#it’s a coincidence because to me the colors of the sky early in the morning are the prettiest

[heli0s-writes]

DRABBLE TIME :D

🫂 💕(forehead plss) 🤝🏽 ✊🏽 🥰 💪🏽

(Okay fineee u got me yes I just wanna read some DAMN GOOD HEARTWARMING FLUFF so I can cry over my singleness)

(Also I hope it's okay for me to request that this be a bucky x y/n (f) fic 👉🏽👈🏽 but if not pls feel free to write it about characters of ur choice!! I'll read whatever you write regardless of who it's about 🥰)

a/n: Thanks for the ask :) Here's 800 word of being in stupid love with Bucky Barnes. Angst and fluff and lots of snuggles. Title from "Moon River" <3

28 Ways Masterlist

"dream maker, heart breaker"

When God made Bucky, he must have wanted it to hurt.

Looking at him for too long is like moon-gazing through a high-powered telescope. You don’t expect it to be painful when the light hits your eye because you forget how much light there actually is.

Most nights, it’s a silver dollar, hanging isolated and beautiful that from where you stand, its visible scarring— aftermaths of a distant past, blurred by the stretch of space— doesn’t seem real.

As in, you forget there’s so much to see.

You forget there’s an entire other side tucked behind its back that observers only manage to glimpse if they’re lucky and are briefly offered just an auspicious quiver.

You think there’s so much moon in him.

Ancient history in the rise and fall of his topography: the delicate shifts of his skin and bones; the hot red blood that ran and how much of it erupted during the epochs of his life. How it must have flowed like seawater as he shivered alone in a silent, frozen landscape.

His many faces: his alert, cunning eyes, steely and knife-sharp; his cheeks, rounded and high with color, when he laughs and it surprises everyone. When humor catches him off-guard and there’s a quick bark of joy slipping out before the back of his hand hides it again.

What wondering minds conceive when they make stories of him: a wild animal, a traveler in the shade of a tree, a disgraced exile, a divinity.

He carries it all with supernatural grace. The weight of his entire being locked into a sequence he never signed up for. Only existing as a casualty of collision, a long line of coincidences that travelled and travelled until they made impact, that shattered and burst and finally returned to life metallic.

And yet, so bright.

It’s approaching dawn now and he’s a splinter of a thing in your bed.

Curled up into the sheets, hair a wild mane of auburn where early sunlight favors it. His side profile pressed into your pillow, rolled carelessly over until he was pushing you toward the border.

You couldn’t see him then but heard him murmuring and felt him shaking as he chased blindly. Just the faintest whimpers for attention as his fingers reached out, his powerful body folded as if in utero.

And it was a silly thing that broke your heart, despite how full your heart is these days with love for him.

He’s still tangled up in a dream, movement beneath his eyelids giving him away. His fingers twitching, one leg slotted beneath your own beginning to flex and bend.

You snuggle closer to him, turn until you can clutch him to your chest, rubbing his silver shoulder—up and down the red star that seems to constantly burn him alive.

His brow furrows, tormented with agony. His hand clenches into a boulder behind your back. His speech is slurred and Russian, rattling numbers and compliance and you’ve learned enough to dissect the vocabulary, can parse out his desperate pleas of sir-ready-missioncomplete-missionreport-itdoesnothurt-Iwillobey-Iamnothing-Iamaweapon-Iamyourdog—

He makes a curtailed noise. A quick, high whine like a pained animal, so you let him seek out your body heat, let him burrow into your neck and cling to your waist as his teeth chatter.

And there’s not much more can do when he falls apart like that. Nothing you can say or assure or shout out as much as you want to in order to wake him. He won’t—he never wakes. He only continues to cross the memory, dragged routinely across the deep sky until morning. Sometimes it goes on for hours. Sometimes it goes on all night.

But now the sun is ascending, chasing away the dark, tucking his fears back into the other side of the world and Bucky calms with it, crying tamped down to only a few sniffles.

You brush away the wet hair that has stuck to his cheeks and forehead, wipe his brow and press your lips to him, tasting tears and sweat.

You do it again, another kiss to his forehead, and again, leaving your own mark, impacts of softness, and love, and everything he needed and couldn’t receive for so long.

“Sorry,” he stirs, “woke you up—” but you shush him with a kiss to his nose, then one to his chin.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, shy and embarrassed, but you’ll have none of it, especially when he doesn’t pull away, only leans in to receive more because he wants it as much as he’s needed it and you’ll give him everything, every night.

Your exiled divinity. Your bright, bright boy. Your moon and his many faces.

You kiss all of them again—and again, and again, and again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction

[libidomechanica]

“You did sit wilfulness or will wight, waking”

Only reason ripple breach, but     love, than boy, on horse. And many a moment, as of their     private sea: where murmurs fled, and rot, for the women gain     they were upon us at heart turn to Alexandra     after-mouldest may read

to the sky is enemie had such     agonies she’s mine a perfect I doing has, like birds     shall rather’s dochter! Yet so my wit or good shall look at     noble tongue in man’s snow, or earth, desperate thee relief?     The Muse and some colors

coincide is life; ring naked     forefine that bind all unmeet the fact: and, the slipping     air, and songs I do not mars mid-ocean? Are doth such annoied.     Or some backed as this … The make a stones that have been bed.     Who in the scent moon, ah,

poore Vassal tides began; and escape     of Fair than infant, in it beside by its burn, I     shall eye-iudge the waxen ringlet right is least; yet, I might     of noble fire. No one would moving youth doubtful eyes were     dead man, and we went work

of odour flesh so blame is soul     needs like a gipsy late Anything earth is he told merely     to tramped the masterdom. Thou thine heart, and hath been me     shore, if thinke home; that hearken to haue bore the Mayfly is     less glee, thro’ the said; she

love tender to whereof the house,     with music out. But none swear at this hold it our feet wood,     and at he hath shadow’d race in the prince they at it selfe     in chant play, not to me now, no more; when the leave thing, and     when a thought with light, insphere

that God nor happy more we     all-subtilising this some away: we are gone time     distory of wonder is friend reason was red. And woes, my     Anthology of the valleys, shewe not wakes the book we     call upon thro’ summer’d

master-bowman, O moons called The     dawn, against miss’d my vow, or harm air before dead man to     cutte the grapple to crown ever should not the Worldling rose     with gentle Lawiers, the world is behind thing he midway     she linnet the past, and

eat oaths’ breaking, day, they worne with     honeycombs, by a truth that sure to bind and since we guest     together loudly in the daily newsletter with face     with banquet. To love to do, doing out of clay: name of     the birth of my wreathed

the crop-full world we have the blow.     If eve serene rest. While we complaint, no near ideal it’s     fonder the street both he flower-plot; outside open country     without my heart that is that would pierced to sleep she wrathful     eyes; for I through I

was once my jade; shape or a wide     more thee stayed some scuffing in the sharp be than before thick     tears. And all to watchery wander than the apart, and     this … The cannot died entangled in you. You did sit     wilfulness or will wight, waking.

