accept responsibility for this incident?” “Yes, I do.” There’s no point in putting up a fight. All the evidence is all in the machinery and Seokjin had made no attempt to hide it. “I’m interested in the girl you rescued,” the Commander speaks up, tapping his pen on his clipboard. “When did you come into contact with her after you crashed?” “After I crashed, I exited my Xanadu Shuttle and caught sight of her standing amongst the trees. I think...the accident got her attention and she came to investigate what it was.” He nods and the people on the other side of the table look around at one another. There are soft murmurs and Seokjin stays quiet through their deliberation, keeping his eyes on his own report. After a minute, it simmers down. “The panel appreciates your honesty and integrity, Seokjin. In spite of your circumstances, you were able to rescue someone who will become a valuable member to our society and such a thing should not be overlooked. However, the crash was ultimately on your part and as such, you will have to be put on probation for a period of two months. The panel will also require that you retake your license class. Do you agree these actions are necessary?” Relief washes over him. Seokjin thought this was it. He was anticipating that he’d lose his job. “Y-Yes. Thank you.” “You will have to pass your license class.” “Yes, I will.” “There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you, Seokjin,” The Commander speaks up. “I spoke to our Premier and Minister prior to this meeting and we came to an agreement that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if you could foster the newcomer you rescued. Typically, as you know, we house newcomers for a while and monitor them. But she...seems to be a special case.” The Chief furrows his brows. “Yes, she was isolated, wasn’t she?” It’s known to all that the lone ones are usually the people that are most unstable. The ones with animalistic behaviour as a result of living in the wild and being socially deprived. The problematic ones. But they’re wrong. Seokjin doesn’t outright refute his own superiors, yet he’s certain that you don’t have any of those issues. You’re not violent. Uncivilized. Barbaric. “Usually people are found in groups or clusters.” “Exactly that. But it seems like Seokjin has built a rapport with her. It might lead to a smoother transition if there’s immediate integration. Or at least, it’s an experiment we want to try. He has a calm temperament as well which makes him an ideal candidate to attempt this new method. Would you be willing to house this newcomer for a period of time, Seokjin?” He doesn’t need a second longer to think about it. “I wouldn’t mind whatsoever.” ... .. . Seokjin finds you and almost bursts out laughing with how relieved you look. “Jin!” He doesn’t mind the nickname either. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Hoseok twirls around with a blazing smile, his white coat fluttering with him. “But I have a feeling you’re here to see my little guest and not me.” “You’re right.” He enters and stands by your side. “Has everything been alright?” “Of course!” Hoseok interjects before you can answer. “I’m one of the best doctors here, what do you take me for? We had a very fun time together, right, Y/N?” “Uh, sure.” “I’ll take it.” Seokjin smiles and looks at his old friend. “Is there anything…?” “She’s healthy. She’s been taking care of herself well. Nothing that’s too concerning.” Hoseok's eyes meet yours and he grins. “You’re approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have any family here in Arcadia, but you don’t have any diseases, so that’s something to be happy about! Minimal dental work that needs to be done. Blood pressure is good. You have a slight magnesium and iodine deficiency, but nothing dark greens, whole grains, fish and eggs can’t fix. I’ll give you some vitamins to be safe and some medication to avoid illnesses you’re potentially susceptible to in Arcadia.” “That’s good news,” Jin exhales. “You’re also healthy enough to have children!” Hoseok announces and if possible his grin widens. You blink at him and he quickly reads your confused expression. “Right, you might not be aware but it’s one of the main ambitions of Arcadia to repopulate society. People with the most compatible genes get paired together into family units. Depending on how your integration goes, you might get paired up in a family unit by the end of the week.” “What?” You’re reeling. Starting a family and having children are things at the very back of your mind, not even in the realm of what your thoughts are, and you’re not sure what to think at this news. Jin sighs at his friend. “You’re freaking her out.” “Am I? Sorry,” the man laughs and looks at you. “Don’t worry. No one will force you. It’s just...highly suggested and recommended.” … .. . “That’s the dining hall.” “What do they serve?” “On Mondays, there’s quinoa. Tuesday is this dried beans dish. So on and so forth. Don’t worry, there’s poultry too, so there are eggs and chicken breast which you can order. There’s corn, milk, cheese and a selection of fruit too. They also serve protein powders you can mix with water that gives you the same nutrition value.” “It’s not like...that stuff you gave me, right?” “You mean pemmican? No, it’s better. Or at least I hope so.” He smiles. “Everyone has the same food. Sometimes during celebrations though, they serve different things.” “There’s not much privacy, is there?” Seokjin follows your line of sight to the glass buildings where you’re able to see the people working on each floor. “I guess not. I’ve never really thought about it.” You suppose it’s something to get used to. “Are...people staring at me, Jin?” “Don’t mind it. It’s not everyday we get a new face around here.” Right as he says that, you lift your head to discover your face plastered on one of the screens at the top of the building as if you were a wanted criminal. Seokjin laughs. “News spreads fast around here.” “I bet it does,” you mutter, a bit unnerved. “It’s a nice place if you follow the rules, trust me.” “What happens if someone breaks a rule?” “Well, there’s a focus on restorative justice for small crimes. So people often do community service or talk to victims or the people they affected and try their best to fix their mistakes.” “What about big crimes? Like if you killed someone.” Yet, Seokjin stays silent for a moment. “They disappear.” Your brows furrow, not sure what he means. But he doesn’t elaborate and you don’t push for an answer, uncertain that you want to know more. Arcadia isn’t as you expected it to be. When Seokjin told you stories, part of you anticipated it being lesser and merely blown up in proportion through his evident love of this place. You had predicted a community ridden with suspicion, like many of the sanctuaries you had been to before they inevitably collapsed. Leaders suppressing their people. Scarcity in resources. Another part of you expected an otherworldly universe, full of gibberish and things you didn’t understand. Much like the technology he carried with him or the shuttle that crashed in the forest. But what is presented in front of you is a sort of familiarity in a changed background. People like you know them, except courteous and independent. “This is my housing unit.” It’s a blinding white, two stories with the top floor off center and extended off the right side. It looks like two boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other with giant pane glass windows at the front. “It’s not much but it’s my home.” You nod as your eyes drift to his lawn — a tiny patch of grass that surrounds the path leading up to the front door. As if entranced, you launch forward towards it. But it feels different underneath your feet, past the soles of your shoes. The soil isn’t soft. There aren’t any lumps, no grip when you try to root yourself into it. Seokjin notices your reaction. “It’s artificial grass.” “What does that mean?” “It’s fake.” “Fake? You can’t get real grass?” “Guess not.” The interior of his home is less white than all of Arcadia. There are mismatched cushions, wooden tables and bookshelves, fake yellow flowers on his marble kitchen counter, paintings of oceans and cities placed on the wall next to photographs of himself growing up. You glance over the knick-knacks lining the shelves, snow globes and postcards, tiny things you’ve always seen lying around shops in the decaying towns, but never paid much attention to. “Sorry. It’s a bit messy.” “No, I like it.” He shows you to your room, an empty one down the hall. It’s much less decorated than his living space and he quickly excuses himself to tumble back in with heavier blankets and proper pillows. “Had I known you were coming, I would’ve had everything already set up!” “I don’t think any of us knew I would be here.” He laughs. “That’s true.” You walk to the window, taking a peek outside to the white city that towers over and covers the blue sky, the tiny patches of grass that alleviates the brightness of Arcadia, the flying shuttles hovering past the paved paths. “You’re probably tired, right? Do you want to rest a bit? I have a few things to do, so…” “You don’t have to worry about me, Jin. I can take care of myself. Probably.” Seokjin ends up shutting the door after promising he won’t take long. But it’s the first time in hours that there’s finally silence. And you allow the quietness to simmer down on you as you take a seat on the edge of the soft bed that sinks underneath your weight. You stare at the sheets, the white walls and floor, the luminescent sunlight streaming through the windows. You’re not sure how you feel. … .. . You stare down at your slab of white meat, so white that you wonder if everything in Arcadia is dyed in this blinding shade. It’s something you might have to ask Jin, even if it’s a bit ridiculous. You’re just not used to having meat that isn’t charged by the flames of a bonfire. But still, you tear it with your fingers and when you bring it to your mouth, it tastes dry and heavy — like it’s fake. “This isn’t very good, is it?” “It isn’t?” Jin blinks and you lift your head. Immediately, your eyes connect to a stranger who instantly turns away and it occurs to you that people are watching. “Don’t worry. It’s because you’re not using utensils. Here.” He hands you a metal stick with three prongs at the end and another one that’s rounded. Understandably, it’s awkward in your hold, hurts in your grip. It goes silent as you fumble with it. The chicken breast almost flies off your metal tray. “It’s okay.” He smiles at your visible frustration and reaches over to slice it with a knife. Jin gently takes your hand holding the fork and pierces the piece. “Like this, see? Not too bad, right?” “It would be easier with my hands.” He agrees, “It would be.” “Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A familiar red-head comes prancing up to the table and steals a seat next to you. “I’m Lizzy. We met on the Xanadu Shuttle, remember? I was the one telling you all about the history of Arcadia?” “Yes, I do.” “This is Namjoon. He’s one of our robotics engineers,” she introduces a gawky, strapping male with framed glasses. He takes a seat next to Seokjin. “A pleasure to be of your acquaintance. I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the past two hours or so. I am friends with Hoseok. He doesn’t indulge me in much information, he told me he received a great person of interest in his office. I believe that person may be you—” Seokjin interrupts his ramble, “Namjoon.” “Don’t mind him,” Lizzy laughs, ignoring the two men as she leans over the table to intrude into your personal space. “How are you getting settled in? Everything okay?” “Yeah. I’d say everything’s okay.” “I heard you were living with Jin now. Tell me, is he as messy at home as he is at work?” “I am not messy,” he protests. “Only a little,” you divulge her with a small smile. Namjoon smiles. “I heard you crashed. Glad to see you’re still alive and well.” “Thanks.” Seokjin’s eyes roll as his voice drips of sarcasm. “I’m sorry you couldn’t use my body for your next humanoid robotic experiment.” “Not now, but in due time,” the other man teases then turns to you. “It’s a shame you’re partnered with Seokjin. He can be quite clumsy and forgetful. You’ll end up becoming his handyman like I am.” “His first time he got into a Xanadu Craft, he broke the console,” Lizzy tells, making your mouth upturn. Namjoon swallows down his food before asking, “If I may be intrusive, Y/N, is it really true that you were alone? In the forest, I mean.” “I...was.” “How long were you alone for?” “I’m not sure. I think maybe two years.” “And before that?” “I...uh...traveled around and met different people.” He leans forward. “And what happened to those people?” “Well, some...passed away and others went somewhere else.” “What did they pass away from?” There’s a loud scraping of a chair against the tiled floor, grating to your ears. “I’m stuffed. Aren’t you, Y/N? I think we should head back now. Sorry, Joon, Lizzy. Might have to cut your questions short there. Maybe you can ask more next time.” “Oh, alright then.” They bid you farewell and Lizzy waves with a smile. As you exit, you look at Seokjin. “Thank you.” He saved you from answering, from bringing up memories you had no intentions of returning to. Yet he smiles and then looks away, feigning ignorance. “For what?” … .. . They’re wrong. It’s not a shame at all to be with Jin at all. If anything, you think you’re quite fortunate. Ever since you’ve met him, he’s proven himself time and time again to be thoughtful and considerate — traits that you thought were gone in this era. But it’s him who makes it easier to deal with these changes, to enter into this new world. … .. . “I thought you were gone,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You’re laying on his lawn in the middle of the night in bare feet. “I knocked on your door and then searched my whole house.” “Where did you think I was?” “I don’t know.” Seokjin plops down on his artificial grass, stretching out his body and laying beside you like all those times before. “I was worried. I thought something happened to you.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” “I couldn’t sleep.” It’s quiet as the pair of you look to the sky with your hands folded on top of your stomachs. The lamp posts nearby casted warm glows on your visages. The warm breeze making his cheeks rosy. Yet, none of you can see the stars — not with the light pollution of Arcadia, not when all the buildings were towering so high and covering it, not like out there in the middle of the forest. “Remember when we were in the forest, Jin?” “I do. I remember that one time, you didn’t completely put out the fire and my pants almost set on fire.” You giggle and Jin relishes in the sound. “I apologized for that and who told you to sit so close to that spot?” “Hey, I just wanted to be next to you.” You remember the nights when you were able to drift off while staring at the horizon and how you were awoken by the first blush of dawn, sunlight coming through the trees. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long time before you have an experience like that again. It’s going to be a long, long time. If ever again. “I feel homesick,” you whisper, finally being able to pinpoint your emotions and it’s the most honest you’ve been since you arrived. “I don’t want to be paired up with anyone or have kids.” Jin reaches out and you feel his hand against the back of yours. He holds it, clasping it tight. You shift and your eyes meet. “Don’t worry. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” You trust him. … .. . “If you want, we don’t have to eat in the dining center anymore. We can eat at home.” The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is that allowed?” “I’ll find a way around it,” Jin promises. … .. . “Please, Hoseok.” “You know that’s not how the system works. There’s not much I can do anyway.” “But you can put in your recommendation.” He’s silent in contemplation. “She’s compatible with you, but more so compatible with others. Plus, she’d assimilate better with someone stricter.” “I want to protect her. She’s my responsibility. Pair her with me.” Seokjin won’t let you be paired up with someone else in a family unit, expected to stay together and have children. He’ll keep his promise to you and be with you until the end — it’s also his selfish wish to be with you. The other man sighs. “I’ll make a note of it, but I can’t promise anything.” … .. . You’re unfamiliar with the devices at hand — the kitchen appliances with automated voices that speak when you come close, the machines with tens of buttons you can’t read. They’re all things you once overlooked when you scrambled for remaining supplies. “Is everything okay?” “I’m trying to heat this up. You said I could use it, right?” “Yeah. Here.” Seokjin comes behind you and takes your hand, guiding you where to press. “Click this button and then this one.” You don’t understand technology at all. Even the television is odd, an overload on your senses. “What do you think?” he asks, watching your reaction in amusement and how your eyes are as wide as the screen flashing against your face. “It’s...a lot to take in.” “That’s okay. Do you want to go outside instead? We can, if you want to.” You glance out the window. “I’m fine here. I’m not used to there being so many people.” “How about we work on some more worksheets?” “Again?” Jin laughs and the sound is tinkling. “You have to learn eventually. Come on.” He pulls you up and is happy to sit next to you at his kitchen table to teach you how to hold a pencil, how to write each letter and answer your questions. You’re a fast learner. Today your strokes are smoother and you learn how to spell his name. … .. . Seokjin often knocks on your door before going to bed to bid you goodnight. Yet he seldomly finds you there, where you’re supposed to be. He wonders if you’re outside on his lawn again, but instead, he discovers you standing in his living room. You’re gazing out the window quietly with an unreadable expression. “Is there something wrong?” You turn around with a small smile. “I’m just a little homesick.” He joins you, staring out at the city and the lampposts lined on the paved paths. “How do we go outside, Jin? Not just outside, but beyond the dome.” To the forest again. “Most people aren’t allowed outside because it’s dangerous. You would need to have my job or something similar, and that’s after you graduate from a three year program and pass several exams.” It’s quiet and neither of you look at one another or speak when you reach over, discreetly taking his hand into yours. Seokjin laces his fingers through yours and squeezes. He’s the only reason you can starve off the longing sewed uncomfortably in your chest. ... .. . In the following days, he receives a notification. The leaders are interested in you as a newcomer and extended an invitation to the party. So he helps you pick an appropriate outfit and the two of you enter with your hand looped around his arm as he reassures you. “You must be Y/N!” The strangers, leaders of Arcadia, welcome you with tall bubbling glasses, one of which that you receive from a waiter. It tastes disgusting, but you try to not let it show on your face. “It’s good to see that you’re getting yourself accustomed to Arcadia. I see you’re with your future partner this evening.” The man laughs boisterously while you exchange expressions with Seokjin. “That’s supposed to be a secret,” the woman beside him chides. “Right, right. The postings of the new family units go up on Friday. My apologies for ruining the surprise, but I assume it is a happy one.” You look up at him, gazing meeting Seokjin’s at once. The relief is overwhelming and what follows is a kind of excitement. Part of the weight lifted off your shoulders and Jin smiles tenderly. He leans in close, whispering in your ear so you’re the only one who hears— “You shouldn’t look at me like that in a place like this or I might just do something about it in front of all these people.” It’s bold. Unexpected but you know with the heat that rises into your face, it isn’t unwelcome. “Y/N, is it?” The intimate moment is intercepted by other individuals approaching in blue attire, form fitting dress simple and modest. “You must be the newcomer! I’ve heard so much about you.” “Yes, how has your transition been? Are you finding everything accommodating?” You hope they don’t come close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks. “Yes. Arcadia has been very welcoming to me.” They smile. “It’s so fortunate you can understand us and we don’t have to use those translating devices.” “You were alone, correct?” another asks. “How did you fare in the wild like that? How did you manage to even eat?” “I trapped animals like rabbits and squirrels and roasted them over fires.” Laughter is suddenly roused all around you. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do such a primitive thing anymore?” “What I’m curious about is how you’re still alive without any radiation poisoning.” “I used a radon detector. It was given to me a long time ago by an older woman who was with me. She died.” Automatic silence sweeps through the crowd. You clear your throat. “But I used it when I traveled through the cities.” “I see.” Some are fascinated while others aren’t. “How preserved are these old cities?” “Most buildings are still relatively in-tact. There are abandoned cars and buses too, but they’re useless without fuel and everything’s been raided, so there’s not much left. It’s one of the reasons I started to live in the forest.” “Poor thing,” someone sympathizes, “Someone should’ve rescued you sooner. You wouldn’t have to suffer so much.” “I didn’t suffer.” They’re taken aback, clearing their throats and moving on from the subject. A man directs to the refreshment table — all the while Jin pulls you closer to him and away from the prying eyes of Arcadia. … .. . Later on in the evening when Seokjin’s gone to relieve himself, you meet an old man seated alone at the table. “I was outside too,” he croaks. “Until two years ago.” Your eyes find his — past the wrinkles are bright irises — and you remain silent. “Many things happened that the people here would never understand. But my biggest regret is coming here willingly. Arcadia offers many things,” he says, “it has everything but one.” “Freedom.” … .. . The words stick to you. Like flies to honey. Or the magnets on Jin’s fridge. They don’t cease from your mind — a plague that spreads, a pollutant that you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try. Jin worries about you, but he doesn’t ask. He knows every time he does, you’ll reassure him that you’re fine. So one night, he takes your hand and shows you to his television. “Put this on.” He hands you a black, heavy device and smiles at your visible reluctance. “Trust me.” You slip it on top of your head and it sits comfortably over your eyes, obstructing your vision in complete darkness. Headphones are put over your ears and you discover both of your senses of sight and sound are completely disabled. “What are you doin—” The words die upon your tongue the moment the machine flickers on. There are chickadees chirping and woodpeckers digging against the bark. The sound of insects flapping their wings in the beating sun and the whistling wind intensifies. You see the forest, a forest. Canopies of spruce, walnut, and alder cascading light to the verdant floor overgrown in shrubbery. A cry chokes in your throat, but then it bubbles into laughter instead. You jump up and down. “I see it. I see it!” You whirl around, looking in each direction. To the blue horizon and the sound of the rustling leaves. Your home. But when you take it off, it’s all gone. You’re shrouded in darkness with Seokjin’s features barely discernible. You’re trapped in the very utopia you had followed him to. And you cry. For the first time in his presence, for the first time in a long while, sobs break through your frame at what you’ve lost — what you’ve traded in, what you’ve given up. Jin embraces you, arms wrapped around your frame, trying his best to keep you whole. “I want to go back.” … .. . Jin makes it easier to be in Arcadia. He gives you reason to become accustomed to it. He makes you wish you wanted to stay. But he’s not enough to dissipate your constant wistfulness. He isn’t the solution to your plaguing dilemmas, but you’re glad he doesn’t have to bear that burden. You wouldn’t want Jin to harbour the hardship of being your fix. … .. . It’s in the dead of the night that Seokjin comes out of his room and finds you. In the dark, you’re seated on the floor with your knees folded to your chest and the virtual reality headset slipped on top of your head, over your eyes and ears. You’re taking it all in. The orchestral songs of nature, the birds and leaves, the swaying of the grass and flourishing shrubs, bathing in the warm sunlight you cannot feel. He sees you, but doesn’t say anything, merely turning away. At same time, you feel the presence of another and slip the device in time to catch his retreating backside. “Jin,” you call out for him, knowing you’ve been caught. He hums, turning around and the two of you look at one another. “I’m sorry.” The dark-haired man smiles tenderly. “It’s me who should apologize. I’m the one who brought you here selfishly.” “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who agreed to some and I’m...the one having trouble adjusting.” “That’s not it. The problem is you’re not where you should be. Home. Not my home. Not Arcadia. But your home. “ You stand and he meets you halfway. You press your face to his shoulder and he embraces you. “I’ll help you go back,” Seokjin murmurs against your hair. “I thought you would be happy here, but I don’t want to keep you against your will.” “Come with me.” “You know I can’t,” he whispers in spite of your soft-spoken plea. “I have a life here. Like how you can’t leave yours. Arcadia is my home. It always will be.” You hold him closer, shutting your eyes to savour the moment. “Won’t you get into trouble?” “I’ll find some way.” The corner of his mouth turns. “I always end up fine. You will too.” … .. . The year’s posting goes up and just as the man had said, you and Seokjin are paired together. The two of you hold hands as you look at it, taking your time to read it over. It’s slow, but you understand nonetheless. You’re congratulated by those around him, people you recognize and friends you have yet to know. It’s fortunate it worked out that way, but it’s still bittersweet, knowing of your upcoming departure. And that same night, five hours past twelve, Jin takes you across Arcadia. The white shuttle is ready when you arrive in the dark and you scarcely recognize its scratched paint and dented surface. It’s the same one that he crashed in, the one that took him to you. “I programmed the path back. It’ll go automatically without you needing to drive it. And once you close the door, it’ll come back on its own. I’ll erase the data’s history. Take this.” Seokjin gently places the sling of a heavy bag on your shoulder. “There are clothes in here, blankets, medicine, a first aid kit, some canned food and seeds of new plants you don’t have. It should help you out.” Tears threaten to spill from your lash line. “Jin. Wait.” Hope blooms within him, wondering if you’ve changed your mind, that you want to stay. But he knows having such selfish desires won’t help him, so he puts them away. Just for a moment. He tries his best not to hang onto you, to hold you down. “It was because of you that I could even cope so well. You made it so much easier for me. I...I…” But Jin lets his greed slip. He closes the distance and kisses you senseless. The man swallows your soft gasp and comes to cradle the back of your neck as you ease into him. You relish in the gentle touch, his tender affections and taste one another’s lips. It’s bittersweet, yet he pulls away with a faint smile. “You should get in.” You nod, pulling away from him. Everything the two of you wanted to say has already translated through the kiss. Still, you take every moment you can and look to him. “Thank you, Jin.” The doors whir as it closes. He gazes at you till the very last second, till it shuts. The thin whistle diminuendos as it lifts into the air. He watches the shuttle fade from sight and when the sun lifts at the first blush of dawn, what’s left is a streak of white in the sky.

The world is limitless. You have learned of such a fact at a young age, traveling from desserts to mountains, finding all the hiding places and safe spots that others had claimed no longer existed. But they did and you’ve sought refuge in this forest, found a home amongst the rustling foliage and canopies ruled by spruce, walnut, and alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And without the presence of others, you could listen to the woodpeckers hammering against the wood, the wings of insects fluttering about. Everything was the way you left it. Unchanged from the time you left like it was waiting for you. It’s as if Arcadia and Seokjin was a fever dream. Except the mementos brought back with you reminds you otherwise. You dig into your bag, looking through what he’s given you, everything he picked out that he knew would help. But you discover something special at the very bottom. It’s a black, thick rectangular piece of plastic reminiscent of a walkie-talkie, synced up to only one other without a third in between. You hold the Erewhon device to your lips and press the side of the button. “Hello.” There’s a pause. “My name is Y/N.” Silence follows. But then there’s the sound of static and someone’s crystal clear voice. “Nice to meet you. I’m Seokjin.” A wide smile spreads into your cheeks.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #seokjin reader insert #seokjin x reader #jin reader insert #jin x reader #btsboulangerie #I don't really know if there's 50/50 fluff and angst #there's not really that much fluff and not that much angst in general #but I don't really know how to describe this fic any other way lol #so I went with 50 50 cause it is truly neutral #hope you enjoyed this piece!!

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

Follow up to this ❤️ special thanks to ul1tsa on ao3 for idea!

ao3

Warnings: talk Jesse and his bullshit & bombs

Michael waited a few weeks before he got drunk and lost that thing in his brain that kept him from doing dumb shit.

He went to the cabin and unlocked the door with his key. He didn't usually use keys, he had one in his brain, but there was something about having a key to Alex's place that felt special. Besides, he needed to make sure that's actually what it was. He pushed the door open and tried the light switches. The bulb on the porch was out. He'd need to get a new one.

He slowly navigated around the space, making a list of tiny things that were bothersome. He didn't even know if he was welcome here... But why else would Alex give him a key?

It was a two bedroom and had a bathroom that connected the two rooms. The kitchen was small and it didn't have a washing machine or dryer. The living room was old. None of it looked like Alex. What exactly would Alex's space even look like? He'd figure it out.

He went back outside to the wrap around porch, walking around it slowly and holding onto the rail. There were a few old boards that could stand being replaced. There was a window unit in each bedroom. He didn't figure it'd be too hard to change that for a central air system.

Michael went back inside and towards the kitchen. The refrigerator was unplugged, so he moved it to plug it back in. The cabinets were empty aside from some old canned beans and a single pan. He went back to the living room.

The couch was even more uncomfortable than he remembered, hard and a little dusty. He sat down anyway and rubbed his hand over it. When he laid down and breathed in, it didn't smell like Alex. It was unfair. Cruel, even.

He laid there anyway, lulling himself to sleep with the memory of Alex's skin.

It became a thing.

When his mind got chaotic and he needed something to do with his hands, he'd go to the cabin. He replaced boards, cleaned, hooked up a washing machine and dryer. After a couple months, he bought a comfier couch from an old lady who was selling it. He took down the hunting memoribillia and tried to find things that Alex might like. A couple trinkets bought during a trip to the nearby reservation, a painting bought from an artist who showed her work at the renaissance festival, and a hand-woven blanket from an older lady who traveled all the way from the Navajo Nation to sell the two she made a month at the market–and then vowed that he would never pay that much money for anything ever again.

He started spending more time there than he spent at his airstream and, after passing out on the couch after spending his entire day off trying to set up a central air system, he decided it might be worth buying food. So he did. He bought a few things, added three extra locks to the front and back doors, and brought his thrifted silverware and dishes from the airstream to set up a place for himself there.

It was slowly coming together. It felt like a home. He bought a broom.

He didn't tell Isobel or Max about any of this, they didn't need to know about Alex. Instead, Michael kept it to himself and spun lies about where he was whenever they asked questions. Usually they didn't. He was Michael, after all, it wasn't that odd for him to drop off the map.

He eventually started fixing up the bedrooms which were a little harder. It looked too much like a middle aged man stayed there and that was absolutely not the look he was going for. He got new bedspreads and sheets from a discount store and matching bedside tables from the dump that only needed some sanding and some finish to make nice. A new showerhead made out of things he found around the junkyard fit nice too. He played with the water heater until it stopped needing to be manually reset every 60 gallons, sanded and put finish on the dresser, built a new bed frame and headboard out of scrap wood, and fixed the janky doorknob of the closet. It looked livable now.

Alex's birthday came around and he didn't have a number to reach him, so Michael did something a little stupid and a little sentimental and found himself at a thrift store. He bought a set of two identical rocking chairs for the back porch. He almost threw them out three times, but he decided on leaving them there and just ignoring them until he stopped feeling like they were too much.

There was something about the cabin as it came together that both felt like home and like it was far too sacred to make a mess of. He kept it cleaner than he'd ever kept a place before. The dishes were always done, his dirty clothes always ended up in the laundry basket, never let himself get drunk enough that he'd be compelled to make a mess, and he swept and mopped every Sunday. His shampoo and body wash didn't leave rings in the bathtub.

It was nice.

It was about a year into renovating and six months into practically moving in when he found a broken telecision in the junkyard that someone had dropped.off. Curiosity got the best of him and he found himself trying to make it work in his free time. There was a strange sense of pride when he plugged it in and it turned on, the picture only slightly tinted blue and the sound as perfect as the speakers would allow. He wrapped it up in a couple blankets and loaded it into his truck, stopping by a thrift store on the way to the cabin to buy a few interesting DVDs for 50¢ a piece. He couldn't remember the last time he actively sat down to watch a movie for fun.

It took about thirty minutes to mount it above the fireplace, but eventually it was up and he found himself smiling as he put in a shitty mid-2000s straight-to-DVD teen movie. It played easily and he smiled wider. If there was one thing fixing up the cabin did, it was make him smile. It felt good to fix things up.

Michael grabbed a beer that was beside the leftovers in the fridge and settled on the couch, kicking his shoes off and pulling a blanket onto his lap. His phone was on the coffee table and charging with an alarm queued up to wake him up for work in the morning .It was the most normal he'd ever felt and he never wanted to give it back.

And it seemed like he wouldn't have to until the door creaked open.

Michael shot to his feet, standing like he was caught red handed as Alex stepped inside. He was still in uniform, a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. His eyes were wide with wonder, though, as he looked around at all the shit Michael had done. It was the first time he regretted it.

"I'm sorry," Michael blurred out, catching Alex's attention, "I should've asked. I shouldn't have changed shit and I shouldn't have stayed here, I'm sorry, I'll go."

"Guerin, relax," Alex said, smiling in a pure way that Michael hadn't seen since they were seventeen, "I knew you were staying here."

"You did?" Michael asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he said, carefully putting down the duffle bag and closing the door, "Electric bill?"

Michael's eyes widened. "Oh, fuck, I forgot about that, I'm so sorry."

"Guerin," Alex laughed, "Stop. I'm happy you're staying here. I don't mind, really."

Michael swallowed and tried to believe him when he said he was happy. Because Michael was happy. Happy to be here, happy to see Alex, happy to see where tonight led. He tapped his hands against his thighs as Alex took another look around.

"I didn't expect all this, though," Alex breathed.

"It's, uh, not all of it. I can show you around?" Michael offered awkward. Alex smiled wider and nodded.

So Michael gave him a tour of his own house. He showed him the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, and how the locks on the doors worked. Alex put the duffle bag in the closet and gently touched Michael's shirt that was hanging in there like he didn't believe it was actually there. Michael stood with his hands clasped behind his back and rocked up on his toes as Alex felt over the headboard he made and the blanket on the bed. He shook his head, looking over at Michael.

"I can't... I can't believe you did all of this," Alex said, looking at him. He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Michael," he cut him, laughing softly as he came closer. He touched his arm, his hand sliding up as he moved in closer and draped his arms around Michael's neck. Michael rested his hands on his hips. "I love it so much. But it's so much. How much did you spend? Let me pay you back."

"No, don't. Most of it's stuff I fixed from broken stuff or I got for super cheap, I barely spent $300 over the last year," he said. He purposefully left out what he spent on the more decorative things, those could simply be gifts from all the birthdays he missed.

"Still," Alex said, swallowing hard as he reached out and touched Michael's cheek. Michael leaned into it. He hadn't realized how successful he'd been at distracting himself from missing Alex until then. "This is all so nice. I-I don't even know what to say. I didn't expect this at all."

"I mean... I just didn't like that it looked like an angry old man lived here, I get enough of that with Sanders," Michael said. He was struggling to see what about the dumb little things made Alex emotional. In fact, they were selfish. He wanted to pretend Alex wasn't a million miles away. That was as selfish as it got. But Alex laughed and kissed him and Michael stopped feeling guilty.

"Thank you," Alex gushed against his lips, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Everything about this was completely contrary to Alex's last visit home. It wasn't confusing or blurry and he felt safe. He felt loved. He clung to Alex and kissed him hard, trying to quench the desperate, overwhelming feeling in his stomach.

"I gotta take a shower, I'm gross from that fucking plane and I need to be clean for the things I wanna do to you," Alex breathed, pulling away just a little. Michael nodded, going in for another kiss anyway. Alex giggled and leaned back. "It'll be quick, I promise."

"I worked all day, I need one too, so let me join?" Michael asked. Pleaded, really. He didn't want to let go.

"Good idea," Alex said, "Do you have a security system set up?"

"It's next on my list," Michael said honestly. Alex grinned, cupping his cheek in his hand and slowly starting to pull him to the bathroom.

"Good boy."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything and you know it."

Alex huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Michael loved seeing him like that. His hair was slightly past regulation, laying on his forehead and smashed against the pillow. After a long shower and stumbling into bed, they'd finally wore themselves out. Now they were in bed in Alex's house.

Their house.

Alex shifted to face him, face a little too serious consider the circumstances. Michael slowly faded to seriousness to fit it. Alex reached out, fingers grazing Michael's cheek and down his neck, over his shoulder, down to his torn up hand. Michael very quickly got serious and watched him pull his hand up to his lips.

"It's embarassing," Alex said.

"Since when have I been known to judge you?" Michael asked, stretching his leg out to wedge between Alex's. Alex parted his knees just enough to lock their legs together.

"I just... I've been thinking about my dad," Alex whispered.

"Uh oh," Michael said, trying to lighten the mood. Alex rolled his eyes.

"I've been trying to work through all my issues, I guess, since I realized you were staying here. I want this to work, you know?" Alex said and Michael was all ears, "And I think I didn't realize he was a bad guy until I saw him do this."

"What do you mean?" Michael said before he could process if that was a smart thing to ask.

"Like, I spent so many years thinking that my mom was the bad one because she left and at least my dad was there. It didn't matter if he beat me as long as he was there," Alex explained. Michael didn't really understand, but, with all the things they felt that overlapped, it was fine if he didn't understand that one thing. "And I... Even when I rebelled, I just wanted his approval. Part of me still does. I think I always will. Which is stupid because all the attention he gives me is solely on his terms, especially when it's positive."

"He's not worth it."

"I know," Alex said, smiling slightly before he kissed his hand again, "Logically, I know. But illogically... I'm still trying to remind myself he's a bad guy. It just took me so long to see it."

Michael didn't say anything, simply nodded and let Alex touch him as he needed to keep himself calm. Whatever kept him in bed, kept him in their space. He didn't know how long Alex was going to be home and he was too scared to ask, so he didn't.

"But, I'm trying," Alex sighed, looking at him in the eyes. He was so intense with every look and sometimes Michael felt compelled to look away, but not in moments like this. Never in moments like this. "I don't want to mess this up by trying to please him."

"I don't wanna fuck up either."

"I think we're on a good track, though," Alex smiled, tightening his legs and tugging Michael impossibly close. Just where he wanted to be. "Off topic, but I'm hungry."

Michael laughed softly and was incredibly thankful for a subject change. "I have leftover pasta in the fridge if you want that."

Alex smiled ridiculously wide for something as meaningless as day old pasta.

"Leftovers," Alex repeated in a whimsical tone, "You're gonna make a good little househusband."

"Shut the fuck up," Michael laughed, shoving his shoulder. Alex laughed right back and moved to get up. Michael followed suit without question. There was no way he was leaving his side.

"Let's eat."

Michael woke up to his alarm and an empty bed.

Panic struck him and he thought about calling out for Alex, but his voice wouldn't work as if subconsciously knowing the answer. Terrified, even. He slowly pushed himself out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans. Dread continued to pool in him as he tiptoed out of the room and into the empty living room. But it smelled like coffee which was definitely a good sign.

It took him only a few seconds to see that Alex was out on the back porch in one of the rocking chairs. His heart seemed to skip a beat or two or four. The sun hit his shirtless body perfectly and he seemed to fucking glow. Michael had to take a few deep breaths before he stepped outside.

""Morning," Alex hummed, looking over at him. His hair was still a mess, but he looked better rested than Michael had seen him in a long time.

"I thought you left," he said stupidly. Alex shook his head.

"I can't really sleep in anymore and I didn't wanna wake you up. Sorry if I scared you."

"It's okay," he said. And it really, really was. This was the perfect sight to see in the morning and it made him angry at Sanders for employing him. "I, uh, I have to go to work. I can call in, though."

"Don't," Alex said with a warm smile, "I'll be here when you get home."

Michael felt his whole body heat up at that. Home. Alex would be here. He wasn't sure he would actually believe it until he saw it.

"Yeah, uh," Michael said, clearing his throat, "How-how, like, how long are you..."

"Michael," Alex said, standing up and walking closer. Michael was going to melt if he kept saying his name. Alex kept his mug firmly in one hand and touched his cheek with the other. "I'm home for a month."

"A month," Michael breathed. Alex smiled and nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. It sounded like a short period of time, but it would be longest consecutive time they'd ever spent together. Ever. It sounded fake.

"So, go to work. I'm not going anywhere," he promised. It was hard to listen, but he did.

And you know what? Alex was home when he got there that afternoon.

"Where the fuxk are you living?"

"Airstream."

Michael spoke casually as Isobel stood by his feet as he worked on the car. He knew it was wrong to lie to her about something like this, but, fuck, he was barely sure this was real himself. He'd woken up to Alex for three whole weeks and he only had one left. He wasn't wasting that time and he wasn't bursting his domestic bubble.

"Stop lying to me! You haven't lived at the airstream for months now," Isobel argued, "You're never here at night and if I call you, it takes you for fucking ever to get to my house. Where are you staying?"

He sighed, trying to ignore her more and more. It didn't work very well as she stood her ground and basically decided she would follow him when he left work if he didn't tell her.