Her compell’d that the village,     to comfort in the time with you! For the father, to pine     who make her happy morning things, and birds of paradise;     and tasted with so blindness, where. The charms arose is night     is stalke; when I bearded

buds and to marge rest; whereof to     wakes daggers in the grace, or than boy, as born, we’ll to seems     it self-infold: but if one liquid and think and fail is     small pale sky; the first not care a crime wisdom heaven’t hearts     canvas clothed and go with

rises unweeting if loves their     love spite, why such continents webs your first releasing and     love your guard themselves, or my scythe illusions had each us     of dust that I was they could we for them treble thee.     To heart, but unity

on decks of doom, when on the     rightened hand all the Devil’s Own Brigade: and ocean men     may rise and hilt, and envy I do destroy’d, or the hours     meets all I ever died in boundless regret, burn the world     or Geordie of God;

tho’ mix’d foreverence now the     most set a lodging an air, but by might strive to hide or     to have it or no early lightness or who wan, with you,     because a small come. A thou fail, but I felt the cloud that     suit of her faithless; field

alone forsoothing street us     a famine, but Phosphor, behold on the banquet love, Jamie,     comethinke new that crimson fringed fro the Sea-shore,     so long well. Gone would strain, and ashen rope in prisoners in     forms than the meadows but

blows from the death, to be silence,     my mind, crowness ills, I see thee all his aching days, he     law, one tender’s eyes were earth and but ended: laiko,     Commonplace was this scarcely mountains again repeat the dark     fen themselves knows to kisse.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #188 texts #ballad

[sandsucks]

Marble and strawberry?? 💜

Marble: Favorite time of day?

Early in the morning, right when the sun comes up! Although I don’t get to see it every morning cause I’m sleeping lol, it’s still my favorite time of the day 🤍

Strawberry: Is there any colors you despise?

Nope! There are some colors I like more than others, but I don’t think there are any colors I truly hate

#it’s a coincidence because to me the colors of the sky early in the morning are the prettiest #anyway thanks for the wonderful ask! #ask game #secret academia #sands asks

[moosoobi]

Battle Royale

(1) Fresh bread, French Prince

G.Lafayette : Hamilton the musical

Sometimes when you work on a project, there are moments when you need to take a break and work on something else. That’s really the case with In The Night, I have all these ideas but sometimes I feel confined to ITN (I literally have not started Chapter 3 when this is posted). And thus this fic was born. I hope you enjoy! 

Y/N and Lafayette’s POV 

Bridgerton inspired AU (watching the Bridgerton series would probably help in understanding ideas of ‘courting’ and finding a suitors) 

Odd social structure (dukes are essentially owners of land which was popularized in London, Washington is considered a president, and Lafayette is now a prince!) 

not my cover image 😟

Word count: 4k

Literally the biggest thanks to @deja-you for proofreading and some great feedback, ILY 🧎‍♀️

—-the Washington residence

The dreamy clouds would stream across the sky as Y/N began to read the newest article from Thomas Paine, the most notorious writer known for acknowledging every piece of gossip and whispers among the noble colonists. 

The pamphlet felt newly written, as few spots of the odd-smelling ink would smudge. Though Y/N was not awake, a young boy delivered this meticulous pamphlet to the Washington residence before dawn. 

As the daughter of the president, being the center of noble gossip was nothing new to her, in fact, gossip was never the center of her attention either. But something about this pamphlet in particular would surely catch her eye. 

She began to read:

‘The scene for this courting season is looking quite interesting. Now that these young ladies are finally of age, they will indeed add competition to the scene.’

Ah yes, the annual  courting season. A time for women and men to make their move and commence into the adult world. While many aren’t satisfied with their partners, reputation seems to grow higher than feelings. 

‘Many pertinent names are included in this season, and I’m honored to document the presence of these people.’ 

‘The Schuylers: all three of the incredible General Schuyler’s daughters are finally entering the courting scene simultaneously. During the war, many soldier boys would fall head over heels to impress them, and many were unsuccessful. I’m ecstatic to observe the lucky men to take the hand of Angelica, Elizabeth, and Peggy Schuyler.’ 

‘The Payne’s: Miss Dolley Payne has finally been granted entrance into this courting season. Many theories and speculation suggest that her arrival to the scene at the same time as the other great names was not a coincidence.’ 

‘And finally, the most significant family joining us this season,’ 

Y/N sucked in a breath 

‘The Washington’s: His grace’s pride and joy, Y/N, will be the most imperative competition this season. The pressure of being the president’s daughter, as well as the stigma of conceiving an heir, follow her wherever she resides. Nonetheless, Y/N Washington is an extraordinary star among the courting scene, and it would indeed be foolish to throw away your shot.’ 

‘It’s just common sense.’ 

‘-Thomas Paine’ 

It would take Y/N a couple moments before her squeals of excitement could be heard across the residence 

Shortly after, the rumbles of Y/N racing down the stairs would cause her parents, George and Martha, to take suspicious glances at each other. Y/N finally reached the dinner table where her parents were finishing up their morning tea. 

“What’s got you going so early, dear? I usually have to pull you out of bed around this time,” Martha questioned 

“Sir Payne wrote about me in the paper! My entrance to the courting scene seems to be the most glittering cluster of ink in this pamphlet” She squealed 

Y/N excitedly, yet also harshly, slid the pamphlet over to her parents, moments later they would observe her words to be true 

“That’s great, dear” Her father, George, looked up from the paper with a smile. “I know you’ll represent the Washington Family name well, although it’s a shame you’ll have to lose it when you get married” he sighed 

“Oh lighten up George, Y/N will be the talk of the town, I’m sure she’ll attract some worthy gentleman” 

“Damn right he better be worthy.” His eyes transferred from Martha to Y/N 

“Remember Y/N, very few are prepared to handle a Washington, you can even ask your mother.” 

Y/N couldn’t hold in a giggle as Martha rolled her eyes. Both Y/N and George watched as Martha arose to place her porcelain dishes in the sink

“Well I must be soo blessed to have to take care of two of them.” 

George turned back to Y/N and slid her a letter across the table, keeping another letter in his opposite hand, which was still unopened

 “May I ask what this is?” She held up the letter. Even the feeling of the paper could tell Y/N that it came from the colonial gentry. The scent faintly reminded Y/N of champagne and flowers, and the seal was a sparkling coral-pink shade. The letter appeared to be already opened 

“The Schuyler’s are inviting you to a small tea get-together, whatever you kids call it.” 

Y/N opened the envelope, searching for the details. How exciting was this, to be among the best of the best, especially in the greatest city in the world. Before she could reply, George began to speak again

“I’ve already requested for two escorts to accompany you on your way to the Schuyler residence.” Y/N turned to him in confusion 

“Huh?” She questioned “escorts?”

“Now that you’re officially in this courting season, your safety could be potentially in danger. I’m just trying to make you comfortable” He retorted 

“Father, I’m sure I’m capable of walking on my own. I mean, the Schuyler residence isn’t even that far and-”

Y/N was interrupted by multiple knocks on her door. She shot a ‘this isn’t over’ glare to her father before wandering over to her front door. She opened the door and found a surprise

The Duke of Monticello and the Duke of Manhattan, my father’s two trusted secretaries. Dropping the formalities, Y/N addressed them by their first name 

“Thomas? Alexander? Don’t tell me..” she turned back to her father. Jefferson and Hamilton stood at the doorway, both with flowers and nervous in the presence of Washington 

“Father, I’m starting to question whether you worry for my safety, or worry for your pickiness of my suitor.” Thomas and Alex attempted to hold in their laughs as if their lives depended on it 

“Of course I do!” He held a hand to his chest as if he was hurt “although I do owe them a favor-” a smirk spread across Thomas’s and Alexander’s face, yet was quickly faded as Washington addressed them 

“But no funny business with my daughter. If I hear of any shenanigans from either one of you, you both have serious consequences.” Y/N turned back to the dukes, both of them appearing drained of color. 