"It's a cabin outside of town, okay?" he caved, deciding on a half-truth. He didn't need to say it was Alex's.

"A cabin?" Isobel asked skeptically, "And you just haven't told me or shown me? What if something happens? I need to know where to find you, Michael."

"Fine, fine, okay?" he sighed, "Just, give me a week. It's a fucking wreck."

"You promise?" she asked. He nodded. "Good."

If he couldn't keep his home a secret, he could at least keep Alex to himself for a little while. He could deal with that later. In a week, his house would be empty. In a week, his bed would be empty.

He could deal with her then.

The bed was a lot of colder than he remembered.

January 30th, 2017 at 21:45.

Or, at least that's when Michael found out. The actual event happened on the 26th, a bombing injuring 30 Airmen and killing 3. There wasn't an article about it and he didn't receive a call. Instead, when he was stalking one of the mothers of a guy in Alex's group, he saw she posted about the bombing and saying her son was one of the lucky ones and thanking God. Michael nearly had a breakdown.

He spent the next hour calling Alex and when that didn't work, he started calling down a list of military hospitals. He found him eventually at Landstuhl and had to lie about being his brother to get him on the phone along with a warning about him being drugged up. But at least he was alive.

"Alex?" Michael whispered. Once again, he found him scared that Alex wouldn't answer. But he's spent an hour panicking and he wasn't about to just not talk.

"Huh?" Alex said, voice hoarse. Michael closed his eyes, bowing his head. It was small, but it was something.

"Hey," Michael croaked, doing his best not to cry. He wanted to go see him. He couldn't. It didn't work that way. As nice as it was when they pretended they didn't have a care in they world, they did have a care. His name was Jesse Manes. Not to mention the giant alien hole he hadn't even told Alex about... "You scared me."

"Sorry," Alex said. Michael breathed in deep.

"No, it's okay. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he whined, "I wanna see you "

Michael looked up, blinking away tears as quick as he could. It was difficult, but he managed it. He could cry later.

"I know, I wanna see you too. Maybe you can come home soon and I can," Michael suggested. Alex hummed a noncommittal tune. "So, uh, what all happened? Did you get, um, get burned or something?"

"A little," Alex said. Michael swallowed harshly. "Hey, you know what they did? They took my leg."

Michael's breath caught in his throat.

"What?"

"My leg," Alex repeated, that sort of dazed tone in his voice, "Couldn't save it, had to go."

Michael didn't know what to say. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to this. There wasn't a handbook. Instead of letting himself react like he was the one who lost something, he fed off of Alex's tone.

"How do you feel about that?" Michael asked. Alex hummed.

"My foot itched all day and there was nothing to scratch."

Michael huffed a laugh, rubbing the hell of his hand beneath his eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

"Well, if that's the worst of it, sounds like you're doing good."

"They gave me so many drugs," Alex told him, yawning halfway through. Michael smiled and nodded even though he couldn't see him. "I'm tired."

"Do you want me to let you go to sleep?" Michael asked. Alex didn't answer and that felt like an answer enough. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Mhm."

"I love you so much," Michael said. He didn't think about it, he just said it. It needed to be said.

"Mhm."

Michael huffed another laugh again, "Goodnight, Alex."

He ended the call and looked around the house that he'd spent over a year of his life renovating. He tried to picture Alex in it again, a version of Alex who might need accessibilities he didn't think of when he did things the first time around.

And now he had new projects.

Turns out it was pretty easy to widen doorways.

It took Michael about two days to widen one Interior door, ripping off the door frame and sawing through the wall itself. He widened them all from 30" to 38" in width and felt thankful that the exterior doors were all double doors. He didn't even know if Alex would be using a wheelchair, but it felt like a safe option regardless.

He ripped out the tub from the bathroom, replacing it with one with a little more traction on the bottom. He installed bars all around the bathroom and a wooden seat that was attached to the wall so it could fold up or down when he needed it.

Again, he found himself taking a lap around the porch to check for any loose boards or nails. He fixed any that even might've been questionable. It gave him the idea to add ramps beside the steps to the porch. He built them and jumped on them as hard as he could go make sure they didn't break.

It helped when he got angry–ngry at something, angry at nothing, angry at everything–to put things back together again. It made him feel useful even when phone calls consisted of Alex being short with him and hanging up. He was focusing on PT and learning how to use a prosthetic and Michael knew it was frustrating. He could hear it in his voice even when he refused to talk about it. He always refused to talk about it. Some days he refused to talk at all.

He refused to let it out distance between them.

On extra bad days, Michael would drink and Google random accessibility ideas. He knew Alex. As sweet as he thought his renovating for him was, he knew Alex would be too stubborn to ask him for help on anything. He wanted to make it so he didn't have to as much as possible. Open spaces, all but gluing the rug down, a bench at the foot of the bed, a chair in the bathroom, a stool with wheels in the kitchen, sanding down the sharp edges of the kitchen table, dumb shit that might help maybe once.

He was trying because Alex was trying. They still wanted to make this work.

And they were going to no matter what.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #rnm fic #my fic #verse: just one normal night

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waterbearwaltz · 3 years

Text

Assassins AU wip

So I've been thinking a lot about Southern Raiders Katara, and what her character would be like if she'd been raised to indulge that darkness. And then the thought "Kataang AU but they're assassins" made me laugh out loud in a meeting, and now here we are. But I've written like 10k words and am somehow still at the beginning? How do people write long things? What and how is plot? Ugh. Whatever. Have a chapter.

Aang’s eyes skimmed the crowd of Fire Nation nobles moving like a single organism under the ostentatious chandelier. Ozai’s parties were always tense affairs, an enjoyable night as likely as a gruesome public execution, but this one was especially anxious. The guard was double what Aang had seen on previous evenings. They weren’t just stationed at the doors but milling about the crowd, weapons on their hips, daring anyone to step out of line. Another bomb had gone off near parliament that week, and according to Aang’s sources Ozai’s paranoia was calling the shots even more than usual. This function was an expression of that more than anything else, a flimsy excuse to gather the most wealthy and powerful of his citizens and flex his muscles. Remind them of the closeness of his watch, the price of treason.

Aang’s eyes skated over the dance floor and paused. The dancing at these was without fail the most stilted he’d ever seen. He understood that in the Fire Nation, dancing was mostly ceremonial, a way to show respect for their host, an expression of patriotism made at gunpoint. It was the most stiff and joyless part of these stiff and joyless evenings. But this time Aang’s eyes caught on something new.

She was swaying in a sheer, dark red dress that he could just see the outlines of her body through. Thick dark hair swept up into a fashionable loose pile on her head, a few tendrils brushing her dark shoulders. No one thing about her was particularly out of place, other than being of obvious water tribe descent, a relative rarity in the capitol. But everything together caught him. It was the sway of her hips, he decided. The way she moved as if a part of the music, rather than shifting awkwardly alongside it like the other dancers. A fighter, certainly, from the lean definition of her bare back and shoulders. Aang wondered if she was one of the guards Ozai had hidden amongst the crowd. That would be odd, he thought he had files on all of them. And a woman from such far flung colonies would be a highly unusual choice for a palace assassin.

Tsungi horns blared, announcing the entrance of the ruling family, and Aang snapped his attention to the door, frowning at the unusual lapse in focus. The musicians fell silent and an abrupt stillness settled over the crowd. Attendants entered first, followed by yet another unit of guards. Aang wondered dryly if Ozai had ever considered the difference between displaying strength and paranoid weakness. A little shiver went through him as Ozai’s children entered. In studying this family he’d encountered all manner of atrocities, but something about the princess in particular unsettled him. He’d had the chance to observe her in person a handful of times now. Ozai’s heir was haughty and beautiful as always, but as her eyes swept too near to him and he had to concentrate on not tensing visibly. The monks had taught him that every life contains the same precious spark of humanity, and he’d never had cause to doubt this before seeing Azula up close for the first time, looking into her eyes, and seeing absolutely nothing staring back at him.

Ozai finally entered with a few military leaders and Aang’s body ticked into higher alert. He took a deep, stabilizing breath. He was as prepared for this as he’d ever be. Tonight was the result of years of carefully maneuvering himself into the capital’s moneyed elite. Everything was in place, every edge case planned for. If there was ever a chance to remove the dictator for good, it was tonight. He was ready.

Katara’s eyes tracked the commanders up the steps to the dias. She felt the familiar heat under her skin as she finally sized up her target in person, taking advantage of the whole room’s focus on him to take a first and only long look.

Ozai was older than he appeared in the propaganda plastered across every city, every textbook, every yuan. Their Glorious Leader. Her lip curled in disgust but she smoothed it into a tepid smile. He had a spray of gray across his temples, a sharp jaw, and deep set eyes hung with dark circles. His posture was slightly askew, probably a shoulder injury. She thought he favored his left leg, but wasn’t close enough to be sure. His expression was tense and he muttered sporadically to the man on his left. He was wearing a military style jacket in a deep red, plush looking material. She could tell from the way it sat against him that he had body armor underneath.

It was strange to finally see him in person, the man she’d spent her whole life training to kill. The corner of her mouth quirked up. She’d never been so ready for anything in her life.

Her dance partner slipped an arm around her waist as the music started back up. “A drink?” he asked. She smiled up at him and nodded, letting him guide her to the bar. It had been embarrassingly easy to get invited to this. After a ten minute conversation with Kazin at the university library she had her in. She’d had several backup plans of course, every piece of intel said getting here would be the hardest part. She rolled her eyes. White Lotus leadership had always had a penchant for dramatics.

Katara leaned against the bar and smiled at Kazin, half listening to him dribbling on about his father’s mining operation and half scanning the room over his shoulder. If security was this insane in the rest of the palace she’d have to rework some of her plans. Idiot militants. What the hell was blowing up a building half a block from a dummy parliament supposed to accomplish? If she ever saw Jet again she’d wring his stupid neck.

“Kazin, my darling, I didn’t know you were back in the city!” An older woman pressed a kiss to her date’s cheek and shot her a curious look. Katara automatically slid her face into a blank and amiable mask.

“Yes, school started last week. Auntie Azina, this is Zaia, from the northern colonies. She’s studying medicine at the university.”

“The northern colonies, how...exotic” the woman finished, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I didn’t know they were admitting colonials now. How times have changed.” Katara let the blankness seep deeper into her, enveloping herself in it the way Master Iroh had taught her. A lie cannot be detected if you make it your truth. Sweet, simple Zaia smiled wider and grasped the woman’s hand a touch too enthusiastically.

“Oh, it’s a dream come true, getting to study in the capital! I’m just so lucky to have been chosen.”

“Don’t be modest. Zaia was the top student at her university.” Kazin puffed up magnanimously. “Why wouldn’t we want the best minds of the colonies enriching our great civilization?”

“Hmm,” Azina had already lost interest in Katara and was scanning the room. “Ah! Ulan!”

A man in his 50s approached their group, kissing Azina lightly on the cheek. “This is my nephew, Zura’s son. Ulan was a dear friend of your father’s. Runs our shipping in the greater kingdom.” Kazin and Ulan exchanged pleasantries, Katara blissfully forgotten. Her attention caught on the quiet young man beside Ulan. She kept her eyes on the conversation, sizing up the newcomer in her periphery.

He was tall and lean, with dark hair shorn close to his scalp, sharp, elegant bone structure, and overly kind eyes that got her hackles up. She knew how to make her eyes kind too, and what sort of situations she did so in. A little too young and a little too handsome to sit right with her as a foreign shipping mogul. Maybe a rich kid working a cushy job for daddy’s company? There were certainly plenty of those in this city. He kept his eyes on the conversation as well, but something about his stance made her uneasy. The way he held himself felt...practiced. Maybe undercover security detail? No, that wasn’t right either. He wasn’t native Fire Nation, he couldn’t possibly work in the palace.

“Ah, how rude of me! This is my emissary from New Ozai City, Azan” Ulan said, gesturing to the young man. Cushy job with daddy after all. Kazin shook his hand as his Aunt flicked her eyes to the ceiling and pressed her lips into a thin line. Guess she didn’t like former colonials any more than current ones. A guard pressed close as he walked past the bar and Karara took a casual sip from her drink, slipping her arm through Kazin’s and angling her body slightly to keep him in view as he passed.

“And who is this lovely thing you have here.” Ulan drew closer than necessary and grinned down at her. He smelled like stale rice wine and the spicy fermented onions sitting in little bowls along the bar. Katara had a strong stomach, but it got a run for its money when he leaned in to kiss her cheek. When Kazin spoke up to introduce her she smiled and ducked her head as if overwhelmed by the attention rather than the smell.

“Charmed,” came a soft, deep voice on her left. Cushy Job Boy gave her a small bow and met her eyes directly, holding her gaze intently until she looked away. She really didn’t like that. She returned the bow with a warm smile and turned her attention back to her date.

“Another dance, Kazin?”

“If you insist, darling” he answered indulgently, as though speaking to a child. He steered her back to the dance floor, launching into a lecture on different types of mineral extractants as she noted the guards rotating their shifts around her.

When she saw the first stirrings of the next shift change, she excused herself to the restroom. Kazin barely acknowledged her, deep in conversation with an old general about iron ore. She couldn’t have dreamed up a better mark if she tried.

She’d spent weeks memorizing the palace layout and slipped quickly up a flight of stairs, down a hall, down two more flights, and into a servant’s wetroom near the back of the building. She swung herself up to a vent near the corner of the ceiling, bracing a foot against one wall and her shoulder against the other, and got to work on the screws holding the grate in place. Her ears pricked for the sound of footsteps, her hands made quick work of it with a tool from the small leather satchel that had been pressed between her breasts all night. When the last screw was loose, she dropped back to the floor, pulled her dress over her head, bundled it tightly around her waist, and swung herself smoothly into the air duct, pulling it shut behind her.

The vent was slightly smaller than she’d expected, and it was slow work making her way through. That was fine, she’d left herself plenty of time. The party hadn’t even begun to break up yet.

Much of the journey was directly up, and she inched one foot, then the other, then her back up the metal plates of the ventilation system. It wasn’t particularly taxing; she was in excellent shape and had practiced this a thousand times over the last few months. It would have been boring if not for the thrill of being so close to her target. She’d hunted men before, but it had always felt like preparation for this. None of them were half as thrilling, though she’d thought Yon Rha would have been. It should have been sweet to end the life of the man who had, in every way that counted, ended hers. But for some reason it wasn’t. Maybe he ruined it by begging. She’d been hoping for a good fight.

When she reached the top floor, she pulled herself into a smaller, auxiliary vent and made her way to Ozai’s chamber. It was even more important to be utterly silent now, as she could clearly hear the movements and conversations of the servants below her. Perspiration beaded on her skin as she moved, creeping like a crab in her thin pants and cropped undershirt. Finally, she peered through one of the grates and saw the interior of Ozai’s private chambers. She stretched out carefully so that her limbs wouldn’t fall asleep and settled in to wait.

Aang watched Ozai get drunker than usual before retiring from the ballroom. That might make his job easier. When the first waves of people began heading for the exits, he carefully lost Ulan and headed to meet his contact in a half-hidden alcove in the inner hall. Ishran was already there, a slight man with a sheen of sweat on his balding head and a great deal of tension in his shoulders. This was no trained agent. Not for the first time, Aang wondered what had made this man decide to risk so much. It wasn’t the sort of thing one asked.

Ishran gave Aang a curt nod and pressed his fingers into the wall behind him. A servant’s door swung open and they disappeared through it.

“There will be a three minute gap between guard shifts outside his quarters. I hope that is enough, it’s all I could manage.” Despite his shaky appearance, Ishran’s voice was sharp and even as they climbed the windowless staircase. Aang was impressed he’d been able to pull that off. He was assuming he’d have to operate in complete silence.

“That’s more than enough. You’ve outdone yourself.”

A soft hmph was his only response. After several minutes they came to a stop.

“I’ll make sure he’s asleep, then wave you through.” Aang nodded, Ishran was the only one of them who could possibly excuse his appearance if Ozai was awake.

Ishran squinted at Aang for a moment, before turning to the large, stone door.

When Ozai finally shuffled in, sweating and stinking of liquor. Katara wrinkled her nose. A drunk target was usually too easy to be fun, but for him she’d make an exception. She spent the first half hour Ozai was asleep going over the layout. A large, canopied bed dominated the majority of the chamber. Gold and red tapestries adorned the walls, embroidered with dragon-dense battle scenes, and an ornate desk sat between the bed and the balcony.

When Ozai had been still for half an hour or so, Katara lowered herself out feet first, dangling for a moment before dropping to the floor without so much as a whisper of fabric to give her away. She felt the adrenaline rise in her. She let it make her stronger, clearer.

Katara crept to the bed. Ozai was already on his stomach. How helpful. She slipped the garrote from her shirt and in a swift, clean motion, had him pinned. Her hands tightened the cord around his throat at the same moment her legs clamped his arms to his body and her ankles locked around his chest. He jerked in her grasp and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She’d placed the thin, woven wire with surgical precision, blocking not just air and blood, but preventing his throat from sliding into a position that could produce sound. He reared back against her and her back slammed into the wall with more force than she expected, his strength apparently untempered by age or alcohol. The wind was knocked from her, but her hold on him stayed true. He stumbled forward and slammed back again, this time catching her against the edge of the desk. A sharp snap like a whip being cracked split through the silent chamber. She gritted her teeth, pouring all her focus into her hold on him. The second time she hit the desk the snap was more of a wet crunch, and even through the haze of adrenaline she felt pain shattering down her side. He reared forward and thrashed again, but the movements were disorganized now, and she could tell he was losing consciousness. He fell to his knees and was just tipping forward as a soft creak snapped her head to a tapestry hanging on the far wall.

She was on him as soon as his hand slipped out to draw the fabric back from the hidden door. She took hold of the wrist and with a smooth pivot, pulled the intruder forward and swung around to slam her elbow into his windpipe. The last thing she needed was him calling for help. Still holding the wrist, she gave it a sharp twist, snapping it and getting a sharp rasp out of the man’s crushed throat as he doubled over in pain. A knee to the face and he was down. She was just turning back to Ozai’s prone form when a voice hissed from the darkness behind the tapestry..

Aang’s eyes darted from Ishran crumpled on the floor to the water tribe girl above him to Ozai’s empty bed. He was moving before he’d finished taking in the scene, not wanting to get pinned down in the narrow staircase.

“You,” she snarled as he lunged forward, putting his body between her and the servant on the floor. She dropped into a low stance and he swung down, hoping to sweep her legs out from under her. She was much smaller than him, he might be able to end this quickly. The chamber’s doors were shut, but she must have a way to signal the other guards.

She leapt easily over his attack and struck out with her heel as she fell. He caught it-- barely-- and shoved her hard. She flew back a few feet and hit the wall behind her, but was on him again by the time he regained his footing. Some remote part of him was impressed with her speed, but the majority of his mind was occupied dodging a flurry of strikes aimed at his head, neck, and chest. He jumped, twisted and lunged, always missing her hands and feet by millimeters. A sense of deja vu came over him and his mind flicked to the hours he’d spent in the training gates at the temple. The lesson was to be as a leaf, pivoting at every resistance, to pass through the storm. And she was very like a storm. When the flurry of blows began he hoped to tire her out before striking, but she wasn’t getting slower, wasn’t getting sloppy.

There was a subtle shift in her weight and saw her next strike coming. He sent a kick out to the side that would be left open by her attack. But she turned on a dime, ducking under his leg and catching his knee, sending him careening face-first towards the floor. He turned it into a roll and sprung up, but before his feet touched the floor he felt a bright shock of pain as she brought her elbow down on his solar plexus. He hit the ground hard, trying not to fight the muscle spasm, which would only prolong the seizing. She slipped a garrotte out of her shirt.

This guy was infuriating. She flew at him with everything she had and met only air. She didn’t recognize his form at all, but it certainly wasn’t Fire Nation. Their style was centered around brute force and bold, decisive strikes. It was a style she preferred in her opponents, especially larger ones. She could hurt them more by redirecting their strength than she could with her own. But this guy...this guy fought like it was a goddamn game of keep away. And she was running out of time.

Finally he struck out with his foot, and she used the energy of it to fling him down. While he recovered she managed to land a clean blow to his chest and he grunted and crumpled. She slid the garrote out, wishing for a quicker weapon, but the security at the palace was so tight this was all she’d been sure she could sneak in.

But he somehow recovered instantaneously. He flipped to his feet and circled away, putting himself between her and the door. They were on the far side of the bed now and his eyes fell on Ozai’s prone body. He froze and his eyes grew wide. Ever so slightly, his stance slipped.

“Is he dead?”

“He’s next in line after you,” she spat as she launched herself at him. He was distracted, unable to right his form in time. She feigned a direct hit then twisted in the air, vaulting off the wall and landing on his back.

“Wait” he rasped out, and she realized he’d managed to get a finger between her wire and his neck. Oh for fuck’s sake, would this guy just die already? She was debating just going with the slower, louder process of killing him like this when several things happened at once.

Ozai began to stir on the floor, coughing weakly and pushing himself up on his forearms. The main door to the chamber opened and a hesitant voice called out “Sir?” As she was taking all this in, the fake earth kingdom emissary grabbed her forearm and twisted roughly, ripping her off his back and over his head. The wall rushed up to meet her, enveloping her in a blinding flash of white.

The woman’s body slumped against the door she’d collided with. He hadn’t meant to throw her so hard, just needed time to reason with her, to explain. But now the guard was pushing the door back open and Ozai was stirring and before Aang knew what he was doing he’d scooped her unconscious body over his shoulder and slipped through the open window.

#kataang #kataang au #work in progress #avatar #avatar aang #katara #i dont want to post to ao3 till there's an end in sight #fanfic #atla fanfic

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amazingmsme · 4 years

Text

Dandelions Don’t Die

AN: It’s finally here! The much anticipated(on my part at least) vampire!jaskier fic! Buckle the fuck in cause it’s a whopper, I really wanted to make this all one fic, so it stands at 12,714 words! Wowza, I think this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever posted! Too long for me to read through & no beta, I apologize if there’s any mistakes

WARNINGS: Jaskier’s a vampire, so there’s a few mentions of blood if that sort of thing upsets you. He also kills a deer, but that’s over fairly quickly so you can skip over that if you need to.

As much as Jaskier wished it could last, he knew it couldn't. It would have to end eventually, with Geralt and Jaskier going their separate ways. He only wished it had ended on better terms. Instead they split at the mountainside, with harsh words thrown in his face. It hurt more than he ever thought it could. He had traveled back down the trail at a slow pace, matching his somber mind. He felt many things, more than he had in a long time. Anger, hurt, jealousy, guilt and sadness all swirled like a whirlpool in his head, turning his brain into a sloshing liquid that splashed against his skull with each step he took.

He needed to take his anger out on something, anything. He knew he could not feed on humans. Not only would he feel immensely bad about it, but it wouldn't be long until word spread of a vampire lurking about. And where a monster was, a certain witcher was bound to show up eventually. So he journeyed into the woods in search of an unfortunate creature.

Hunting always helped to clear his head. It had been hard to do on his travels with Geralt. He always had to find a way to slink off while the other man was busy and clean himself up before he noticed his companion was missing. At least he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. His chest ached at the thought.

Well Geralt would finally have what he wanted. To be alone. Truly alone, with only his horse to keep him company. As he thought about it, he began to miss Roach. He hadn't only grown fond of the brooding man, but his horse as well. Fuck, these next few years were going to suck. If he was lucky, he would be over this by the end of the decade. He hadn't been this down since he had first been turned. For 50 years he hasn't felt a steady beat in his chest, only the odd slow thump every five seconds or so. A stagnant muscle sitting in his chest just trying to resemble some semblance of normalcy.

He waited in the bushes, consumed by his misery. A twig snapped and he jerked his head up. He hoped beyond hope that Geralt had come to apologize, to take him up on his offer of escape, to invite him on his journeys. Instead he saw a buck enter the clearing before him. He licked his lips. He could smell the enticing scent of the deer's blood. It had been forever since he had had a real meal. He continued to eat human food to keep up appearances, but it did nothing to satisfy his hunger. It still tasted wonderful and he enjoyed the comfort, but his stomach and veins remained empty, longing for something more.

He pounced, and the poor animal didn't stand a chance. He let out a hum of relief as his teeth pierced through the pelt and flesh, sinking into the jugular. He sucked, not wanting to waste a drop. He felt himself grow stronger with each gulp. The blood was warm and thick, like syrup fresh from a tree. The satisfying tang of iron coated his mouth as he finished his feast. He wiped the remaining blood from his lips and continued on his way. To where, he did not know.

He wandered aimlessly from kingdom to kingdom, town to town. He was in every sense a lost soul. His songs were no longer jaunty tunes to sing along with, but emotional ballads that made the heart weep. People started to forget the bright eyed bard who sang the tales of the white wolf. He would hear others play them in taverns across the land, and it would always bring about a sad smile on his face. Those songs were popular, and good if he did say so himself. But they made him yearn for what once was. He couldn't have that anymore.

He heard whispers asking whatever happened to Jaskier, the bard who nobly followed Geralt of Rivia wherever he went. He sat alone in a booth, overhearing such a conversation. He himself wondered the same thing.

Everyone must die eventually, he thought to himself. He needed a fresh start, one not tied down to the ghosts of his past. It was commonplace for vampires to assume a new identity and create a fake death for their old persona. Now would be the perfect opportunity to plant the seed for his new life. He spoke up without turning to look at them.

"He died." There was a brief silence before they spoke up.

"Oh... that's a shame, he seemed like a good man. Talented too," the man in the booth behind him said. The woman at his arm chided in, "I suppose one of his journeys with the witcher didn't turn out so well."

"We'll never know I guess. At least the music will live on."

And with that, Jaskier was dead.

Word travels fast through a town, and faster by horse. It wouldn't be too long before Geralt would hear the news. Good, he wouldn't have to worry about running into him. What a mess that would be. He couldn't decide if it was bad that he hoped the man felt guilty. Make him feel as lousy as he does. He was always a little petty, and he saw no reason to change that.

He went by Amarant now. What can he say, he liked flowers. He still liked Jaskier much better, but he knew he would have to give up the name eventually. Perhaps in a hundred years or so he could take it up again. Surely Geralt will have forgotten him by then. If only he could be so lucky.

He still needed to change his appearance somehow. He had become slightly well known as the White Wolf's bard, and he didn't want to risk anyone recognizing him. The funny thing about vampires is that their appearance doesn't change... except for hair.

He really did have lovely hair. Thick and shiny and looking good in whatever style he chose. He decided to grow it out. Shoulder length was his limit, and he preferred to keep it slicked back away from his face, giving it a natural wind blown look. He also grew out some facial hair, keeping it well shaped into a handsome mustache and goatee.

He never stayed in one place for too long, always needing to find some way to fill the emptiness he felt inside, but never finding it. He enjoyed many nights with many strangers. And if most of them tended to be blonde and large in stature, well, he never mentioned it.

Amarant was making a name for himself as quite the hopeless romantic. He sang songs for the heartbroken, and lovers serenaded each other with his ballads. Even his peppier jaunts held a sad tale. He was currently between travels, resting in a poppy field as he wrote his newest song. The familiar weight of the lute sat against his chest as he strummed.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man of such beauty He wandered from place to place. In search of life and fulfillment But nothing could replace his lovers embrace.

Ooo he had a secret. His face was fair. He only travels by night and escapes from his lair.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so empty, The life faded out long ago. What a sad and weary soul Who will never grow old.

Ooo he's lost in the night. And he hides from the light, of the day. And if they knew what he was, they'd all turn away.

He liked it so far. The chords sounded right and the lyrics came from the heart. Those were his best ones. His quill dragged along the parchment in his journal, leaving black ink in spiraling letters. He continued.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so heartless. 'Twas ripped from his chest With hatred and scorn And now owns a barren breast.

Ooo a lost love can kill you With heartbreak and blade. Because a steak through the heart can kill any maid.

She was as lovely as ever, Skin pale as snow, and red lips of blood, She stole him away. A bleeding heart left to drain.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so broken, Who just went through the motions, of a pointless life.

Ooo he was doomed for infinity. Until someone sets him free, He will rest in a coffin bed.

A dead bard sings no songs. Dead men tell no tales, And dead witches can't cast spells.

Laaa la la laaa lala laaa lala la laaa I once knew a man so hollow. So desperate for love, he would follow. Tailing behind until the end of time.

He finished the ballad with a soft series of strums. It was short, but good. The song was just as much about him as it was about Geralt. He just hoped that people wouldn't tire of his melancholy tunes. Of course he would take requests for songs and wouldn't mind singing ones other bards had written. Wherever he went, he still received requests for the songs of the great witcher's travels. And he would sing them as his heart ached, remembering a better time.

~~~~

He wasn't the only one who longed for the comfort of the past. About two and a half years into his travels with Ciri, he heard word of Jaskier's death. They were having a quick meal in a tavern, and Geralt nursed his mug of ale, idly listening to whatever Ciri was rambling about, but not giving it too much thought. He was tired after killing the silkie that had been drowning children in the nearby river and let his mind wander.

His enhanced hearing was able to pick up a conversation from a nearby table. They seemed to be talking about the bard stood in the corner. He was singing Her Sweet Kiss. Geralt couldn't help but note that Jaskier was much more talented. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"He's butchering this song," the man said, staring at the musician with distaste. His friend nodded along.

"I know. Poor Jaskier's probably rolling in his grave."

That definitely caught his attention and his head whipped around to look. Ciri's brows furrowed with concern.

"Geralt are you-"

"Shh." He held his hand up to silence her as he listened more intently.

"It should be illegal to sing a deadman's song unless you can actually sing it."

"Cheers," the man agreed and clinked their glasses together. Geralt stood and made his way to their table. Ciri, not knowing where the situation was heading followed, ready to deescalate if need be.

"Sorry for for intruding but I couldn't help overhearing what you said about the bard, Jaskier." The men didn't seem to mind very much about his sudden appearance.

"Yeah, it's a real shame too. One of the most talented bards I've seen in my day." He looked Geralt up and down, as though just now taking him in. "Hold on a minute, you're that Witcher he was always singing about! Thought you'd be the first to know, seeing as well, y'know..." he trailed off, taking a drink from his glass.

"Mm. We parted ways some time ago. I hadn't seen him sense. Now I know why," he said gruffly. The two men shifted awkwardly, remorse clearly written on their faces.

"Well gee, I'm sorry you had to hear it from us."

"Hmm," he grunted, ready to turn away. Ciri stepped forward, asking, "How did he die?" Geralt shot her a warning look. One that she did not heed.

The first man shrugged, "Wish I could say, but no one knows. Not even sure if there's a grave."

"If there's no grave, is there a chance he could still be alive?" she asked.

"Ciri," Geralt's patience was wearing thin. With the news he just received, he was in a sour and rotten mood and just wanted to drink himself unconscious.

The other man tilted his head in thought, "I suppose so. Been hearing rumors of a traveling bard who looks strikingly similar. Apparently he sounds like him too. His songs aren't as upbeat though. More melancholy." Geralt nodded in thanks with another grunt, and grabbed Ciri to lead her back to their table.

He was even more silent than usual. Ciri began awkwardly, "I'm sorry about your friend." He didn't look at her. "Why did you two split up?" she asked, ever so curious.

"We had a fight, and I said things I shouldn't have." He stared into his empty pitcher, mind completely lost. He didn't know what to think or to feel. He needed to be numb. He waved at the bartender for another pint and nodded gratefully once he brought it to him.

"I'm sorry, I know how awful it can be when you're left on bad terms with someone close to you."

"Mmm."

"But I'm sure that despite whatever you said, he knew you still cared for him," she tried to comfort him.

"That's the thing," he said, tracing the grain of the table. "I don't think he did." He threw his head back, taking large gulps of the bitter liquid. He relished in the slight burn down his throat as his stomach began to feel warm. Ciri offered a sad smile and squeezed his hand from across the table. By the end of their meal, Geralt could barely walk straight, and Ciri had to hold him upright on their way to the inn they were currently residing.

~~~~

Amarant couldn't take it anymore. Constantly being on the road was too painful of a reminder of what he lost. Traveling was lonely, and he was not meant to be alone. Clearly that was more suiting for Geralt, seeing as how he made it clear how unwanted his company was. His feet were constantly sore, and he wanted nothing more than to find a place to settle down. Wherever it was needed to be remote. A place where he could still perform for people, but also have a decent meal without stirring suspicion of a vampire in the area. There had been too many close calls, a cow here, two or three sheep there, all drained of blood leaving angry farmers. He tried not to make a habit of feeding on livestock, but there were times when he was desperate and starving. And there were many nights spent with beautiful strangers that were all too tempting. The hot and fresh scent of blood hanging in the air after sex. He knew their veins were full; he could feel their pulse against his skin. The flush on their cheeks made them look as delicious as the ripest apple, just waiting for him to sink his teeth into it. But he always resisted the temptation.

Even after everything, he still felt the call of the sea. Everything about it just seemed so appealing. The seclusion, the serenity, the sirens... it was exactly what he needed. But traveling that far on foot would take ages. He needed a horse. He was a day out from the nearest town, he supposed he could start over and be there by noon tomorrow. He had enough coin saved up from playing to buy himself a descent mare.

He watched the sun's light fade out through the branches in the forest and decided to set up camp for now. He was still full from the badger he had drank from earlier, so he focused on building a fire.

It was funny: there were many things about vampires that he discovered were false, and others that held true. Sunlight: not a problem. Sure he'd grow a little more pink than normal if he stayed out too long, but that's what sleeves and hats were for. He could still see his reflection, thank the gods for that. He doesn't think he could live forever without seeing his own pretty face. Silver didn't burn all too badly, in fact the pain was almost nice. A satisfying sting that dug into his skin and left a small welt.

Then there were the things that were completely true. Garlic was awful. Vampires had an enhanced sense of smell and the potency of the vegetable damaged the sensitive nerves, and if it were to be consumed, it would act as a poison. So basically, he was allergic. Oh well he was never a big fan of it anyway. Vampires and werewolves really did hate each other. Enough said. Gods he hated those snarling fucks. He hasn't aged a day since his turning, and his skin grew paler. He definitely felt more lively at night, and his canines were sharper that the average human's. Despite all of this, no one has suspected him of being a vampire, to the best of his knowledge.

By now the sun had set, and the remaining orange of the sun's fleeting light melted into the purple of dusk. Between the leaves above him he watched as stars danced into view. The warmth of the fire kissed his chilled skin as he let his thoughts wonder. And just as always, his mind immediately went to Geralt.

They had just finished setting up camp for the night. Geralt had gotten a few deep gashes from the minotaur he had finished slaying, and sat silently as Jaskier patched him up. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to Jaskier's chastising words.

"You know bard, I would much prefer your singing than scolding right now."

Jaskier scoffed, "Oh would you now? That's a first." He held the needle in his hand close to the fire to sterilize it some before sewing the wounds shut. "Any requests?" he asked, his tongue poking out between his lips as he focused on threading the needle.

"Hmm. Maybe a new one?" he asked, watching as he brought the tool closer to his skin. Jaskier chuckled at that.

"Ohoho that's rich. Normally when I try to compose a new song you tell me to shut it."

"I'm not right now," Geralt stated. That made Jaskier pause in his movements, looking up to meet his eyes. They were still black from the potions having not wore off quite yet. He swallowed thickly.

"Right. Well then, I can, uh, come up with a new one," he said. He was still looking into his pitch dark eyes, feeling himself get lost. He was pulled back out when Geralt grunted and asked, "What?"

Jaskier cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just that, ah, your eyes look very nice right now," he admitted with a hint of a smile. Geralt tilted his head, a frown etching it's way onto his face.

"What?"

"Yeah, I can see my reflection perfectly. They've never looked more lovely," he recovered. When Geralt let out a snort of amusement, he let out an internal sigh of relief. He couldn't let himself slip up like that again. As he continued stitching him up, he started singing about his latest battle.

Geralt closed his eyes, listening to his voice raise through the air over the crackling of the fire. The dim glow illuminated his features and cast shadows under his jaw. Jaskier didn't dare let his gaze linger for too long.

"There, all better!" he chirped, standing up to stretch. Geralt examined the fresh scar stretching across his chest before he laid down in the soft grass.

"Look at the stars," he said. Jaskier tilted his head up to do so, letting out a soft gasp. They were absolutely beautiful. He had never seen so many of them, all twinkling and dazzling in the night. The sky itself was a swirling array of colors, full of royal blues and purples with a touch of light blue and green. "Come. Lay down, you deserve to rest." He did as he said, laying next to him. They simply laid there, looking up at the sky, content in saying nothing.

It was Jaskier who broke the silence. "Y'know, one day I bet you'll have a constellation up there." Geralt raised his eyebrows with a hum.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, all the greatest heroes and legends end up there eventually. And with all the monsters you've slain, there's no doubt in my mind you'll join them," he said honestly. Geralt was quiet, not knowing what to say to that. Another bout of silence had fallen over the two. This time, it was Geralt who interrupted the quiet, surprisingly.

"Have you ever considered making a song about the stars?" he asked.

"Uhh, no not really," Jaskier admitted. "But now I think I might."

Geralt turned to look at him, tearing his gaze away from the universe. "I'd like to hear it when you do." Jaskier's lips upturned into a breathless smile.

"Alright."

Amarant wiped away his tears at the memory. He reached for his lute, and began his star song. He let all of his emotions surge forth in a beautiful melody. A rustle from the brush startled him, and his hand stilled. His enhanced vision allowed him to peer into the dark, and he scanned for the source of the noise. He could barely make out the outline of a dark horse and relaxed. He went back to his singing, and the creature wandered closer. He smiled as he played, seeing as it enjoyed his music. He sucked in a sharp breath upon seeing it step into the light.