“Let me get dolled up and we can be on our way” Y/N swiftly ran upstairs, leaving Thomas and Alexander alone in the presence of their boss. Those poor, poor, boys

Five minutes later, Y/N glided down the stairs in her fancier skirt. Her corset gave her an amazing shape, and her hair made her appear to be a celestial being. She caught the dukes’ eyes lingering on her for a little too long. Luckily, Washington wasn’t around. “Let’s keep our focus on what’s really matters, guys” she laughed 

“R-right...” they said in unison, both turning away and pretending to be interested in the furniture in the house. Y/N had never seen the two secretaries so calm around each other, it made her realize the power the Washington’s have in the colonies. A simple order from a Washington could probably end wars, especially if it’s capable of making Jefferson and Hamilton contain their pride 

“Your graces?” She held out her hands, signifying that she was ready to depart. The dukes held out their forearm and elbows for her to take. Y/N intertwined her arms into theirs, and they headed for the Schuyler residence.

A few minutes down the path and Alexander Hamilton decided to break the silence 

“I still can’t believe you’re entering this season, Y/N. I mean, I still remember running around those horrid military camps all those years ago” he chuckled. It’s true, it’s been all these years since the war and so much has changed 

“I like to believe I’ve grown into a wonderful, young woman, don’t you think?” I batted my eyelashes towards both of them 

“Of course darlin’” Jefferson cut in “but just because we’re your honorable colleagues doesn’t mean Hamilton and I won’t be lining up for your hand” 

“Don’t be so sure. I heard this season has a few aggressive competitors on both sides. The Schuylers, the Paynes, even the Madisons! I might have to step up my game. In the meantime, both of you have to keep an open mind.” 

Thomas and Hamilton stared at each other, surprised by her response. 

“And If I find out that both of you placed bets on which one of you will earn my hand, I’ll be reminding my father to collect both of your heads.” 

Their heads hung in defeat “alright, alright darlin’ I think I kind of like my head attached to my body. No need to get violent.” 

“Plus I don’t think any of you can truly handle a Washington.” Y/N giggled, her arms still intertwined with theirs

“If Jefferson and I don’t scare away the competition, I’m sure your father will” Alexander chuckled, Thomas visibly reacted to the joke as well 

“Oh come on, the two most popular dukes of the colonies have nothing on a suitor that is truly worthy of me” she scoffed 

“And where would you find such a worthy contestant? Someone better than a duke?” The three stopped in front of the Schuyler residence 

“Don’t kill my hopes, a Washington has her ways” Y/N removed her arms from Thomas’s and Alexander’s, heading for the front door. As soon as she was greeted by General Schuyler herself, she waved goodbye to the clashing dukes 

“She’s so mine, Hamilton.” Thomas stated 

“I’m sure you should be worried about your tomcat nature, Jefferson, don’t get too ahead of yourself” Alex retorted

Jefferson audibly scoffed before wandering with him into the city 

—-France

3 weeks prior to Y/N reading that exciting pamphlet, Marquis de Lafay-- Now Prince Lafayette sat around a table of French nobles and officials. It felt like ages since he’s been in the colonies, and it has only been a few years ever since the French Revolution had ended. Yet instead of abolishing the monarchy system in France as Lafayette promised to the colonies, he and a few other nobles replaced the previous royal family. 

Lafayette was later titled as a Prince, as were other leading men of France, but he urged to continue being addressed as the ‘Hero of two worlds’. 

But with a new era upon the people of France, came the countless government meetings and conflicts that he had to resolve. 

“Your Majesty? Are you even paying attention?” Secretary Robespierre whispered over his shoulder, causing him to visibly straighten himself out. 

“O-Oui. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lafayette laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. Robespierre rolled his eyes before whispering again. 

“This is our last meeting of the day. With all due respect sir, can you get yourself together?” 

“Okay, Okay.” Lafayette sighed with boredom 

He missed the colonies dearly, sometimes he wished he never left at all, but seeing his country yearn for a revolution compelled him to sail across the Atlantic once again. He often daydreamed of his riskier lifestyle with his closest friends and soldiers, as well as the feeling of awe while serving directly under General Washington. Never in his life did Lafayette think he would miss the adrenaline rush of stealing cannons and leading fully arm battalions. 

His teenage memories of fooling around in those military camps, wandering the streets of New York City severely intoxicated, and the best memories of all, the memories of escorting the General’s daughter, Y/N Washington, to buy bread and pastries for him and his fellow soldiers. 

Oh, what could she be doing now? 

If it weren’t for the revolution at hand, Lafayette would’ve surely bent a knee once she set foot onto the military camping grounds. Lafayette held such a high respect for Y/N when they first met, especially since she was the daughter of his most admired general. The women in France just couldn’t compare to her heavenly beauty, and her kindness was unbeatable. She was the greatest treasure that Lafayette had stumbled across during his time in the colonies. Although many noblewomen would attempt to take a bite of him, Lafayette stayed loyal to his non-existent promise to Y/N.

A quick quill-slam to the table, and he was quickly drawn back to his reality. Why should he worry about his previous General’s daughter anyway? Lafayette was now a Prince, he could have anything he wanted. But the moment he set foot in France after the American Revolution, he lost the most precious things he already had. He yearned for glory, but at what cost? The cost of abandoning his bonds in the colonies? 

He sighed, standing from the meeting table and wandering to his quarters. Secretary Robespierre followed closely behind him. Sensing an odd tension from Lafayette’s mood, Robespierre attempted to address his situation

“Do you need anything, your majesty?” Lafayette froze in his tracks, weighing his two options 

“Actually...” Lafayette turned to face him “Schedule me a ship to the colonies. The earliest one you can find.” 

Robespierre tilted his head in confusion, letting the last sentence sizzle in his head.

 “I’m sorry, what?” 

The prince in distress sighed with fatigue. “I’ve decided I’m heading to the colonies, tout suite.” Lafayette kept his gaze strong  

‘B-but sir, you have so much to take care of-” Robespierre was notably panicking at this moment. “-and the recent shortages-”

“Mon Ami, there are at least three other ‘crowned princes’ who are perfectly capable of maintaining this nation. One prince gone won’t hurt the economy”  Prince Lafayette stated firmly 

Robespierre debated for a moment before confirming his thoughts “Alright. I’ll notify you when the earliest ship can be sailed. But what shall you do about the gossip? Perhaps they will believe you are not responsible enough for this role.”  

“Let the people speak as they please. In the end, I’ll remind them who’s in charge.” Lafayette began towards his quarters once again, Robespierre stayed behind to script all of his thoughts. 

Finally in his study, Lafayette dipped his quill into the nearest container of ink and started to write. 

‘To the Great General Washington, It’s been ages since we’ve last written…’

Maybe Lafayette will be able to have a taste of his old life. 

---the Schuyler residence

Giggling echoed throughout the Schuyler residence as the 5 girls enjoyed their tea. 

“Have you gals read Payne’s newest pamphlet? We’re the talk of the town as of now” Angelica, the oldest Schuyler, smiled with satisfaction. Her luminous complexion complemented her coral pink gown. 

“I never expected our courting debut to be so..” Eliza searched for the right words “..turbulent among the talkers..” she took a sip of her tea 

“I’m still stunned by the feedback” Y/N laughed nervously “My father even requested his two most clashing secretaries to escort me here, they didn’t even argue once” she said in awe 

The top 5 girls of the season all sat in one room. Though they would eventually become each other's courting competition, they were great friends nonetheless. During the war, Y/N would stay in the Schuyler household while their fathers were out of town daydreaming of being free from the king, attending a few balls together, and watching soldier boys trip over themselves. After the war ended, Dolley Paine became a mutual connection through their high ranking families. The 5 got along way too quickly. 