She was tall and stout, with a shining black coat that glistened in the firelight. Her mane was long and wavy, and her tail draped to the floor, looking as soft as spun silk. But what really drew his eye was the grayish blue horn atop her head that held a pearlescent glow.

His knowledge of unicorns was limited, but he knew they could be dangerous if spooked. They were incredibly loyal creatures once they formed a bond, but the chance of ever seeing one in person was incredibly low. He supposed they acted like a normal horse personality wise, but that was just speculation. He slowly set his lute on the ground. The unicorn tossed her head with a small whiny, pawing the ground with her hoof. He held his hands out in front of him in a cautious gesture.

"Easy girl." His footing was careful, bringing him closer to the beautiful creature while still keeping a respectable distance. "My aren't you gorgeous," he said in awe. She hesitated before closing the distance between them. He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief and brought his hand up to pet her head. "I-I can't believe this... What on earth did I do to possibly deserve being graced with your presence, hm?" he questioned. He got no response. "Perhaps my life is finally getting back on track."

After petting her for another minute or two, she shoved past him not so gently and stood by the log he had been sitting on. His lute was propped against it, and she dipped her head down to inspect it. He nervously made his way over, neither wanting to scare her away or harm his beloved instrument, and carefully picked it up.

"Ah, so you like my tunes. Perhaps you'll stick around," he mused, and got a soft neigh in agreement. He couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. "Say, what's your name? An animal as lovely as you deserves to have a beautiful name. How about Ember?" he asked. She let out a snort in apparent disgust. "Ok so that's a no... "Galaktyka?" He could tell he was closer that time by her silence, but still not quite there. He tried different names, getting varying degrees of disscontempt. He thought about how he was playing his star song when she appeared, and he lit up. "Gwiazda?"

She threw her head back, whinnying with excitement that rubbed off on him. "Gwiazda it is!" He settled in for the night, feeling much better than he had earlier. He wasn't sure if she would still be around by morning, but regardless it will have been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him.

He awoke in the morning to the feeling of soft nibbling at the back of his neck. He began to stir, a few tired giggles slipping out at the tickly feeling. His eyes fluttered open and met a pair of large blue ones. Before he could let himself be startled, be remembered the previous night.

"Good morning beautiful girl!" he greeted happily. She gave soft snort in reply and tried to press their foreheads together, causing Amarant to duck to avoid her horn. He chuckled and stroked the side of her head before standing up. "I don't suppose you plan on sticking around," he joked as he packed up his camp. There weren't many things to gather, so he was done rather quickly. He gave her one last pat before he went on his way. To his surprise, he wasn't alone.

"I'm just going to warn you now, I don't know what will happen if townspeople see you, but I can't imagine it would be good. And it's not like I can put a hat on you," he wondered aloud. She nipped at his sleeve to get his attention, and he watched in amazement as the horn vanished before his eyes. "Huh, problem solved. Now if you're going to come with me to the coast, which let's face it, you probably are, am I right? I'll need to buy a saddle and some feed. You're not too picky for plain oats, right?" The rest on the journey to the town was filled with more one sided conversations just like this. As was the rest of the journey to the sea.

~~~~

After about two weeks, they made it to the coast. Amarant sat atop Gwiazda as the vast expanse of blue stretched over the horizon. For the first time in forever it seems, things felt right. He leaned forward and patted her neck before pressing onward. Together they moved down the rocky cliff towards the shore until they reached the sand. The fine earth shifted beneath her heavy hooves, kicking up slightly with each step.

He took a deep breath through his nose, enjoying all of the fresh and earthy scents. Salt and dead fish mixed together to create an unpleasantly pleasant smell. The kind where you commented on how bad it is, only to take another whiff. He wondered to himself if he would enjoy fish blood as much as he enjoyed seafood. The tide pools were teeming with life, which would allow him to be able to feed whenever he needed. He would no longer have to worry about townsfolk catching him with their livestock.

Amarant dismounted Gwiazda, standing beside her as he took off his boots. He dug his feet a little into the sand, enjoying the feeling. It was soft and comforting. They walked closer to the water, watching the waves crash along the shore. Amarant purposefully walked so that his feet were in the water. The cool sea washed over his feet, sometimes up to his ankles, before retreating. The frothy foam barely had time to absorb into the sand before another wave brought forth more.

Ahead of him he spotted a cave at the bottom of a cliff, far enough away from the shore that it would remain dry during high tide. "I think we found our new home, girl," he said, patting her side. She tossed her head with a small neigh in agreement. After settling in and unloading his belonging into the cave, they went out to watch the setting sun. Amarant found a tide pool close by and sat on the edge. He kicked his feet gently in the water, dipping a hand in every once in a while and skimmed the top with his fingers. He watched the small ripples trailing after his hand, disturbing the peace.

Gwiazda was laying on the beach next to him, rolling in the sand. She was obviously enjoying herself as well. He watched as the fading light glistened on the water, spotting something in the distance. In a flash, it disappeared, followed by a splash. Who knows what it was, the ocean was full of creatures, and even more monsters. The sun was now resting on the horizon, beginning its journey to the unseen. Darkness would soon be upon them. That was when it was safest to hunt, and he was so very hungry.

A sudden voice startled him.

"You can't stay here." He jumped, turning to look at the owner of those words.

"Why? Is someone else living in that cave?" he asked.

"Well no-" she started, and he cut her off

"Then I see no reason to leave."

"You really shouldn't be here you know. It's not safe for sweet little boys so close to sea," she purred, propping herself up on her elbows at the edge of the tide pool.

Amarant scoffed, "Oh yeah, and what are you? An expert?"

She tilted her head in amused annoyance. "Considering I live here, yes I am." She raised herself up and sat on the edge of the rocks, putting her long shimmering tail on display. He couldn't help but stare.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you? Staring's rude." Amarant quickly tore his gaze away from her scales, only to find he had to tear them away from her bare chest. Not daring to look anywhere else, he locked eyes with her.

"My apologies, it's just- well, it's very beautiful." She gave a genuine smile before turning it into something more sly. More sinister.

"Why thank you," she said, and scooted closer. "We sirens are known for our beauty. Everything about us from our scales to our voices is exquisite. It makes it easier to lure our prey." She leaned in, "Does it scare you?"

"No." He easily held her gaze as she snarled, her spines sticking out of her back quivered.

"Why not? Do you not think that I could pull you under the water and keep you there until you drown?"

Amarant smirked, "I know you can, and I've no doubt that you've done it many times. But I've met many monsters. If anything, it's you who should be scared." She let out a laugh.

"What could you possibly do to me? I didn't see you unpack any weapons, and a human could never overpower a siren." She took a moment to look him over. "Especially not one who looks so... soft." She stroked a hand across his cheek as she spoke. Amarant put his hand atop hers.

"What makes you so sure I'm human?" This caught her attention, a spark of intrigue flashed across her pupils.

"If you're not human, what are you?"

Amarant figured, what the hell, it's been a while since he had a good night of fun. Not to mention he's never slept with a siren, and he very much wanted to change that. He gripped her arms, tugging her towards him a little roughly, but still playful enough to be flirty. She let out a giggly gasp as he growled and bared his sharp teeth.

"Guess." She stared at him with wide eyes before pulling him in, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. He returned it with the same amount of passion, gently guiding her down until they were both laying.

That night they spent it on the sand underneath the stars. The cool breeze brushed against their heated skin. She had transformed after crawling out of the water, and their legs were tangled together as she laid her head on his chest. His hand traced idle patterns on her back as he hummed. She looked down at him, "You're a singer?"

"Yes, and a good one if I say so myself. And I do," he joked. "Though I'm sure it's nothing compared to you."

She smiled, "Yes well, you're only human," she teased.

"I'm Amarant by the way," he said.

"Aquaria."

He looked into her bright blue eyes, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Amarant hoped this would be the first of many nights. Thankfully it was. They didn't put a label on what they had. It was a relationship based on sex and the occasional friendly conversation. She had told him what it was like underneath the waves, the beautiful cities and sea life, the terrifying depths and monsters. In return, he told her about his travels and about the people on land. He even told her about Geralt, from their meeting up until their unfortunate departure. Aquaria offered sympathy and comfort. They made quite a few songs together, though there were some notes that he just couldn't hit. She was a good friend, and he enjoyed her company. Sadly, not everything lasts forever.

They were sitting on a rock in the cave, braiding Gwiazda's mane and tail. The seasons were beginning to change now. The leaves were warm vibrant colors instead of the lush green of summer, and they were starting to fall to the ground. Aquaria looked out of the cave's mouth with a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong love? You need me to fetch you a pail of water?" Amarant asked. Sometimes she got too tired or cranky when she was out of the water for too long. She shook her head.

"Thank you, but no I'm fine. It's just, I'm going to have to go soon," she said. Her voice was low, a sad weight clinging to her words.

"Oh." His face fell just the slightest. He knew all along that this would happen, but he wished it wasn't so soon.

"The water's getting cold, and me and my choir are are heading south for the time being. I'm not sure we'll be coming back." She looked over and him, and he quickly dried his eyes from the forming tears.

"Yes well, I hope you have fun, it sounds like it's going to be lovely." She reached out a hand to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. "Don't be sad, it was fun while it lasted. And besides, a vampire and siren could never make it work. Not really." He chuckled and met her eyes.

"Maybe not, but it made a damn good song."

"Indeed it did. One of my favorites."

"It also seems to be one of the town's favorites too." They shared a sweet, chaste kiss. When their lips parted, she asked, "Can we sing it one last time?"

"Of course," he answered.

"When a monster of the night Leaves his cozy cave. After the light of day Slowly fades away.

When a creature from the deep Rises from the sea. Up upon the sand Out of waves she creeps.

Ooooh his teeth graze her scales, She tries to pull him under. Under the waves, With her siren song.

He fights the growing urge To plunge his fangs into her flesh. So he stops short of his quest And pauses in his feast.

Upon the beach they lay Next to a dim cave. A deadly love Destined to kill.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

People love hard, But monsters love harder. You better hide darling, Before you become a martyr.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

Because monsters hate hard But people hate harder. You better hide darling, Before you become a martyr.

Hurt by people And hurt by scorn. Hurt by witchers, Now they're left to mourn.

A forbidden enchanted love Of magic and monsters. A beautiful siren And her charming vampire."

It was their song, meant for each other. It was all true: no matter how compassionate a monster or beast could be, the villagers always wanted them dead. But as soon as you put something to music, they all suddenly changed their tune.

"You need to go out more. Meet other people and share your music."

"I do that," Amarant most definitely didn't whine. She placed a comforting hand on his chest.

"I know, but you barely leave the cave. It's not good for you."

"Need I remind you that the sun hurts?" he raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes fondly and pinched his cheek.

"I don't see you complaining about it when we go swimming."

"That's because we're together," he said. Her smile turned a bit sad.

"I'm sure we'll meet again. It's a small world after all, and I doubt you'll die anytime soon," she teased.

"True. But I'll miss you all the same."

"And I'll miss you too." They kissed once more. When they broke away, she reached behind her back for her bag. She put it in his hands, and there was a substantial weight to it. When he moved his hands he could hear the soft jingle of clinking metal.

"I want you to take this. Buy yourself that lyre you were talking about." He opened the satchel and gasped. It was full of gold coin, some still covered it moss and wrapped in seaweed.

"H-how..." he trailed off.

"There's quite a few shipwrecks, and you'd be surprised at just how much coin gets lost at sea."

He looked at her, love and adoration clear in his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he wrapped her in a warm hug. "Every time I play it, I'll think of you."

"You better hurry before the shops close," she said. He hopped up, bag still in hand.

"Yes, of course. Gwiazda!" he called, and she trotted over. She mounted her in one swift easy motion. He held out his hand to help Aquaria up, but she remained where she sat. She gave him a look. "Oh," he said in realization. This was goodbye.

"We both know it'll be easier this way," she admitted. He nodded, knowing it to be true but not liking it anymore than she did.

"'Til we meet again," he said.

"Until then," she sighed heavily. She rose up, walking over to him. He leant down to share one final kiss. He rode out of the cave and into town, knowing exactly where he needed to go to buy the instrument. He was lucky that the small ocean side town had such a place.

He returned to an empty cave.

It was sadistically humorous, he thought, how everyone he had truly cared for left him in some way.

~~~~

Geralt was dealing with a lot of emotions. Emotions a witcher shouldn't have, yet he felt all the same. He truly was heartbroken at hearing of his bard's passing. Yet he didn't want to believe it. He was feeling incredibly guilty and angry at himself for driving Jaskier away. He made sure that he would not make the same mistake with Ciri. He saw much of Jaskier in her, funny enough. The two loved to talk, rambling on about anything that crossed their minds. They were bright and cheery, and their smile could light up a room. It was even able to warm his once cold heart.

Now he was angrier, less willing to engage in conversation with Ciri. She definitely picked up on it. He could smell it on her; the concern, the sadness, the fear for his well being. He kept assuring her he was fine, but the fact that he was doing so just proved he wasn't.

He worked more often now, taking fewer and shorter breaks between jobs. Ciri told him to slow down, to pace himself. He told her he knew what he was doing and didn't need to be mothered. She just scoffed and told him it wouldn't be the worst thing if was. She definitely reminded him of Jaskier, and it hurt.

They were on their way to their next hunt when Ciri spoke up. "When are you going to admit you're not okay?" she questioned. His head whipped around to look at her.

"I'm fine," he insisted through clenched teeth.

"You clearly aren't though! I know witchers aren't good with emotions, but I also know he was your friend. It's not healthy to keep it all in like this," she said.

"Well it's worked for me before. And it will pass. In time," he added.

"You know as well as I do that that's not good."

"Hm." And that was the last he'd say on the subject. Until she would inevitably bring it up again. However their attention was preoccupied as they approached the nest of sirens that had been bothering seemingly everyone in the nearby town. Singing at all hours of the night, letting no one rest, and drawing a few people away from their families and into the water where they drowned.

They both shoved cotton in their ears to be protected from their songs. Geralt could easily spot the signs that they had taken root in the river and readied his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Witcher," came an unexpected noise from above. In the branches of a close tree, a siren laid wrapped in the entangled vines stretched across the limbs. Her large wings were spread out, basking in the sun the top of the canopy provided. "Me and my family have done nothing wrong."

Geralt slid his sword back into its hilt seeing that she was capable of reason. "The villagers seem to think otherwise." She had to laugh.

"Don't they always?"

"You've lured men and women down to the river to drown them," he deadpanned. She gasped in mock offense.

How rude to throw such accusations at me, I've done nothing of the sort!" There was a beat of silence in which Geralt looked extremely unamused. "Okay I can't say the same for the others, but it's what we're meant to do."

"What will it take to make you all leave without having to kill you?" he cut to the chase.

"Well I think just saying that will do the trick," she said, and both Geralt and Ciri could hear the tinge of fear in her voice. She flew back down to the water, propping her elbows on the bank. She rested her head in her hands, studying him. "You're Geralt, aren't you?" she asked. The questioned seemed to grab his attention.

"Yes. How did you know?" his voice was gruff one warning.

"I heard stories from a dear friend. He speaks quite fondly of you." She smirked to herself when she saw his entire frame stiffen as he took a step closer.

"What-" his voice was barely audible, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "What's his name?"

She studied him before deciding it was safe to talk. Amarant. Though it's not his true name, just what he chooses to go by," she explained. Geralt's heart leaped at the prospect of Jaskier still being alive.

"Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me." He bent down and shook her hand. "But you and your choir better find a new home before another witcher shows up and isn't as merciful," he warned. She nodded and swam off downstream.

Geralt and Ciri continued on their trek across the continent with a renewed vigor. Geralt began to talk a little more, and if you squinted hard enough it seemed as though there was the slightest pep in his step. He stopped acting rash and too bold on hunts, making more sensible moves and efficient kills. Just the faintest glimmer of hope had changed the man completely.

~~~~

Geralt wasn't the only one who had heard word of Jaskier's demise. Yennefer felt conflicted; while she was never close with the man and didn't particularly like him, she knew that he meant something to Geralt. And their bickering relationship full of teases and insults was a fun dynamic to play off of, and she was saddened to hear that he died so young. Humans were fragile beings and she would need to get used to hearing of the deaths of people she once knew.

She was gathering ingredients. Her inventory was growing low, and she needed to build up her stock. She had already been to the mountains and forests, gathering what she needed. Her tiresome journey had lead her to the coast. She would probably stay for a few more days to find what she needs and rest up in an inn.

She sat by herself at the tavern, enjoying her meal in peace. Music flowed through the room as people sang along with a bard in the corner, tossing their coin freely. She rolled her eyes, figuring it would be wiser for them to keep their money for their selves. Whoever was singing did sound good, she'd give them that, but people threw away their coin too easily. I mean, all they do is sing and pluck a few chords, it's not that hard. She tore off a piece of bread, popping it in her mouth to chew.

She finally raised her head, tearing her gaze away from her plate and scanned the room. People sat at tables, enjoying their meals while a crowd formed in front of a makeshift stage. She saw a flash of brown hair and blue eyes. She did a double take, squinting her eyes to peer above the crowd. A familiar lute sat in a chair near a corner, while the man swayed back and forth, strumming on a lyre. His song was sad and sweet, bringing a few patrons to tears. There was only one voice she knew that sounded like that.

Yennefer stood and worked her way through the people until she could see the man fully. Hair grown out to his shoulders, facial hair trimmed into a stylish goatee, and eyes as blue as the sky itself. He wore a flowing cream colored blouse with tights that hugged his body in all of the right places, and topped it all off with a purple hat. He looked different, but it was undoubtedly Jaskier.

He was singing a newer song, but one that she had heard all the same. People humming the tune from town to town, and a bard here or there performing it. She took her time to listen to the lyrics, and I mean really listen. Hearing each struck chord, processing the words and their meanings, watching his expression as he sang. She couldn't tell if the song was about himself or Geralt.

She saw him scan the small group, and it was easy for him to spot her. His nose scrunched you the slightest bit in disdain. She offered a small wave, and he nodded at her in acknowledgement, his hands too busy at the moment.

Towards the end of the song, he locked eyes with her, making sure she got the full brunt of his words as he belted, "A dead bard sings no songs. Dead men tell no tales, And dead witches can't cast spells." Okay, yeah, that one stung.

As he finished, everyone cheered, tossing their coin his way. He bowed, giving his thanks and blowing kisses to women and men alike. She called out trying to get his attention.

"Jaskier! Jaskier!"

His head immediately whipped around at the familiar name, knowing exactly who had said it. He feigned innocence.

"Yes, he was quite good. Perhaps one of the best in our time. This next song is dedicated to Jaskier!" The crowd practically roared their approval. He switched to his lute, putting the strap around his body. "How about O Gwiazda, eh? A star song for the man amongst the stars!"

Yennefer practically had to yell for her voice to be heard. "Why not one of his songs?" This seemed to be a popular idea as requests started flooding in.

He looked around nervously, tugging at his collar. "I-I'm sorry, I don't believe I can hit some of those notes," he started, only for her to interject.

"Nonsense! I think you'd sound just like him," she challenged. The smirk she wore could kill. Oh she was good.

Jaskier was quick though. "Now there's really no need to insult the dead," he joked, earning a few laughs. But as soon as she yelled the words "Fishmonger's Daughter," he knew he lost. Everyone joined her chant, asking him to play. Damnit, it was one of his most popular songs that no one could resist, not even himself. And so he performed. And he did so perfectly.

He weaved in and out of bodies as they all sang and clapped along. He sent a few winks, making a few ladies swoon. When he finished, he declared that he was parched and would take a break. He was lounging with a very giggly brunette when Yennefer approached him.

"Do you mind if I steal him for a second?" she asked. The girl raised a brow and looked her up and down.

"Depends. Do you plan on giving him back?"

"Yes," she assured. "I only wish to speak with him for a few minutes." The girl relented and let him go. She scooted off of his lap so he could stand.

"Don't worry love, I'll be back soon. She's just an old friend and we need to catch up."

"Don't leave me waiting too long," she said. He lead Yennefer outside of the door to make sure no one else was listening in on the conversation. As soon as the door closed, she started.

"You seem to have settled in quite nicely Jaskier," she said, putting emphasis on his name. He however, was persistent in his denial.

"That's not my name."

She tilted her head, "Oh? Then what is it?"

He rolled his eyes, "If you must know, I'm Amarant." He extended his hand for her to shake. "And you are?"

She looked down at his offered hand. "You already know." He chuckled, putting his arm down.

"I assure you I do not."

She sighed, figuring it would be easier to just play along. "Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"Ah yes! I've heard of you, and might I say that you are even more beautiful in person," he said with a flourish. He brought her delicate hand up to kiss it.

"Flattery will get you nowhere Jaskier."

"Look," he said, all charm leaving his voice. "I'm really not who you think I am. And I'm getting quite fed up with being mistaken for him. I'm my own person you know," he said pointedly.

"I would think you were too clever to believe I'd actually fall for that, yet here you continue to lie to my face," she stated. His mouth hung open a bit in shock.

"Okay what do you want you snake?" he hissed. She held her hands up in surrender.

"No need for names. I simply came here looking for ingredients, yet I found something better."

He glared at her, "I don't believe you."

"It's the truth," she said simply. There was a moment of silence before she continued. "Everyone thinks you're dead." Call him crazy, but he could swear he heard a touch of sadness in her voice.

"Good." He folded his arms over his chest, turning away. She touched his arm gently, prompting his to look at her.

"Why?" she asked. He scoffed.

"Must everything have a reason?" he pondered aloud. He turned to her fully. "I needed a fresh start," he said simply.

"I know there's more to it than that," she said.

"Oh there's lots more to it, but you have no right to be disclosed to that information!"

"I know it has something to do with Geralt."

He let out a high pitched, slightly manic laugh. "Oh do you now? Congratulations dear, you just scratched the surface!" He leaned in her face, making a show of clapping his hands in mock praise. "Do you want a medallion for your wit?"

She smacked his hands away, a small frown on her face.

"Not everything has to do with that boar headed idiot," he spat. She could tell she struck a nerve. His voice was full of hurt and hate, his eyes hardened, turning to ice, and his lips curled into a sneer.

"I know he hurt you," she said softly. He scoffed, "He did more than that. He broke my fucking heart."

Yennefer wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that surprised the both of them. She whispered in his ear, "If it makes you feel better, you did the same."

He pulls away, shooting her a quizzical look. "I highly doubt that. He got his wish, he's rid of me. The bastard should be jumping for joy," he stated plainly. She gave him a look that he couldn't quite read.

"He's not."

Jaskier couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. He knew it was probably wrong for him to be happy about that, but he had to admit it felt good. "Nice to know." He pulled her away, holding her at arms length. "Well this little reunion was quite nice, but I have company to entertain. It was lovely to see you again, really, but please leave and don't bother me again. I made a new life for a reason." He started to leave, pausing in the doorway and looked back at her. "Oh, and don't tell Geralt about all this. The last thing I want is to dig up that mess of a past. It's already hard enough to forget about him as it is," he mumbled the last part to himself as the door shut. She was still able to hear however. And one thing was for certain: she was not planning on keeping this to herself.

She had no idea where he was, or when she'd see him again. But she knew that fate would bring the two of them together once more.

~~~~

Ciri had grown into a beautiful and powerful young lady under Geralt's protective wing. She had learned well and came into her full power. The lion cub of Cintra was now a strong lioness. Five years had passed since their brush with the mysterious siren, and that had been the last they had heard any word of Jaskier. Until chance to happened that they came across an old friend in the woods.

"Yen!" Ciri exclaimed upon seeing her, and rushed over to hug her.

"My, look how you've grown!" Yennefer said, looking her up and down. She beamed brightly.

Geralt was slower, more calm in his approach. "It's nice to see you again," he said as he dismounted Roach.

"I can say the same," she said as she walked over to him, greeting him with a warm embrace. They set up camp together, Ciri and Yennefer gathering firewood while Geralt hunted for their dinner. They had a nice meal of rabbit stew, and caught up while they ate. It was getting darker each minute as the sun slipped farther under the horizon. Ciri had gone to bed as Geralt and Yennefer continued to talk over the diminishing fire.

It was far into the night, ensuring the girl was asleep. Roach stood tied to a nearby tree, not giving them much thought as she too drifted off. An owl hooted overhead. She took a deep breath. There was no easy way to put this, but he needed to know.

"I saw Jaskier."

He froze, his cat like eyes bore into her, deciding if she was telling the truth. "What?"

"When I was gathering ingredients from the coast I stopped in Low View. I went to the tavern where I saw Jaskier performing, but he wasn't Jaskier," she explained. She could see the gears beginning to turn in his brain. Finally he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

"I didn't know where you were, and it wasn't the right time." She subtly nodded over to Ciri's calm form. He only hummed.

"Thank you for telling me," he said.

"What're you going to do?" she asked, already knowing his answer.