Peggy held up the tea pot “another fill, ladies?” Y/N and Dolley nodded, both taking their turns to fill their cups. 

“Awee, look at you Peggy, you’ll make a perfect wife” Dolley teased. The rest of the girls laughed it off, yet Y/N didn’t feel at ease with that statement. 

“You don’t actually think we will all get married that quickly, do you?” Y/N looked around to see their confused expressions. “Guys?” 

“Well..” Angelica pondered for a moment “I believe that it’s ideal to marry on your first season” 

Peggy had to stop herself from spitting out her tea 

“That soon? But we’re so young, and-” Eliza interrupted

“And we’re ladies. Society expects us to do nothing more and nothing less with what we’re given” Angelica takes a content sip of her tea once again “I don’t make the rules around here.” 

The silence was awfully louder than the conversation. 

“Alright.” Dolley smiled “I guess we'll just have to make this next few weeks extra special, right?” 

Y/N took a deep breath “the best of the best.” She muttered

Peggy turned to her and nodded, and Eliza was quick to join. Y/N faked a smile at the girls, ‘I guess that’s just how it is’ is what she thought, and Angelica would raise her glass for a toast 

“A toast to the best courting season?” The 4 other girls raised their glass as well. 

Though many hours were filled with laughter and giggles, Y/N couldn’t help but imagine how much her life would change within the next few months. And just by entering this season, Y/N will give up her youth and give someone her hand to please someone. To please herself? To please the people? To please her parents? She had no clue 

She stared out the window, remembering those nights of staying at the Schuyler residence, watching those drunk soldiers stumble across the street. Many of them were her friends, friends she had met through her fathers rank. She smiled at the thought of the most memorable gentleman she had met while at those camps. 

‘The French Foreigner’ is what they used to call him, but only before he became comfortable in the colonies. ‘Marquis de Lafayette’ was his title, and Y/N always loved the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. 

“I don’t know what my father told you, but I’m sure I don’t need you to accompany me simply to buy bread” Y/N stood stubbornly 

Lafayette gently grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips 

“I just want you to be safe, mon ange, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt..”

 He kissed the back of her hand, maintaining eye contact. Y/N appeared as if she just experienced a revelation “..shall we be on our way, mademoiselle?” 

She took a moment to think, her head still in the clouds. Y/N slowly nodded “Alright.” The two intertwined arms and headed into the city 

Oh how she missed the old days. Y/N hated to admit it, but she truly believed she met the most exquisite gentlemen during the war. Whenever she’d stay at the camps with her father, a small group of soldiers would always keep her company. A tailor, an abolitionist, two immigrants, the camps were definitely a mixing pot. 

At that very moment, Y/N prayed she’d be able to find someone like the men at her fathers military camp during this courting season. 

Y/N jumped at the tapping on her shoulder

“Y/N? Don’t tell me you already have suitors lining up out there for you” Y/N shook her head and laughed 

“I just spaced out. That’s all.” She attempted to change the subject “What were we talking about?” She questioned 

Peggy interrupted “Next week's ball, the first ball of the season. Do we show up in our best, or do we build suspense until the last seasonal ball?” Peggy debated 

“Let’s take one ball at a time, shall we?” Eliza proposed her idea 

“Well for the first ball, I suggest….” All the girls gathered around Angelica to hear her plan

—-Lafayette’s quarters (France)

Prince Lafayette neatly folded his clothes as he was departing for the colonies within a few hours. He remembers the excitement he felt when he traveled to the colonies for the first time, having to dress like a pregnant woman in order to board the ship, but he still cringes at the imagery. 

He elegantly stuffed his belongings into his shoulder bag. He stood back to admire his rushed work, but he felt as if he was missing something. 

Lafayette looked around his quarters, his eyes became glued on his treasured gun, gifted to him by General Washington himself. The wooden hilt was stained with god knows what, but the gold trimmings were shining in the afternoon sunlight. 

He’d already have French soldiers accompanying him, he was a prince after all. Would he need such weaponry? 

“I do not see why not.” He muttered to himself before stuffing it into his bag with the rest of his belongings. Lafayette dusted off his fancy clothing and stood in triumph, well, before a woman cleared her throat behind him. 

Lady Adrienne stood at the doorway to his study, her emerald green skirts creased against the doorframe. Lafayette and Adrienne previously courted before he left for the colonies, which ended up being her last straw. Lady Adrienne attempted to stop him, since she was a loyalist to the monarchs of France, but Lafayette refused to listen. 

“que veux-tu? I'm busy at the moment.” Lafayette covered his bag with a nearby coat, crossing his arms. 

“I heard you’re going back to the colonies. What’s so special across the ocean that you can’t have here? You’re a prince for god sake” 

“It’s none of your concern, get out of-”

“Last time you left for the colonies- left me for the colonies- you just weren’t the same when you came back.” she was on the verge of yelling

Lafayette sighed, having already been through this conversation ever since he came back to France. 

“This is nonsense. I need to be alone as of now.” Lafayette turned away from her to continue packing his belongings. She had a hurt expression on her face; part of her mind refused to believe he wasn’t her suitor anymore. Ever since he left for the colonies. 

She slowly began to advance towards him. “That is no way to talk to your previous courting partner, Lafayette.” Her tone was strong yet unsure. 

“It’s Prince Lafayette to you, and there’s a reason why we’re not courting now..” He was notably irritated by her presence. 

Lady Adrienne wasn’t leaving his quarters until she was given an answer. 

“Was I not enough for you to stay in France…?” she rested a hand on his shoulders, Lafayette visibly cringed. “What’s in the colonies that you can’t have here?” 

Lafayette swiftly turned towards her, brushing her hand off of his shoulder in disgust. “I don’t have to answer to you—“ he attempted to retort

“—Don’t tell me you’re still mad that I had more faith in the monarchs of our country rather than you” 

Lady Adrienne rolled her eyes annoyingly, Lafayette blood had already begun boiling long ago. She started moving closer to Lafayette, attempting to trap him in his room, and forcing him to stay in France. Although this was her main plan, she wanted an answer, and she wanted it now. 

“Your own lover didn’t believe in you. Is that why you’re so upset? It’s quite the reaction for something so minuscule—” she scoffed. 

Lafayette snapped

“—as a matter of fact, you weren’t my lover. It’s not you, its...” 

Lafayette, clearly frustrated, struggled to hold up under his old friend’s gaze. She saw it in his eyes, the way they lightened when he thought about the colonies. 

She saw a similar light in them the day he returned from France. Perhaps it was the praise he obtained for the foreign war, or perhaps some treasures he discovered, or maybe someone.

“Lafayette... Did you find another partner in the colonies?” 

The panic was visible in his eyes, but there no was no reason to panic, he thought. 

Lafayette brushed up against lady Adrienne, his lips were millimeters from her ear. He began

“Our relationship ended from the moment I set foot on that ship, and I do not regret it one bit..” 

He stepped out of her reach and continued to pack away his belongings, Lady Adrienne was frozen with shock.

“My business in the colonies is my business only,” He stated strongly. “And you are free to believe whatever you want, it would benefit me in the least to care about what you think. Am I being clear?” 

Lady Adrienne could only stand in silence

“Security! I’d love for you to escort this maiden out of this quarters at once!”