"Ciri and I leave for Low View first thing tomorrow."

~~~~

It had been three years since Yennefer had been in the tavern. Amarant had first been on edge constantly, always expecting Geralt to walk through the doors. As time passed, that anxiety diminished. Perhaps she would do as Jaskier wished and simply not tell, but he highly doubted that. Or maybe she just hasn't run into Geralt. Or maybe Geralt just straight up did not care. Gods, do not let it be the third option.

Logically, he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. It was honestly inevitable, they had done it many times before and it always ended with Jaskier leaving with him, ready to compose some new songs for the White Wolf. Only this time it was different. Geralt didn't want him, and he certainly didn't like him, that much he made clear.

And still, despite his best interests, he hoped he would see him. Wished for it almost every day. To see that familiar face and hear his voice. Longing for what once was. And then he'd immediately turn back around, scolding himself for wanting such a thing. Reminding himself of the hurt he had brought on. Remembering the fact that he was a vampire, and if Geralt knew... He couldn't bring himself to picture such a thing. But he knew what would happen.

The door had been opening and closing all night with patrons coming and going. Amarant had already made a good bit of coin, and he was only really just getting started. He belted out into the small space, singing his heart out and laying his soul on the line.

He didn't know when exactly he felt a change in the air, but he couldn't deny the shift in energy. It didn't take him long until his eyes fell on Geralt. He'd know those broad shoulders and white hair anywhere. His gaze hardened into a glare from across the room. They made eye contact, and Jaskier could see the recognition on the other man's face. After all, facial hair could only do so much to change his appearance. Perfect timing too. He was in the middle of singing I Once Knew A Man, now aiming the song directly at him and adding a fierce bite to his words.

Geralt sighed and watched him, knowing Jaskier was not happy to see him. The song was undoubtedly a jab at him, and he could feel guilt boiling up from years passed. It had been quite a few years since their fight at the mountain top, and he had been kept busy with work and caring for Ciri. They had been on the road for years, and never once heard word of Jaskier. Sometimes he would forget, until they found themselves in yet another tavern with no sign of the joyous bard. He would hear a familiar tune that got his hopes up until he realized it wasn't him. Then the terrible guilt and grief of hearing of his friend's death. His only true friend. And he had ruined it.

And yet there he was, alive and well. He saw another instrument propped against a corner. He recalls Jaskier once mentioning wanting to play the lyre. Good for him. A decent crowd was formed around him, dancing and singing along. His skin seemed to glow under the candle light and he wore a blue shirt with a purple vest paired with a matching hat. His blue pants hugged him in all the right places, flattering his figure quite nicely. He had grown his hair out too, and Geralt had to admit it was a good look on him. His goatee was well kept and accentuated his jawline.

"Are you drooling?" Ciri asked from across the table, her nose scrunching slightly. Geralt immediately jerks his head away wipes at his mouth. When his hand remains dry he shoots the giggling princess a look of annoyance. "Well you might as well have!" she teased and he gently kicked her leg to tell her to stop. She just smiled and watched as Jaskier played. He continued straight into another song, this time a peppy love ballad. Geralt couldn't help the simmering jealousy bubbling in his gut.

Each time he got to the chorus, he glared directly at Geralt. Hurt by witchers... Geralt knew he had been cruel and unfair. He had every right to hate him, but he wished he wouldn't. At least, hate him less once he apologized. His medallion rest warm on his chest as it did every time Jaskier was near. His mouth formed beautiful words, his voice like silk slipping into the air. As he sang, Geralt could see the tips of his fangs peaking out from under his lips.

After some applause and the throwing of money, he rose up with a flourish.

"It seems like we have a special guest in the corner, everyone say hi! I think we should dedicate this next song to him, a little tune we all know and love!" Jaskier's eyes burned with mischief and anger. He knew Geralt hated attention more than just about anything. And Jaskier was nothing, if not petty.

"When a humble bard," he began walking forward as he started the song, and people cleared his path. He was walking straight to Geralt. The witcher kept his features neutral. "With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song."

Fuck.

As the first verse came, he took a sharp turn right before he reached their table and ducked into the crowd, making his way through the room.

"They came after me, with masterful deceit," he stood on a chair, one leg propped up on the back as he sang. "Broke down my lute and they kicked in my teeth!" In a swift graceful movement, he leaned forward and knocked the chair down, easily walking onto the ground. He continued to dance and pull people from their seats. He stopped in front of Ciri, making a show of inviting her to dance, which she eagerly accepted. The look on Geralt's face was priceless.

Of course Jaskier was up on the tables. Hopping from one to the other, taking his time to show off a bit. He had been waiting for this. He's a performer, and he wanted nothing more than to put on a show. The song was nearing its end, and he made his way to Geralt's table. He was there for the last verse. He stood above him while he sang, winking down at him. For a moment, Geralt thought things were good. That he would apologize and everything would go back to normal. But the smell of pent up rage, hurt and resentment told him otherwise.

"Toss a coin to your Witcher O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty, a-oh Toss a coin to your Witcher A friend of humanity," he finished off by kneeling down in front of Geralt. He made it a point to look in his eyes, to make sure he knew what he did and that he sure didn't need him.

Everyone cheered, and the sound of coin being thrown in the air rang out, clinging on the hard floor. Amarant wore a bitter yet smug smirk on his lips, "Hello Geralt." His chest heaved up and down as he tried to regain the oxygen in his lungs. Beads of sweat were sprinkled across his forehead. And despite the venom in his words, Geralt couldn't help the small quirk of his lips as he looked up at the angry bard.

"Hi Jaskier." His voice was breathier than he meant it to be, but could you blame him? He had thought him to be dead for years and here he was, in the flesh, a mere foot away.

"Sorry, there's no Jaskier here," he said flippantly. Geralt blinked.

"Jaskier I have eyes, you're right here," he softly argued. He didn't come all this way to be dismissed so easily.

"The name's Amarant now. Jaskier died on that mountain top as far as I'm concerned," he looked at him with unamused eyes, lips curling into a sneer ever so slightly. "If that's all you came for, I believe your business is done," he said, gesturing towards the door.

Geralt stared, dumbfounded. "I- Jaskier please, I-I'm sorry," he started. Jaskier cut him off with a cruel laugh.

"It's much too late for apologies now. I have a new life now, one not tied to your name. You have no idea how hard it is to forget someone when people are constantly asking you where they are." Geralt looked down at his lap, avoiding his gaze. Amarant tilted his head. "Then yet again, maybe you do."

He hoped off from the table and started to walk away only for Geralt to grab his hand. The touch was gentle but firm, and Amarant could feel just how much desperation was in that one motion. He turned back around, but withdrew his hand from his grip. Open to hear what he had to say, yet signaling that he owed him nothing and could leave at any time.

"Please Jaskier. Let me apologize," he pleaded.

Jaskier let out a heavy sigh, placing his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ciri lingering in the diminishing crowd. She hung back, standing awkwardly, unsure if it was okay to approach them. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes and gestured for her to come over. When she hesitated still, he gently guided her back to her seat.

"It's okay darling, Geralt and I are just going to have a little chat." He wore a soft and kind expression aimed at the girl. She gave a small timid grin, and Jaskier flashed her his charismatic smile to reassure her that everything was fine. Gods did Geralt miss that smile. It could light up even the dimmest rooms and melt the coldest of hearts... After all it had melted his. It had only taken about a week if that before Geralt grew to miss it. The bright flash of teeth after a performance, a sly quirk of his lips when flirting, his tongue poking out between his teeth when he thinks of something funny. It was all so dynamic, just like him. That smile was always something he could rely on. It was there when he woke up after sharing a night in the woods or at an inn, after a successful hunt, followed by a night of drinking and laughter. It was always waiting for him when their paths would meet once more on the road. And it was gone from Jaskier's face as soon as he turned to look at him.

It had been replaced with a truly unhappy look. A frown etched its way onto his face and his brows drew together. From the angle Geralt sat, he could see the glisten of held back tears.

"Jaskier I know I hurt you. Not just with my words but, physically too. I- I know I wasn't a good friend. I was afraid of growing close to someone, so I did what I could to try to distance myself, and in doing so, put you at risk more than once. I really am sorry for everything I said. Not just on the mountain, but before that too. You really are a fantastic bard and a truly good friend. I admit I took your company for granted, and being apart for so long gave me a lot of time to reflect on that."

Jaskier didn't know what to say or do or feel. For years he hated and missed Geralt, wanted nothing more than to slap him across the face before bringing him in for a kiss. He had never felt more torn as he listened to the man speak. This was probably the most words he'd ever heard him say.

Geralt scooted back in the booth, making room for him to sit. Amarant eyed the seat before sitting across from him with Ciri. He didn't know if he could trust himself to hold strong if he were so close to Geralt. If he was able to hear his slow heartbeat close to his ear and smell the sweat and grime that never seemed to wash completely off his skin and hair. So he kept his distance, folding his hands together as he watched him. Steely blue eyes bore into every inch of him. Geralt shifted under the intense gaze, knowing Jaskier had every right and reason to hate him still.

"I don't want to be without you Jaskier."

"You don't want me, you just don't want to be alone!" he argued. Geralt cut in before he had the chance to say anything else.

"At first I thought the same. I'd gotten used to traveling with a companion, and when I found Ciri I thought things would be the same. But they weren't. I still wanted you." Jaskier couldn't help but to snap his head up at hearing those words. For years he had wanted nothing more than to hear Geralt say that. He only allowed himself to be hopeful for a second before he remembered everything all over again and rage filled him once more.

"That's funny, I remember you wanting something completely different! I was such a burden, such a nuisance to you so I did what you asked me. I got the fuck out of your life Geralt of Rivia, and gave you your life's blessing." The witcher flinched at the use of his full name, feeling much like a scolded child. Ciri awkwardly picked at her plate, avoiding looking at either of them but still obviously listening.

"I looked for you, you know. After our fight, but every time I thought I found you, you were already gone."

"Yes well, that's what a traveling bard does. We travel," he deadpanned. Geralt rolled his eyes at the sarcasm.

"It seemed like you were purposefully avoiding me."

"Glad to know my efforts were acknowledged," he quipped with a sneer. Geralt stared at him with something akin to hurt on his face.

"You didn't have to fake your own death." Amarant looked away, mouth hanging open slightly as he thought of what to say. He tilted his head and glanced back at him.

"I have my own reasons, and believe it or not they don't always revolve around you. Now if you'll excuse me," he made to stand, brushing himself off before turning to the door. Geralt followed, and Ciri trailed after him. Amarant made sure to slam the door in his face, but he easily caught it before it could close. They walked out into the cool night, a gentle breeze blew Geralt's hair in his face. He didn't care enough to brush it away.

"Damnit stop following me! Do you have any idea how hard it is to try and forget you?" Jaskier yelled at him. Geralt took a cautious step forward, as if he were a wild animal that would spook if he moved too quickly.

"Then don't." Another step closer. "I really am sorry for everything Jaskier. Now, you don't have to forgive me. But please, let me try to earn you back."

The tears that he had been fighting back finally won, and spilled over. "How? Where do we even start?" Geralt went out on a limb and reached up to cup his cheek, wiping away a single tear.

"How 'bout we start here?" he asked. Before Jaskier could question him, he leaned forward, pressing their lips together. Jaskier was taken aback, eyes wide before they fluttered closed and he found himself melting. He had wanted this for so long. Then he felt Geralt's tongue slip into his mouth, running over his fangs and he remembered why this could never work. His eyes flew open and he pulled himself back. Reacting on instinct, not even thinking, his hand collided with Geralt's cheek with a loud slap.

Geralt didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"How dare you," Jaskier interrupted, "Waltz back into my life after eight years and kiss me like I've always dreamed of you doing, thinking it'll fix everything?"

"I know it can't fix everything, but it's a start," Geralt said, holding him by his forearms. His calloused hands felt wonderful against his smooth skin. Damnit why was he making this so hard? Jaskier tilted his head to the side, not wanting to look at him directly. He cast his gaze to the side, seeing the moonlight illuminate his features in a silver glow. "Please, I can't lose you again."

"Geralt, don't get me wrong I wish this could work, but it just can't. You're a witcher and I'm a-" he caught himself. Geralt cocked his head in that oh so familiar way of his. Unmistakable fear was clear on Jaskier's face as he realized the slip up he just made. If he had any blood in him it would've surely drained from his face. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach and he tried to turn to leave.

Geralt pulled him closer, not ready to let go. He lifted a hand and raised his chin so he could meet his eyes. His voice was the softest he had ever heard it. "Jaskier, I know." Terror now replaced by confusion.

"You- what?" Geralt could pinpoint the exact moment when his brain switched from autopilot to manual, trying to piece it all together. "How?"

"Like you said, I'm a witcher. At first I didn't know exactly what you were, scent is normally carried by blood and even though I could smell emotions and a few other small things, I couldn't place your scent. It was a strange, empty kind of smell. Then I noticed little things here and there. And your fangs aren't exactly subtle." Jaskier stood there dumbfounded by all of this new information.

"If you knew, why did you let me stay? Why didn't you kill me?" His eyes glistened, his mouth slightly agape. He subconsciously reached out, fists gripping tightly to the leather armor. Geralt drew his brows together at the question.

"You're my friend, I wouldn't do that. I only kill when it's necessary, you know that, and you posed no threat. When you first approached, I was skeptical, but then I learned better. I know you Jaskier, you're a good and kind man. And in all the time we spent traveling together not once did you try to feed on humans," he said.

"How do you know?" Jaskier asked. He was still afraid. Afraid of losing him again, afraid of himself, the uncertainty of it all.

"Because I just know." Jaskier was silent, not daring to say a word. Geralt's golden eyes shimmered with longing, and he held him closer. He needed to feel their bodies pressed together. "Don't go."

Jaskier bit his lip, looking at him through his lashes. "Okay. I'll stay." Geralt broke into a wide grin, the widest Jaskier had ever seen. "This in no way means you're off the hook," Jaskier made sure to set the record straight. "You have a lot to make up for."

"I know, and I will." He raised a hand and stroked it through Jaskier's hair, a soft smile on his face. "I've missed you."

Jaskier placed his hand atop Geralt's and leaned into the touch. "I've missed you too." Geralt slid his hand down, cupping his chin and tilted his head up slightly. They shared another kiss, this one slower and with more passion. When they pulled away for a breath, Jaskier asked, "So, where are we off to next?"

Geralt smirked, tugging him even closer so he was pressed flush against his body. His arms wrapped around him, hands resting at the small of his back. The moon bathed them in her silver shine. "I was thinking of maybe staying here for a bit. At the coast."

Jaskier was beaming. "That sounds lovely." And so the vampire, the witcher, and the princess settled in a cave on the shore.

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betterthebest · 4 years

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Here We Go Again | An MJF Fanfiction

Status: *Not requested* Description: Bella was a teen wrestler working in the Indy circuit until an injury cost her her short career. She and MJF were friends turned lovers, turned strangers and friends again. What happens when she joins AEW to lead a faction with her ex? Will their history jeopardize their rekindled friendship?

A/N: This is an alternate universe (no covid :p) where MJF didn’t earn a spot in the inner circle. Hope you all enjoy my original story!

See also: (Part 1) ___________________________________________

Part 2 October 2020

Max called me out of the blue almost four years to the day we broke up. “I’m coming over, I have a plan.” He hung up before I could say anything. He came over with a plan, a contract, and Tony Khan. “You’re coming to AEW and we’re creating a faction,” Max grinned. “Wait, what?” I looked at him like he was crazy. This was the last thing that I thought would ever happen. “You heard me,” he held out a contract. I took the piece of paper in my hands and looked over at Tony. “Is this a prank?” He laughed. “In two weeks, you’re coming out to Jacksonville. Put in your two weeks if you have a job” Tony said firmly. All three of us went over the plan. Being the leader of the faction is what convinced me to come back. I was apprehensive only cause I wouldn’t be able to wrestle. I went to work that night and did as Tony said. The next day Max came back to my house and we wrote out a promo. I had a talent for writing and any time I wrote a promo for myself, people loved it. I only did a few promos during my career since I’ve only been in one major company. We went over what I wrote three times that day.

I had to rehearse for a few days at least to memorize. Two weeks passed and on that Monday, Max and I flew out to Florida. I ended up meeting with everyone I used to work with and it felt amazing. It was like time didn’t even pass with some of them. I ended up staying with Britt and Austin at their place. I didn’t want to intrude on them, but they both insisted I stay instead of paying for hotels. They were always the type of friends I could count on for anything. When Wednesday came, Britt and I drove to the arena. I prepared for the show by saying my promo to Britt to get her opinion. She loved it and said she was excited to hear it tonight. I dressed in black leggings and a black cropped long sleeve shirt. I changed out of my sneakers and borrowed black booties from Anna Jay in the locker room. She suggested I wear them. She’s the type of person that made anyone feel like a close friend. We talked by catering as the show went on. Later that night I met up with Max in the hallway before his match with Jericho. “You ready?” He said excitedly, trying to hype me up. “I’m nervous, but I’m ready.” Millions of people were about to watch me live. The most I’ve talked to was an auditorium of 85 people. “You got this. Just focus on me, okay.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. He knew more than anyone that my anxiety could get the best of me. I nodded with a smile. “Oh and wear this.” He took a necklace out of his sweatpants pocket. It was the necklace he gave me for our six month anniversary. It had a single diamond on the chain. “You kept it.” I gave it back to him after we broke up. I wore it throughout our relationship, never taking it off until the day we broke up. “I did and I want you to have it back. I know we’re not together anymore, but you are my best friend.” I smiled a those words. He was still my best friend too and to hear him say that, made me so happy. I took the necklace from his hands and put it around my neck. “Looks great” Max said. He had to get ready to go to gorilla. He slipped his sweatpants off and tossed them onto a crate. “See you in 20 minutes,” he winked. I let out a chuckle and watched him walk away. I watched the match on a monitor in the back with a bunch of other people. My cue came when Max was about to hit his finisher. My music from 2016 played through the speakers. No one would recognize it besides Max which was the point. Max was distracted which caused him to lose. I stood on the ramp, arms across my chest. I got a mic from a stage hand. “Hi Maxwell, my love. Surprised to see me?” I paused, smirking. “You know, when I broke your heart...I felt nothing.” I chuckled. We wanted to pretend like our breakup was pure drama. I wanted to be seen just as heartless as his character is portrayed. “But now, looking at you in the ring, you look pathetic. I’m feeling very sorry” I said sarcastically. He stood up, Wardlow holding him up. “I have a proposition for you Maxwell.” I took small steps toward him. With my free hand I pushed my long black hair to my back. “I know you want to join a stable. We’ve worked so well together since we were 16.” I placed my hand over my heart. “Join me Maxwell, we’ll assemble a great team. Be my right hand man, what do you say?” He got a microphone. He pulled away from Wardlow and stepped outside the ropes, a couple feet from me. He leaned on the ropes before gaining his footing and takin a few steps forward. “On one condition.” He held up his finger. I nodded firmly. “We’re 50/50. You don’t control me, and I don’t control you. We both have a say in who is worthy to join. Deal?” He raised his brow at me waiting for my answer. I paused for a moment before answering. “50/50 you say?” He nodded and said yeah, but not into the mic. “You’ve got yourself a deal!” He smirked, “and Bella... Don’t interrupt my match again.” He was now inches from my face, bending slightly to look in my eyes. “You don’t control me,” I smirked. He nodded his head with a smirk of his own. Our foreheads touched. All of a sudden he grabbed the back of my head and went in for a kiss, but faked me out. I didn’t even pucker my lips. I was surprised since we didn’t go over that in our script. He walked away, laughing. Wardlow followed close behind. I turned and watched as he went up the ramp. The camera was behind me, closing in on the shot as that show faded to black.

Once it ended, I went backstage running into Max’s arms. The adrenaline rush felt amazing. “That was awesome, I feel so alive.” He picked me up, spun me then put me back down on my feet. “You were so good. I’m proud of you for getting back in the game.” “All thanks to you.” I smiled. We stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime. That faded when I heard Tony’s voice behind me. “Miss promo, that was great!” I turned around to see him and Cody. “Glad you’re here” Cody shook my head. I had to control myself not to absolutely fangirl over him. I used to have a crush on Cody when I was 11. “Thank you. it felt amazing to finally do it after all my practice.” “I’m excited to see what you come up with next week,” Cody said and Tony nodded in agreement. Max put his arm around me, “she has a lot of ideas.” I looked up at him and smiled. He always knew how to make me feel important. He would go out of his way to lift my spirits whenever he could. And for the next few days Tony, Max and I consulted on the weeks to follow. Right now I have a year contract, but if all goes well I can sign more. I wanted that to happen for sure. I didn’t know what else I could do once this was over, but I tried not to think about it. I had to take it a week at a time and next week, I wanted to do something fun for the promo. I planned to find three pictures of Max and I when we were younger. One when we trained, one as close friends, and the last one during our relationship. “He’ll probably kill me, but it’s worth it,” I told Britt. I found the pictures on my phone in a backup folder from my old phones. I deleted a lot off of social media when we broke up. I deleted most of my wrestling pictures in a fit of rage one night. That was one of my regrets in life. It may seem small, but when wrestling is your life, it’s important. I went back home to New York that Thursday night. Max drove me home where I still live with my family. “Wanna come in?” I asked Max before getting in the car. "Your food will get cold before you reach Long Island.” We picked up dinner on the way back. He laughed, “you’ve convinced me.” We got out of the car and got in the house through my separate entrance. We started eating right away, silence fell over us. He looked over at me when he finished. “Bold question,” he said out of the blue. “Go ahead,” I finished chewing my food. He never asked when he had a bold question, so this was odd. “If we were to, you know, would that ruin things?” I swallowed hard. “Um, well it hasn’t ruined things before. We used to, you know at least once a week.” Max chuckled, “fair enough... But then again it took some years.” “But not because of that.” “Right, right.” We sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Wanna do it?” He shrugged. My eyes widened, “right now?” Max nodded, “I mean, we can wait.” “Sorry, I’m just shocked.” I let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t mind,” I said softly. “Are you sure?” “Let’s go,” I stood up. Max stood, his eyes widened this time. “Really?” I walked towards my bed and sat on the edge. “You coming Friedman?” I don’t know what I was thinking. Is this a good idea? Probably not, but I wasn’t thinking with my brain. He most likely wasn’t either. He came over to me and took off his shirt. Seeing him with no shirt and sweats on did things to me. He reached out and grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. “I don’t have abs anymore,” I said softly. He ran his hands up and down my sides, “still perfect.” He bent his head and brushed his lips against mine before locking them together. It felt nice to kiss him again. His arms wrapped around my body and he lifted me a little to push me back on the bed. He broke the kiss, “I missed that.” “Me too,” I smiled. That night was amazing. Memories flooded back. It was like we hadn’t missed a beat. Our bodies just molded together perfectly. We laid in bed, wrapped in blankets. Max held me close, his body heat radiating off on me. He would kiss my shoulder randomly from time to time. I always loved when he did that. “That felt great,” he said for the third time causing me to giggle. “It really did.” He spent the night with me. We went again before falling asleep. I fell asleep right away while in his arms. I will never forget that night.

#mjf #mjf fanfic #mjf imagine #aew imagine #wrestlingfanfiction #here we go again

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leechonspeeddial · 3 years

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Midnight Shift: The Serpent at Burger King - A Seduction of Kevins Summary: The Devil comes disguised as everything you want, Alice Cullen comes with fondue fountains and Bugattis. wc: 1.7k Read on ao3

There was one simple lesson I learned from a young age and quickly internalized while living as a Cullen.

Never play chess with a psychic.

You think a mind reader is a problem? No, you just have to add on geographical distance and then you're back on an equal playing field; as long as you keep apart, you can use your best strategies and winning is still possible. A psychic though, there is no distance you can go to be hidden from their sight. Once they get their teeth in you, your odds at winning are – for a lack of a better word – shit. So, as I held Alice's gaze at our local Burger King, I reminded myself this one very important rule.

Never play chess with a psychic.

Too late.

If you did find yourself playing chess with a psychic, the best course of action would be to become irrational and flip the board. You might not win, but neither would they and you'd save yourself the effort. I took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were currently five humans with ten pairs of working human eyes at the restaurant; flipping the board would be disastrous, either people would die or they'd bear witness to vampiric activity. So that's out of the question, next strat.

Though Alice had gotten used to reading around the blind spots caused by me, she hadn't totally mastered it yet. My best choice was to act without thinking and take over the conversation as much as possible. That, well, that I could manage no problem.

"Well, well, well. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I addressed Gay Kevin, hoping to also neutralize Jasper. Mr. Emotional Roofie was another obstacle here, trying to goad my coworkers so that they emotionally overwhelm him was my best shot. "Showing up two hours late to your shift with no warning?"

Gay Kevin looked exhausted.

"Please, not in front of the customers," he sounded embarrassed. Not Kevin snorted and took the interruption as an opportunity to make Milkshake boy his drink and get away from Alice. Meanwhile, Straight Kevin hopped over the counter and directly headed towards the old fries – if we didn't do our duty to eat them, they would be thrown out.

I also took notice of the guy that came in with the Kevins; he was shorter than Gay Kevin but slightly taller than Straight Kevin, he had thick black hair, but more importantly, he carried a video camera with him. He observed us, brown eyes full of amusement, and I sincerely hoped he was a vlogger.

"They aren't customers," I chirped with a predatory smile.

"I am a one though," Milkshake boy frowned. I waved him off.

"You're Not Kevin adjacent. You don't count," Gay Kevin looked increasingly irritated despite Jasper's attempt at giving chill vibes. He crossed his arms.

"So, what's this? You decide to throw a party while I was gone?"

I was about to retort when Alice interrupted me. I glared.

"There IS a party involved, but not here and not right now. Alice Cullen, nice to meet you, I'm –"

"Resentment's sister," Alice scrunched up her nose but nodded.