He’d never forget the hatred in her eyes as she was humiliatingly taken away. Lafayette kept his mind on his current task: the colonies await his arrival. 

—to be continued—

#alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltrash #daveed diggs #thomas jefferson x reader #hamiltonau #lafayette x reader #alexander x reader #hamilton masterlist #battle royale #so hyped for this series #sorry to in the night chapter 3 for not starting you HAHA #hamilton the musical #george washington #daveed x reader #somewhat Ig #hamilton musical

[extasiswings]

I can’t finish the second half of this yet, but I figured I would post the first.  Also on ao3. EDIT: PART 2 IS HERE. 

Eddie’s avoiding him.  

At first Buck brushed it off—Eddie wasn’t avoiding him, it was early in the morning, he needed coffee, he hadn’t slept well. It was a coincidence that Eddie was nowhere to be found as the sky shifted from hazy pre-dawn to full daylight.  A coincidence that Eddie just happened to walk out of every room Buck walked into, if he was in one at all.  

A locker shut too quickly.  A half-empty coffee cup left on the counter.  

By the time the first alarm of the shift goes off though, Buck’s starting to think he might have to face the inevitable.

“Where’s Eddie?”  Hen asks when he climbs into the truck.  “Aren’t you two usually attached at the hip?”

Buck forces a smile and shrugs.  “Guess not today.”

Eddie’s the last one in.  When he doesn’t give him more than a passing glance, Buck’s stomach twists.  

They make it through the morning without incident—or, rather, they make it through the morning with both of them successfully doing their jobs as Buck steals glances at Eddie every few minutes, unsuccessfully trying to get a read on him—but by the afternoon there really is no denying it.  

Eddie’s avoiding him.  And Buck doesn’t have the faintest idea why.  

“Eddie—”

When they pull back into the station, Eddie’s out of the truck first and Buck blows out a frustrated breath and calls after him.  He doesn’t stop, but Buck scrambles out and manages to catch up.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you today?”  He asks when he finally manages to corner him in the locker room.

“Really don’t want to talk about it right now, Buck,” Eddie replies.  He seems to be looking anywhere except at Buck, his jaw tense, and Buck has never been more confused.  

“Well, we have another six hours on this shift, so…”  Buck trails off and waits, but Eddie doesn’t fill the silence.  Buck sighs.  “Seriously, what the hell is wrong?  I saw you a day and a half ago and we were fine, now you’re avoiding me and pissed off?”

“Yeah, remind me—how was watching Christopher the other day again?”

Buck pauses, feeling like he’s walking into a trap.

“It was fine?” Buck says slowly. “He was good, we had a good time.”

“Right, you said,” Eddie replies. “Neglected to mention the part where you told him I was out on a date though. Or the nice long conversation you had about it afterwards.”

And there’s the shoe dropping. Right into his stomach like a block of lead. Because, okay, yeah—maybe in the process of making conversation he had said so, it must be kinda weird having your dad out on a date and instead of saying yes or no Christopher had looked up from his coloring and asked dad’s what? And maybe that led to a very different conversation than Buck intended. And maybe he hadn’t mentioned it when Eddie came to pick Chris up, or afterwards, because Chris asked him not to.

...and maybe he’s just now realizing that was a big mistake.

“I didn’t know he didn’t know,” Buck says. “It’s not like it’s a secret—“

Eddie rakes a hand through his hair.  He still won’t look at him.

“We’ve been on five dates—five casual dates. It’s not serious—I don’t even know what it is yet—and I was going to tell him myself and answer any questions he had when it became something he needed to know about.”

Buck crosses his arms. “So it is a secret. Or was. At least from him.”

And maybe the judgment in his voice isn’t fair, maybe he’s projecting a little even though he knows that Eddie not telling Christopher he was dating and his own parents lying to him about his entire life are not remotely equatable, but it’s there in his tone and Eddie’s shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing as he finally meets Buck’s gaze.

“I don’t always tell him about absolutely everything that happens in my life immediately, especially when it doesn’t affect him,” Eddie replies, his own voice carefully even. “That doesn’t make me a bad parent.”

“I didn’t say—“

The alarm goes off and Buck swears under his breath.

Eddie brushes past him and Buck opens his mouth to call after him again.  But then he closes it, swearing again as he tries to shove everything down and follows after Eddie back to the truck.  

Hen looks between them as they get back in the truck, her eyebrows shooting up as she takes in the set of Eddie’s jaw and the way he’s staring pointedly out the window.  

“Everything...okay?”  She asks.

“Fine,” Buck replies, clicking his seatbelt and looking out the opposite window.  

Halfway to LAX, he decides to just apologize even if he doesn’t really understand what he’s apologizing for.  But then, in the time it takes to get the rest of the way there, he talks himself out of it again.  If Eddie wanted to date and hide it, that was one thing, but that didn’t mean Christopher didn’t have a right to know.  Who cares that he spilled the beans a little early?  If Eddie wanted him to babysit, he should have told him that he didn’t want Christopher to know why.  

Then they probably still would have fought about it, but then at least they wouldn’t be at work like this.  

They pull onto the tarmac and get out of the truck and everything is just fine until Bobby says—

“Buck, go help Eddie.”   

Eddie’s in the middle of giving a concussion check to the woman on the ground, but his shoulders tense slightly at Buck’s approach.

“How can I help?”  Buck asks.

Eddie clears his throat roughly.  “Can you grab that gurney, please?  I’ll need help lifting her.”  

They work in silence, Eddie sliding a backboard underneath the woman—their eyes meet for a brief moment as they lift the board up to the gurney.  And Buck hates it.  Hates the silence, hates the avoidance, hates the distance.  Normally, he wouldn’t get into this in the field, but they’re almost done anyway, so he can’t quite stop himself from saying—

“I know you’re a good dad.  That wasn’t what I meant.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow and glances pointedly down at their patient and back up at him as if to say really, you want to do this now?   

“Look, I—”  Buck blows out a frustrated breath and changes his mind again.  “I’m really not seeing the issue here.  If you want me to apologize, I’m sorry that I brought it up when Christopher didn’t know, but—”

“That’s not even half the point, Buck,” Eddie shoots back.  “You shouldn’t have been bringing it up at all.”

“He’s a kid, I figured he would have questions.”

“It’s not your place though, is it?  Because he’s not your kid!”  

Buck reels back like he’s been slapped.  The world falls out from under him as his throat closes up, and he catches the faintest flicker of regret across Eddie’s face before he adds—

“Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one of us who’s dating.  But you didn’t feel like you needed to talk to him about yourself, did you?”

Eddie’s wheeling the gurney off before Buck can untangle his tongue—or untwist his mind—enough to respond.  

Buck spends the rest of the shift in a fog replaying it all.  He considers asking Eddie what exactly that last remark was supposed to mean, but he can’t get past the sick hollowed out feeling in his gut, like he’s missed several steps walking down the stairs.  He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to expect—they’ve only had one major fight before, and that was during the lawsuit when Buck was fighting with everyone, and this is—

It feels even more personal than that had.  

Part of the problem is, he knows that Eddie isn’t wrong.  He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.  

Christopher is Eddie’s kid.  And maybe the lines have gotten blurred because Buck spends so much time with them, because he’s right there next to Eddie more often than not, helping to make dinner and playing games and helping put Chris to bed and checking his homework—

But.  Christopher is Eddie’s kid.  At the end of the day, that’s it.  And logically, Buck knows that, so it shouldn’t sting so much to have that very real fact thrown back in his face, but...it does.    

No, he didn’t feel the need to talk to Chris about him dating because it’s a nonissue.  He’s not going anywhere, it’s not going to change anything, He’s only doing it at all because—

Buck’s climbing into the jeep at the end of the shift when he has the thought, and it’s too sudden for him to cut it off the way he normally would, to shove it down and pretend it’s not grating at his insides.

He’s only dating because Eddie is.  So that he has something to think about except the fact that Eddie is.  And the fact that he doesn’t want—

Buck blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his hair.  Then, he shoves his keys in the ignition and starts off home.

(It’s easier to date than to admit that he’s jealous of Ana Flores.  Because if he admits that...he doesn’t know where they go from there.)

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #shhhh trust me

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (9)

Warnings: parent death, daddy issues, abandonment and ~le angst~

Wc: 4.1k

You sat at Dea's desk, your eyes drooping heavily as you explained a sum to her. The girl opposite you was wide awake though, energetic as she solved the problem in her worksheet.

You were glad she had warmed up to you after the first session, but her endless enthusiasm towards mathematics at the moment was diametrically opposed to how you were feeling. The numbers on the pages swam as you decided to let your cheek rest on the table, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

"Y/n?"

You darted awake, turning your head to her. "Y-yeah?"

"I solved it. Also, are you okay? You look tired."

That's because I am. "I'm fine." You assured, flipping through her workbook to find another page for her to do.

Could anyone blame you for being tired? You'd stayed awake all night in anticipation, your heart thrumming as you thought about what was going to happen today.

After this session, you were going to go straight to the park. If Chan showed up...you would know he felt the same. What if he didn't?

You shook your head, dispelling the negative thought. Fuck no. You'd gone without pessissism for so many years, despite having many reasons to be the same. This wasn't going to be the day you surrender to it.

You felt your phone chirp, signalling the end of the session as you looked over at Dea, who had finished her worksheet. You smiled and took it from her, putting it in your bag to correct later.

"Our next session is going to be day after tomorrow, okay? Your mom said you have a sleepover to attend tomorrow." You said as you packed your bag, getting up. "Remember to do your homework though."

She nodded. "It's the sums on page 38, right?" She asked, pulling out a pink book from her drawer and writing in it.

"Yeah-" you narrowed your eyes as your eyes fell on her book, confusion filling you.

The book was covered with brocade, a very familiar pattern on top. It was the same design as yours, except pink. The color was the only difference. The print, the shape, the size....everything was the exact same, down to the signature on the bottom of the cover.

The signature of your father's.

You opened your mouth, words failing to leave you as you watched her write in it, your mind hurtling back as the memories drove into you, full-force.

You were extremely young when your dad had gifted you the little blue book you'd come to love and cherish. It was the last good memory you had of him. The tiny books were handmade by him, a result of a hobby he'd picked up one summer. Your dad had always been somewhat of an artsy man, and this was his latest project.

He'd made a dark red diary for himself, one for work purposes. You remembered marveling over how pretty it looked, begging him to make a similar one for you. And he did.

And now here was an exact copy of the book you'd kept for years, in the hands of this young girl you'd never met before. Was it a coincidence?

"Earth to Y/n!"

You snapped back into attention, looking at the girl who had her eyebrow raised. You opened your mouth, wondering if you should ask.

But you couldn't. Shaking your head, you decided to bring it up to your mom when you got home. For now, you simply bid adieu to Dea, leaving the house as your mind swam.

***

Minho looked to the side, thanking the heavens that Jisung and Felix were still asleep, despite it being morning already. Thankfully, the heavy curtains in Changbin's guest room ensured that the sunlight didn't manage to wake up the two.

Last night after the match, he'd decided to spend the night at Changbin's house along with Felix and Jisung. And now he was just waiting for the right opportunity.

As the snores increased in intensity, Minho carefully took out your book from his pocket, using the light of his phone to illuminate the pages as he flipped through each one to find what he was looking for.

Drawings. Drawings. A few poems. Even more drawings- huh. Drawings of Chan. They were well done, yet clearly drawn by someone who was in love with him. Minho rolled his eyes as he checked the back pocket and the front one, searching the book thoroughly and letting out an angry sigh when he found nothing inside.

Anger surged through him as he threw the book roughly next to him on the bed, rubbing at his tired eyes in disappointment as he tried not to let the frustration bubble up. Why did the universe hate him so much? Was it all for nothing?

A minute later, he felt Jisung stirring, snapping him out of his thoughts. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed your book and moved to hide it again- frowning when his eyes fell on the long note written across the page.

He'd obviously missed this the first time he flipped through. Narrowing his eyes, Minho started to read the poem, slowly realizing it was a love letter, meant for Chan. His eyes moved to the last sentence. Ah...

So, you were planning to confess to Chan at the park. Minho grinned, knowing Chan wouldn't show up. After all, he never saw this letter. His smirk grew as he reread the sentence.

Not to worry. Even if Chan didn't show up, he would.

***

It was way too early. Chan hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, his heart twisting with anxiety.

He'd lost the book.

Last night, after he'd gotten out of the shower, he checked his pants for your book, deciding he was feeling calm enough to read what you'd written for him. As he'd searched his pockets, finding them empty, his stomach had filled with dread as he realized it was gone.

Trust. You'd trusted him enough to give him your closest possession, and he'd been careless enough to lose it. He cursed himself, turning over and burying his face in his pillow, wondering how he was going to face you. Usually, he called you every morning to make plans to hang out, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to.

He didn't want to see you sad and disappointed, knowing he was the reason behind your ever-present smile disappearing.

***

Minho walked home, sipping on the can of beer he'd stolen from Changbin's fridge. It was definitely too early for this, but he honestly couldn't care less. As he neared his house, he tossed the can in the trash, running a hand through his hair as he walked closer.

The front door opened suddenly, and he frowned. His mom usually went to work much earlier than this, so who was leaving his house right now?

Minho's eyes widened as the person finally came into view, shutting the door and walking down the street.

Quickly darting behind a tree, he watched as you walked away, your feet moving quickly.

What were you doing in his house?

***

As Chan made his way into the locker room, he searched everywhere for the little book. He couldn't comprehend how it could have just disappeared like that. He was so sure he'd kept it in his pocket...

He let out a frustrated groan as he left the stadium, pulling his hood over his head as he noticed how there were a few dark clouds accumulating in the sky.

He'd done everything he could. He'd already called Felix and told him about the situation, but he didn't have a clue either.

Now, there was nothing left to do but face you. He wanted to curse, wanted to kick something or punch someone. You were never going to trust him again after this, and the thought broke his heart more than it should have.

****

You sat on the park bench, nervously, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for Chan to arrive. You stared at the lake, your heart pounding impossibly fast as you expected him to come at any moment now.

The sunlight shone on the water, and you observed the pair of ducks swimming together, a soft smile on your face, desperately wishing you could draw them in your book. It felt weird being away from it. It was usually always in your bag, the proximity of it always giving you comfort.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret giving it to Chan, though- The book had been replaced. Chan made you comfortable in a way no inanimate object ever could.

The view in front of you was extremely peaceful. Love really was everywhere. You'd never really understood it before, but now you could...And it was a beautiful feeling, yet scary at the same time. You felt like confessing had taken a huge weight off of your heart, but you were deeply terrified of Chan's reaction. Sure, he'd been the one to approach you, take you on dates...he'd been the one to initiate the hand-holding and the kiss. Yet you couldn't help but be self-conscious. Your father leaving you had given you trust issues, and your mind started coming up with worst case scenarios even as you desperately tried to bat the negativity away.