"Yup! And I came here to personally invite you, other Kevin, and Not Kevin to Nessie's party"

"You said you were born on 9/11," Straight Kevin's said accusingly with a mouth full of fries.

"It's not a birthday party," Alice tried to clarify, only to be drowned out by Not Kevin.

"You were born on 9/11?" I turned to address him and realized he was making Milkshake boy a chocolate shake, ruining all the hard work I put into my performance. Today was definitely not my day.

"I mean, yeah, but not like 9/11 9/11. I'm only 16," Not Kevin nodded but then his eyes widened as a realization seemed to hit him.

"Oh fuck. I forgot that was 20 years ago…"

"I wasn't even born 20 years ago," Straight Kevin added and it seemed to act as a punch to Not Kevin's gut.

"God, you guys are babies. I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten early and being glued to the news for the rest of the day," Gay Kevin's statement also appeared to have a negative effect on Not Kevin, making him look even more miserable. Camera man looked like there was no place he rather be. Alice, well, she looked endlessly irritated.

"I feel so old" Not Kevin whispered, shell-shocked.

"You are old. What are you, like 50?" Not Kevin glared at me.

"What's 9/11?"

I blinked. Everyone went quiet and stared at Milkshake boy, who looked very confused. No one spoke for a full beat.

"Jack's 19 and, uh, Canadian," Not Kevin shrugged helplessly and said as if that explained everything. He handed the kid his milkshake.

"Hey, I thought there weren't any Oreos –"

"ANYWAY," Alice said loudly and we all looked at her, "it's not a birthday party. It's more like a celebration of Nessie's first job. Our family would love to have all of you for dinner"

"She means that we'd love to have you at the event. Not that we want to eat you for dinner," Jasper added unnecessarily and made me want to face palm. So, I did.

"I wasn't worried about possible cannibalism when she said it, but now I am," Straight Kevin took a wary step away from Jasper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"There will be plenty of free food and you can take as many leftovers as you want with you," Straight Kevin seemed to seriously consider this.

"I'm in," Alice handed him a pink envelope and smiled. Fuck.

Improvise.

"Speaking of customers. We have one right now," I pointed at Camera man, "so we can't deal with you right now," I tried to push Alice out the store but she held her ground.

"I'm also not a customer," he shrugged, "I came for the rats"

Shit.

"Tài…don't do this" Gay Kevin pleaded.

"My hands are tied. I promised my audience," so he was some sort of vlogger. This was admittedly the only good thing that has happened today.

"See, he's not a customer. I can stay," I groaned at Alice's smug tone.

"Technically, you're both loitering. So, neither of you should stay"

"I agree with the Assistant Manager"

Alice and I stared down at each other while Camera man and Gay Kevin had a silent conversation with their eyes. For the next while, the only sounds that could be heard in the restaurant were Straight Kevin loudly chewing, Milkshake boy slurping, and Olivia Rodrigo's drivers license playing on the speakers.

Suddenly, Not Kevin snapped his fingers, drawing our attention to him.

"You know, it occurs to me that since both Kevins are finally here, I can take my break. Come on Jack, I'm taking you home," he quickly made his way around the counter and grabbed Milkshake boy. "I'll make sure to call if I'm somehow two hours late," I smirked at Alice as her eyes narrowed. I greatly encouraged any action that made her look like that.

Milkshake boy tilted his head and didn't let himself be dragged out of the joint. I had half a mind to help Not Kevin.

"But dad said to –"

"Your dad will be ok with this as long as you don't set the house on fire. Again" Milkshake boy frowned.

"It happened once. I said I was sorry"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on bud, time's ticking"

Finally, that seemed to get Milkshake boy moving and heading to the door.

"Don't forget your invite!" Alice called out.

"We're good," Not Kevin responded with a hand on the door and the other pulling the teen along.

"Did I mention there will be a fondue fountain?"

Not Kevin hesitated by the door and I could only feel horror as my stomach dropped. Not Kevin was weak for cheese and cheese related by-products.

"Chocolate or cheese?"

"Both," I held my breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair.

"Shame, I'm on a diet"

"You aren't –"

And they were both gone before Milkshake boy could finish calling out Not Kevin's blatant lie. I fist bumped the air and stuck my tongue out at Alice, fully intending to gloat over this minor victory.

That is, until I saw Alice smiling.

Fucking psychics.

"What's got you so smug," I snarked, hoping to get a hint of whatever vision she just had. She smirked and I could tell she could see right through me. So much for not playing chess with psychic.

"I had a sudden revelation that everything will be alright," her eyes twinkled with mischief and, not for the first time, I was very jealous of Edward. Why the fuck did he get the mind reading powers? Tactile thought projection was so stupid and useless the majority of the time.

"You're so fucking annoying"

"I prefer the term persistent," I'd prefer if she was set on fire. "Which reminds me, hey boys"

Camera man and Gay Kevin stopped doing whatever the hell they were doing and paid attention to Alice, who was holding up one her dumb little pink envelopes.

"What do you say, a chance to eat fancy rich people food and see some fancy rich people cars," Camera man turned to Gay Kevin.

"Babe"

"Is this like, appropriate. Professionally speaking," Gay Kevin scrunched up his nose trying to figure out the etiquette of this weird ass situation.

"I'm more than happy to take you guys on a spin in my brand-new Bugatti"

"Babe"

"Why does this feel like bribery?" Gay Kevin narrowed his eyes at Alice, he seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Because it is," I growled and attempted to set Alice on fire with my stare.

"And I fully admit it. I just want to throw a good party, and guest are a very important part," she stretched out her hand towards Camera man, "think about it, that's all I ask"

Camera man and Gay Kevin shared a look, and Camera man grabbed the envelope. Ugh.

"Wonderful! Remember to R.S.V.P., we'll leave you to it," she waved and grabbed Confederate hubby.

They walked away and I could hear Alice speak, her voice far too low for human ears, but just the right volume for me.

"There's been a change of plans, we're meeting up Esme"

I scowled. I knew it was bait, I knew Alice wanted me to hear her, and it was driving me insane. Why would they need to see Esme? Why would Alice want me to know this?

I fucking hated my life.

#midnight shift #twilight fanfiction #resentment cullen #twilight #alice cullen

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Ranking : Martin Scorsese (1942-present)

Of all the places in the world that seem to be hubs for creative energy, New York stands high on my personal list of favorites, and when it comes to iconic New York filmmakers, there aren’t many that can hold a candle to the prolific career of Martin Scorsese. His appreciation for films, art and music blasts off the screen with the same energy as his kinetic cinematography and vibrant editing. Once he established himself as a mainstay in the industry, his list of collaborators evolved into a who’s who of acting legends, both old and new. His career spans just over 50 years, and even his latest film (his 25th in his catalog) went head to head with other contenders for the top awards of the year.

To put it bluntly, there is Martin Scorsese, and then there is a long list of imitators and those influenced by his genius. To rank his films is a true test of logic, patience and decision making, but after a few weeks of catching the 7 or so films I had yet to see, I think I can stand behind this list as my definitive ranking (from least to most favorite) of a director I hold in the highest regard.

25. Gangs of New York (2002) An honest attempt at an epic flick, but at the heart of the matter, I simply don’t care about either side in the battle Scorsese presents us. Set in New York City in the mid 19th Century during the Civil War, we are thrown into a generational battle where the two key figures have different goals... Bill the Butcher stands as antagonist in his fight to maintain power and control, while Amsterdam is our protagonist charged with a mission of revenge. In the end, neither side ends up mattering, very much like my personal experience with this all flourish, no foundation exercise in style.

24. Bringing Out the Dead (1999) Nicolas Cage was gearing up for the run that most people know him for now during the release of Bringing Out the Dead : he was coming off of Golden Globe and Academy Award wins for Leaving Las Vegas, but was quickly leaning towards films of a more exploitation-based style. This film marked a refinement of his wild-man persona, while simultaneously being one of the last high-level actor/director combinations he would be involved in before his mad dash to accept every film and avoid bankruptcy. New York is captured in a mid-transition point between the darkness of the 1970s and 1980s versus the Disney aesthetic of the new millennium, and while heavy on the entertainment factor (as well as visually striking), there is ultimately not enough on this plate to push it higher up the list.

23. The Color of Money (1986) If you had to do a quick gander at the Scorsese list and pick the film that, on paper, screams Hollywood, it’d be hard to argue against The Color of Money taking that top spot. A soft sequel to The Hustler, Scorsese picks up the Fast Eddie story in the 1980s (an era that oozes out of each and every frame of this film), and yet, despite this legendary move, the film is ultimately the Tom Cruise show. Scorsese’s trademark dollying and trucking camera shots work beautifully in the context of this film, but in a story that shines bright, the star of Cruise ultimately outshines all that remains.

22. Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974) After a few exploitation-based projects, it seemed that Martin Scorsese wanted to provide a slightly different change in perspective, albeit one that still dwells in the darker corners of life. Rather than deal with the streets of New York or crime, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore is a study on broken homes, single parenthood and domestic violence that oscillates between the view of the titular Alice and her young son. Harvey Keitel gives another strong performance as a Scorsese regular, while Ellen Burstyn shines in a transitional role towards more mature performances. Seeing Scorsese camera movements coopted into a more down to Earth story was refreshing.

21. The Departed (2006) Many people would have assumed that The Departed would be higher on a list of Scorsese films based solely on the cast... pairing Leonardo DiCaprio opposite Matt Damon in a tension-filled triangle with Jack Nicholson is a bold combination in its own right, but surrounding this nucleus with Martin Sheen, Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Corrigan, Anthony Anderson and supporting actors of that ilk creates a rich showcase of talent. Stylistically, everything you need is there too, as Scorsese proved time and again that films of this nature were his wheelhouse. That being said, the story itself, an adaptation of the 2002 Hong Kong thriller Infernal Affairs, takes a few liberties in its adaptation that ultimately are to the detriment of the narrative. Kudos to Scorsese for putting this one together, and too bad for him that the choices of William Monahan knocked what could have been a mega-classic way down the list.

20. New York, New York (1977) New York, New York is one of the most unique offerings from the Scorsese canon for a number of reasons. Of all his films, this one is probably the one that can be considered a “style exercise” more than the rest, as it oscillates between obvious sets and real locations before blurring the lines between the two. Long gaps of time are given to fully executed musical numbers (a must when a talent like Liza Minnelli is involved), and traditional methods of songwriting and performance are given their due respect. The exercise portion, however, comes in the newer acting styles that are infused into the old school structure... improvisation and aggressive physicality are used to put a deeper, disturbing red tint on an era often presented through a rose-colored lens. While interesting at times, the nearly three hour run time of the film begins to wear on the limits of the style, which ultimate leaves the film feeling more like a personal indulgence than a statement on changing times. For the iconic title track alone (and the buildup to its release), this film is worth seeing, but in terms of its placement in the realm of other Scorsese films, it may have to grow on me a while to find a higher placement on the list.

19. Boxcar Bertha (1972) Originally, this film was much lower on the list, largely due to its chronological placement between Who’s That Knocking at My Door and Mean Streets seeming odd to me. Upon revisitation, however, it stands clear and present that this film served as an exercise in the process of directing and organizing a shoot. With its period-specific placement, ensemble cast and action sequences, it was bound to be compared to (and ultimately overshadowed by) the formidable Bonnie and Clyde, but Boxcar Bertha has a few key moments in it (including a stellar final action sequence) that places it near the middle of the Scorsese canon, even with it being his second film.

18. Who's That Knocking at My Door? (1967) For all of the refinement that Scorsese found in his second film, his debut film, the stunning Who’s That Knocking at My Door?, stands as testament to the fact that Scorsese brought his many gifts to the table from day one. What started as a student graduate film grew into a speculative project, only to find 25th hour funding that allowed it a festival run and a proper release. The film took many years to complete and release, to the point that keen viewers will notice Harvey Keitel’s boyish, soft good looks morph into the sharper, edgier intense profile we came to recognize in Mean Streets and the films that followed. The energetic cinematography, respect of film as a medium, stellar music choices, defiance of youth, toxic masculinity and realistic look at relationships are all here, making this debut a hidden gem in the Scorsese canon.

17. The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) Seeing Scorsese retread old stylistic ground (as opposed to infusing his style into newer projects) is an interesting take, and for what my opinion is worth, The Wolf of Wall Street feels like Goodfellas for white collar criminals. In theory (and, in some aspects of the film, in reality), the experiment does work, but ultimately, this film finds its placement in the middle realms simply because we are given infinite sizzle off of what amounts to a very thin steak. Goodfellas works because it is carried by the weight of omerta, but The Wolf of Wall Street focuses on a culture where status comes from self-appointed importance, which ultimately makes for an attempted redemption story for despicable people.

16. The Irishman (2019) Seeing actors the stature of Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Al Pacino combine forces for a film is always a major event, but until 2019, those combinations have been limited to duos. When Netflix announced its intention to release The Irishman in 2019, people were not only intrigued on Scorsese’s take on the Jimmy Hoffa story, but seeing De Niro, Pesci and Pacino in the same film for the first time. For what it was worth, the trio lived up to all expectations, with the only bittersweet criticism being wishes that the three could have found a way to work together prior to the twilight of their careers. The historical drama is high quality, with Hoffa’s larger than life persona captured perfectly by Pacino, and bolstered by the dramatic chops brought to the table by De Niro and Pesci. The film is a tad on the long side, and the de-aging process tips into the realm of the uncanny valley due to the older actors’ physicality, but for a 25th film 52 years into an illustrious career, The Irishman must be recognized for the triumph that it is.

15. The Aviator (2004) Much like The Wolf of Wall Street, I avoided The Aviator for years simply because I have no interest or fascination with Howard Hughes. I was very much aware of his financial stature, his innovations as an aviator, his rocky love life and his personal demons that plagued him, but for my money’s worth, I was fine without seeing it presented on the big screen. In an effort to cover all the bases for a director I hold in high esteem, however, I made the decision to finally check out The Aviator, and for every element of the film I previously had no interest in, an element was presented that won me over. Cate Blanchett and Adam Dunn put on two of the strongest performances in the entire realm of Scorsese films, and the XF-11 crash sequence is possibly one of the grandest and well executed in any Scorsese film. Leave it to Martin Scorsese to make a powerful film about an individual I care nothing about and nearly crack the top ten with that effort.

14. Hugo (2011) Up to the point of watching Hugo, I knew nothing about it. About halfway through Hugo, I had to stop and look up how the film was received, as it was simply stunning, and sure enough, it was a monster in terms of award nominations and wins. I never would have pegged Scorsese as the type to direct a kid’s film, but in all honesty, that ‘kid’s film’ title is used as a façade for a love letter to film in general, and the groundbreaking work of Georges Méliès specifically. The look of the film is otherworldly, the energy is light, kinetic and infectious, and even a mostly slapstick performance by Sacha Baron Cohen yields surprising emotional depth when given the opportunity to do so. While just missing the top ten, Hugo easily stands as the number one surprise on this list in terms of pre-viewing expectations (of which there where none) versus post-viewing thoughts (of which there are many). Knowing that Hugo exists lets me know that one day, if I have children, and they want to know why I love film so much, I will have a film on the level of Cinema Paradiso to share with them and (hopefully) help foster a love of film they can call their own.

13. Casino (1995) For a time, this film stood as the last work containing the vibrant combination of Martin Scorsese, Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, a trio of high energy creatives known for putting their all into their projects. Casino felt like a spiritual successor to Goodfellas, focusing on a lavish but secretive lifestyle with high stakes and even higher consequences. An instantly iconic movie, Casino felt like the end of an era in regards to gangster fare for Scorsese, opting instead for more challenging projects, adaptations of other books and films, or personal passion projects. It would be nearly 25 years later before Scorsese would touch similar subject matter or work with these actors again, but had Casino been the last of Scorsese’s so-called “gangster” films, I believe the world would have been happy with that.

12. Kundun (1997) To make one religious-based film in a career is a bold move to some, but I am hard-pressed to think of any director that made films on two different religions who didn’t explicitly make religious films. With that in mind, it is incredibly impressive that Martin Scorsese was able to make a film as moving and objective as Kundun after making such a bold take on religion as The Last Temptation of Christ. The film centers around the discovery, growth and eventual escape to India in light of growing aggression from China. In all honesty, I had my doubts as to whether or not the Scorsese style would work for this story, especially in light of the lack of cooperation from Tibet and China, but somehow, Scorsese’s amazing signature camerawork captures the unique spirit and essence surrounding the Dalai Lama. I’d heard of this film for years, but never got around to it until it was time to make this list, but I will almost certainly try to find a copy to own in the near future.

11. The King of Comedy (1982) What an odd left turn in regards of career trajectory for both Scorsese and De Niro. With three collaborations already under their belt (not to mention The Godfather II already being a well-established classic), it would have been easy to imagine the duo putting another notch on the gangster film genre belt. What we are given, however, is the yang to the yin of Taxi Driver : our protagonist is a statement on personal conviction and the trappings of instant stardom, our antagonist is a statement on star fascination and the high costs of celebrity, and our satellite characters directly reflect the toxicity certain fandoms can be capable of. Scorsese sets aside his normal flourish and camera moves for a mixing of film and video mediums, as well as a completely new sense of freedom in regards to the highly improvised nature of the film. Its influence on recent successful films like Joker is undeniable, but I’d argue that Joker lacks the heart, sincerity and realistic bite present in The King of Comedy.

10. After Hours (1985) Of all the “new to me” Scorsese flicks I finally viewed while preparing this list, After Hours stands as my favorite discovery of the bunch. I was marginally familiar with the film, both from my younger days in video stores and from friend recommendations, but for some reason, when Scorsese time arrived, After Hours seemed to never be on the docket. That oversight, however, will now be a thing of the past. This film feels like a personal challenge to Woody Allen in regards to how one should make a New York-based romantic comedy, and I’d be hard pressed to share any shortcomings or failures present in this comedic masterpiece. One of the few films that can be both a product of its era and a timeless classic, and one that should be much more recognized in the Scorsese canon.

9. Shutter Island (2010) Me hesitating or not getting around to Scorsese films seems to be a bit of a common theme here, but there was literally no excuse for me to take this long to get around to Shutter Island. Despite knowing the premise of the story (and even having the ending somewhat spoiled for me), I still found the impact of the final moments just as powerful as I imagine I would have going into this film blind. Some people will likely argue this statement, but in my opinion, this was the best Leonardo DiCaprio performance captured by Martin Scorsese. The asylum setting is wonderfully bleak, and the psychological horrors it infers create a vibrant playground for some of the most stunning visual symbolism that Scorsese has ever committed to film. Don’t be like me if you’ve not gotten around to Shutter Island yet, because it’s a thrill ride more than worth the price of admission, and a rewarding repeat viewer.

8. Mean Streets (1973) Mean Streets may have been Martin Scorsese’s third film, but for many fans, it was the first true indicator of the brilliance that was to come. A true New York film through and through, it not only presented fans with a stronger Harvey Keitel performance than Who’s That Knocking at My Door?, but it introduced the world to the palatable tandem of Scorsese and De Niro that would go on to lead to years and years of iconic performances. The use of altering aspect ratios is something that I wish Scorsese would have continued to use more often, but in all honesty, Mean Streets has style to spare. This the film that I love to recommend when people start ranting and raving about Goodfellas, and more often than not, it impresses those unfamiliar with it just as much.

7. The Age of Innocence (1993) Martin Scorsese’s love of film is widely known and well documented, but The Age of Innocence goes an additional step further by displaying Scorsese’s love of art. The film also is one of the most touching displays of unrequited love that Scorsese has committed to film, a slight alteration from his normal infusion of love stories trying to sustain in the surrounding chaos of gangs, crime, religion and so on. Daniel Day-Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer and Winona Ryder all give standout performances in this masterfully directed film. If Gangs of New York was meant to be the definitive old school New York film in the Scorsese canon, then The Age of Innocence is the unintended definitive New York film from Scorsese, with some European touches thrown in for good measure.

6. Cape Fear (1991) Of the many, many iconic performances that Robert De Niro has given Martin Scorsese, I’d be hard pressed not to put his characterization of Max Cady at the top by a clear margin. Cape Fear was already a classic film adaptation of The Executioners when it was first released in 1957, but De Niro pulled two fast ones with his update : in terms of casting, especially with the aforementioned De Niro, Scorsese brought the harrowing story into a much darker, recent world, therefore increasing the tension by upping the ante for violent retribution, while at the same time, paying direct homage to the original by having Elmer Bernstein adapt the original Bernard Herrmann score. Juliette Lewis also provided a breakout performance in this modern day classic, and possibly the film that provided the most tense debate in terms of placement, as we will get into with the next film.

5. Silence (2016) Despite being one of the most recent Martin Scorsese films, this one’s limited release meant that I missed it during its initial run, and the lack of streaming service placement essentially erased it from my memory. I was certainly intrigued about watching it for this list, and it ended up being the last film viewed. Going into it, it felt like a sort of religious take on Saving Private Ryan, but it didn’t take long for the film to start dealing out much heavier cards in terms of faith, belief systems and cross-cultural contamination. The Last Temptation of Christ showed that Scorsese could find nuance and secular drama from a holy tale, and Kundun showed that he could make a religious icon a relatable human figure struggling to grasp his divine appointment. Silence is the work of a wise, steady hand, however, like some sort of cinematic parable or testament to faith in the face of crippling doubt and danger. Scorsese is certainly still moved by the idea of faith, and he uses Andrew Garfield to display this in some of the most powerful moments that he has ever created or captured for his films. For those who have not seem the film, this placement may feel a bit high, but I would not be surprised if, given time and proper amounts of reflection, it makes its way higher.

4. Raging Bull (1980) The placement of Raging Bull and Cape Fear was the biggest hurdle I was forced to overcome in the creation of this list. Robert De Niro is powerfully captivating in both films, though I would personally give his performance as Max Cady the nod over his embodiment of Jake LaMotta, but when it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, Raging Bull is ultimately the better of the two films. The raw, black and white look of LaMotta’s life already provides a gritty, unflattering portrait of a savage and uncouth man looking for beauty in the world, but that beauty he searches for appears in the boxing sequences with no apologies. The airy look, mainly caught by dynamic slow motion photography, works in tandem with the abrasive first-person views of the combatants, not to mention the direct nature of the combat itself as the viewer is often placed directly in the line of fire. The involvement of the real LaMotta within the film provides a nice button to the superb acting put on display by De Niro, Joe Pesci, Cathy Moriarty and the numerous actors used to portray the opponents of LaMotta.

3. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) Call it a trope if you like, but it feels like every great (or aspiring) director has a film in them that is driven by religion in some capacity. The Last Temptation of Christ is unique in this sense because it takes the story of the accusations, betrayal, trial and eventual crucifixion of Jesus and turns it into a deeply faith-based suspense thriller. Many of the familiar beats we know from the Bible are re-contextualized as visions, mystic tests of faith, carnal desires driven by lust, and nihilistic views infringing upon deep indoctrination. Willem Dafoe plays a Jesus that is bitter in his acceptance of his fate, Harvey Keitel plays a wonderfully opportunistic Judas, and Barbara Hershey plays a very modernized version of a woman forced to use her body for survival that is suddenly trapped between necessity and passion. The film hinges on the verge of becoming a soap opera without falling into the trappings that come with such high drama, and the walkup to the film’s amazing final sequence puts you in the emotional passenger's seat while Jesus takes the wheel and steers directly into his fate. A dramatically powerful yet brutally sincere take on an iconic, revered and sensitive subject matter.

2. Goodfellas (1990) Is there any original praise left to bestow upon this movie? To focus on the imperfections of this film is an act of futility, as they are mostly non-existent. Some of Martin Scorsese’s best examples of his iconic camera movement, editing techniques, still frames, writing gleaned from personal experience, soundtrack use, loose historical connections and dark humor are found within the confines of Goodfellas. If you’ve seen in actor in any television show or film that had any connection to the mob prior to Goodfellas or since, it is more than likely that that actor was in Goodfellas, even if only briefly. Using Henry Hill as both an outsider and insider perspective is a brilliant narrative stroke, as he can get close to the top, but can never have it all, making him essentially a fly on the wall bursting with charisma and personality. They highs are as epic as the lows are tragic, and for most people, it is the first film that comes to mind when the name Martin Scorsese is mentioned. This could have very easily been the number one film on my list, but anyone who has been visiting this blog with a keen eye for detail probably figured out my favorite Scorsese film the first time they visited the DOOMonFILM blog.

1. Taxi Driver (1976) Since the day that I started this film blog, there has been one image at the top of the page : Travis Bickle in the porn theater (with his face replaced by my logo) from the iconic Taxi Driver. There’s not a single element that I can put my finger on for this film, but there are certainly a number of elements that do speak to me : the isolation that Travis faces, the journal-like narration that drives the story forward, the hypnotic nature of both Bernard Herrmann score and the repetitive taxi cab shots and the vivid camera movements are all burnt firmly into my brain. Everyone that makes up the main cast for this film kills in their performance, and the ending of the film is not only a brutal one, but an ironic one in regards to where Travis lands in the eyes of those who make up the world of the film. Martin Scorsese has made more amazing films than some directors have made, period (amazing or otherwise), but for my money’s worth, none of them are as powerful or well put together as Taxi Driver.

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