But all of it melted away as you felt someone tap your shoulder.

This was it.

Your heart fluttered as you turned around slowly, your mind filling with happiness at the prospect of seeing him again after last night-

Wait.

The smirk facing you definitely did not belong to Chan.

You stared at Minho in shock, standing up from the bench and backing away slightly as he raised an eyebrow. Why the fuck was he here? The dread in your stomach was back, and this time it was heavier.

"Surprised to see me?" He snarled, moving forward. You continued to move away as he moved closer, fear filling you as you stared at his slightly deranged expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He chuckled, and you swore as you realize you were cornered, having unintentionally backed up against a tree.

"At least, not yet." He said nonchalantly, trapping you against the bark as he hovered over you, making you gulp.

"W-why are you here? I'm...I'm expecting Chan soon, so p-please leave." You mumbled, summoning all your confidence as you avoided his heavy gaze. He narrowed his eyes, smirk reappearing as he shook his head at your naïvety.

"Oh, I hate to break it to you...Channie's not coming, dear." He said in a matter of fact tone, relishing the way your expression dropped further.

"What? B-but, the book-" you mumbled under your breath, almost to yourself. Minho scoffed, slipping your book out from his pocket roughly and holding it up in front of you.

"You mean this book?"

Your eyes widened. No. No way. How did this happen? How did it end up in his hands?

"You must be wondering how I got this, hm?" He let out a small snort. "Well, your precious Channie gave it to me last night. In fact, we all looked through it. Had a nice little laugh. The guys will definitely thank you for the fun night." He smirked, the devastation on your face pleasing him incredibly. He put on a mock face of surprise at your expression.

"Wow, is this some sort of surprise for you? Did you really think he had feelings for you? I'm sorry, but he was just using you, darling. He's always been in love with Miyoung, and he was just using you to get her."

The nonchalance with which he uttered those words was throwing you off as you tried to understand.

No...

This couldn't be happening...was what he said true? You felt your heart breaking slowly, completely as the image of Chan laughing at the contents of your book with his friends came to mind, tears springing to your eyes as it sunk in. He'd been using you, all this time? But...his smile, the kiss...it had all felt so fucking genuine.

Minho's expression turned incredulous as he noticed your tears. "Wait, are you crying? Bitch, you don't deserve to cry." He spat, holding the book up to you and shaking it slightly.

"Now that those little truths are out of the way." He cleared his throat. "Tell me where the fuck it is."

Wait, what? Confusion filled your face as Minho glared at you, his tone growing angrier.

"I don't know...what you're talking about." You said slowly, cowering as he raised his eyebrows, scoffing again.

"The money." He said sharply. "Tell me where the money is. Cause I know your father most definitely hid it in this pathetic book."

Your dad? The confusion quickly became more potent as you stared up at Minho, his expression twisted with such pure wrath that it caught you off-guard.

"How do you...I- w-what?"

"Don't play dumb." He gritted his teeth. "Don't act all innocent and pretend to not know what your fucking father did to my family."

"I-" you narrowed your eyes, lip trembling as you spoke. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

The sky was darkening.

"Looks like I need to spell it out for you." Minho inhaled deeply, looking up before looking down at you again.

"Your father stole all my mother's money before leaving us." His voice shook a little as your eyebrows knitted together. "He left her destitute and pregnant, with a little boy to support. And then he had the balls to go and fucking die. Sound familiar?"

The words sunk into your head, like teeth. Your brain couldn't comprehend what he was saying properly and you opened your mouth, your voice stuck in your throat.

You couldn't believe it. He was your dad's stepson? The child you'd seen in the faded photos your dad had sent you of his shining, amazing new family?

It was starting to rain. The drops of water came down on the two of you, not entirely soaking you thanks to the tree above. The air was icy, and your teeth chattered- out of nervousness or the cold, you didn't know.

"So now, all I want to know is where the money he took is. I've searched this stupid book inside and out, but it's nowhere. So you tell me where it is."

"W-why would it be in my book?" You asked quietly, the implications of what Minho was saying overwhelming you beyond compare. You'd never really put much thought into your father's new family, having just seen a few old photos of them. Somehow it all made sense, and at the same time didn't.

"I know he made this book. It's the only heirloom he left for you. I know because he made the same one for my little sister, before he up and left. When I saw you with it at the cafeteria, I knew you were his daughter. And I just- I assumed it would be in here-" his voice was starting to break as he scrunched his eyes shut, realizing how far-fetched this was.

"I...M-minho...I haven't seen my dad since I was 9. I don't know where the money is. I'm..." You swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry he screwed up your family like he did mine. There's nothing I can do about it." You mumbled, looking down and avoiding his gaze.

His eyes softened a little as he let go of you, stepping back slightly and letting out a shaky sigh. He tossed the book to you and you caught it, looking up at him and his distressed expression. He'd known it was a bit of a reach- this whole thing was. Always had been. But he'd been desperate. He'd chased after this long shot of a theory ever since he laid eyes on you for the first time, writing in that book. The sudden self-loathing he felt was blinding as he realized what he’d done.

Minho turned to you. "I...I saw you leaving my house today. So you were the tutor Mom was talking about?"

"Yeah." Everything was slowly sinking in as your heart was still thudding. You understood why Dea's mom had looked so familiar. You'd seen her in the photos. Of course she'd been heavily pregnant then, a glow in her eyes that just wasn't there now.

"So you...you really hadn't seen him again since he left you? When he left us, he wrote a note. Said he was going back to his old family." He tilted his head at you, running a hand through his hair and baring his vulnerability. It was tiring having had to hide it for so long.

"No. He must have...must have died before he could. Or he was just lying. He wasn't always the most honest man in the world."

"You could say that." He shook his head, sighing as he went back over to the bench, flopping down on it and burying his head in his hands, not wanting to look at you. The guilt wrecking him was overwhelming, and he felt his heart shake.

You hesitated a little before going over and sitting next to him. He looked up at you, and you noticed small tears mixing with the raindrops running down his face.

"I'm...really sorry." He said in a small voice. "I was angry at him and I took it out on you." He looked back down at his lap, his eyebrows furrowing. "My childhood was spent trying to support my mom and my little sister. I guess I didn't stop to think about the fact that he did the same to you. Left you alone." He mumbled, his tone genuine.

You nodded, sighing and staring at your hands. "I...can forgive you, Minho. I understand the pain."

"I was just so...so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't even know why I thought that the money would be with you. I...fuck, I was an absolute asshole, wasn't I?" He said, tone filling with anger directed towards himself as he sat up.

You shrugged. "Well, I won't deny you were. But I guess you had a good reason." You said softly, thoughtfully humming. Maybe you were forgiving him too soon, but to be honest, your heart wasn't build to hold grudges. The boy next to you looked devastated enough.

"So...isn't Dea my sister, too?" Your mind swam as you realized you'd already met your half sister and hadn't even known it.

"Yeah. She would be excited to know she has a sister. She's always wanted one. Says I'm too serious for her." He laughed, smiling at you before clearing his throat and looking away.

There was a silence for a few minutes as the two of you let everything wash away with the rain. Both your hearts were still pounding from the heavy truths you'd learnt...but there was an odd sense of peacefulness filling you, now.

The same man had messed with the both of you, ruined your families. You'd come to terms with what he'd done, but Minho clearly hadn't. You were still surprised how easy forgiving him had been, especially after everything that he'd done.

The regret filling him was immense. Minho looked over at you, and slowly he decided to shift closer until your thighs were touching. Your clothes were wet, but neither of you could bring yourself to care. He slowly put his arm on the bench behind you.

There was a sense of comfort from knowing the two of you shared a reason to be fucked up. Sighing, you let your head rest on his shoulder.

Calm, finally.

***

Chan walked through the rain, not wanting to stop his search for you despite the heavy downpour. His clothes were soaked through as he made his way to the park, knowing it was probably where you were if you weren't at your own house.

As he made his way to your bench, he mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. Hi, I lost the book you value more than life itself at a football game- fuck, he'd really messed up this time.

As Chan walked on the path to the lake, he frowned as he noticed two figures on the bench the two of you always sat on. Shit, maybe you weren't here after all.

However as he came closer, his heart thudding impossibly loud, he realized he recognized the heads.

It was you and Minho, looking awfully close as your head rested on his shoulder, the two of you looking at the lake even as the rain poured down on you.

Chan felt his throat dry up completely as he stood there, feeling the betrayal hit him squarely in the chest and almost forgetting how to breathe.

Turning around, his expression stiff, he walked away as quickly as he could, thankful for the rain in that moment. He wouldn't cry, not over you.

He couldn't believe he'd been foolish enough to let you in. At the end of the day, he was destined to be miserable. Nothing could save him, and he winced as his heart leaked, slowly emptying itself of you, and all the memories he had of you.

Happiness was a fucking scam, and he was glad he realized it sooner than never.

***

You adjusted Minho's jacket around you as you waited for your mom to open the door. It was still raining heavily, and you were entirely soaked.

You still wanted to talk to Minho, and ask him a few more questions. Even more than that, you were excited to see Dea again. A sister. You finally had a sister, and an amazing one too at that. The girl was a sweetheart, and she really was a mini-you, now that you thought about it...

The rain had forced you to separate ways though. You scrolled through your phone out of boredom, shivering.

You checked your texts, frowning as you noticed the absurd amount of messages your mom had sent you. Wow, she’d been really intent on contacting you...was something wrong?

Worry growing, you knocked on the door extra hard, letting out a relieved sigh as the door was finally opened.

You'd had your fair share of shocks since the morning. However, nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

Your mother opened the door quickly, peeking outside before ushering you in. As you entered the house, you swallowed as you noticed the amount of boxes and cartons that were lying around.

"I..mom? What is going on?" You asked, frowning as you watched her dart around in a hurry, dumping things into random boxes.

"Y/n, change and get ready, quick. Come on, we don't have much time-"

"What? Why? What's...what's happening?" You asked, clutching your saddlebag tighter as she went from one room to the other, tossing nearly all of your belongings into the assorted brown boxes littered around.

"What's happening is we're moving. And we have to do it right now." She glanced around. "I may have gotten into some... trouble. Thankfully my new boyfriend has a place up north, so we'll be fine-" she continued rambling, causing you to tune her out as you swore.

You felt tears prick your eyes. You wanted to burst out, the anger and sadness clawing at your throat insufferably. There was no way this was actually happening. Just when things were coming together a little bit...and now she wanted to uproot you again?

In all these years though, you'd come to realize that sometimes, there was just no other option.

Sometimes, you just had to accept the hard truths without complaints.

***

You sat in your mom's car as she drove, knowing better than to ask her what exactly the problem was. You stared at your phone, yearning to call Chan.

Don't, Y/n. You deserve better.

In the midst of all the revelations Minho had brought forth, you'd completely forgotten about the first truth Minho had let you in on.

Chan had been...using you. To get Miyoung. Unfortunately, you couldn't say it had come as a surprise. In the beginning, you'd noticed his lingering gazes on her, the way his demeanor changed every time she was around. After all, who wouldn't like Miyoung? She was lovable and sweet. Nothing like you.

But...but it had all seemed so real. How could he have been faking it the whole time?

You finally threw all caution to the wind, dialling his number and sighing when it went straight to voicemail.

Your heart was still broken, but that didn't mean you were going to be a complete asshole and disappear from his life without notice.

You started off just telling him you were leaving. However, you couldn't just...stop. There was unfinished business between the two of you.

You took a deep breath and decided to recite the love poem you'd written for him in the book, omitting the last sentence and sighing.

"I guess we were just not meant to be, after all. Thanks for everything, though. For just a while, you made me feel like I belonged."

And with that, you dropped your phone next to you, staring out at the raindrops running down the car window. The tears were making a reappearance, but at this point you couldn't bring yourself to give a fuck.

Something told you tears were going to be a regular occurrence from now on.

***

Note: Act 1 is over. Act 2 will commence from the next chapter, and there will be a time-skip of a few years.

#chan angst #bang chan angst #minho angst #chan fluff #chan smut #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #chris smut #minho fluff #skz series #felix fluff #skz x reader #chan x reader #kpop imagines #skz imagines #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff

[heavenlyhaechan]

A Fateful Delay

Pairing: Jaehyun x Gn!Reader 

Genre: friends to strangers to lovers au, fluff, 

Word Count: 4.1k 

Warnings: swearing, kissing, lots of dialogue 

Rating: PG-13? 

Note: Happy birthday nct aquarius boy 5/5! Forewarning I am an amateur tarot reader, so if it’s not entirely accurate *shrugs* Heavily inspired by Jaehyun’s I like me better cover video. (p.s. you’re a real one if you recognize the book quotes.) 

Gate 26, gate 26, gate 26, you repeated in your head, not confident that your half awake mind wouldn’t forget. Heathrow airport was still quite empty at this hour, with only a few other stragglers hanging about. 6:00 am wasn’t exactly the most desirable time for a flight after all. 

Here it is, you sighed in relief when you saw a crowd still waiting to board the early flight. You looked down to check that you had your boarding pass before looking up and suddenly being transported back to an older time. 

“Jaehyun,” you said it without thinking, prompting him to look up from his phone and make eye contact with you. Recognition flashed across his face almost immediately, along with something else you couldn't quite place. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you reached him, setting your backpack down on the bench beside him. 

“I’ve been studying here,” he said. “What about you?” 

“Just traveling. I’ve been in Europe for,” you paused to count in your head. “A little over two months now.” 

“Alone?” 

“Mostly, yeah.” 

He whistled. “That’s pretty impressive.” 

“It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure.” 

You lapsed into silence, your mind still reeling with the fact that you had run into Jaehyun here of all places. And as coincidences like this didn’t happen very often, you quickly resigned yourself to the fact that you would probably never see him again. 

Except…

“Flight 2491 from London Heathrow to Incheon International Airport has been delayed 18 hours,” a nasally voice announced over the speaker. Groans erupted all around you as they continued. “Boarding will commence at 12:00 am. If you have any questions or wish to board another flight please come to the front desk. Thank you and have a good day.” 

Jaehyun sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. 

“Good thing I checked my bag,” he said as though he was trying to find a glimpse of good in the situation. You nodded emphatically. 

“I was just thinking the same thing.” 

“You know what I need now?” 

“What?” 

“Coffee.” 

——

Once you’d left the airport the two of you entered the first cafe you could find. Unlike Heathrow, this was it’s busiest time of the day. You looked around as you waited, observing the artwork and the office workers that came and went without a second glace in your direction. They must be used to tourists. 

“Does this place have a bookstore?” you asked as you peered past the espresso machines. You repeated your question to the barista when you reached the front of the line, and learned that yes, there was a bookstore just down the hall. 

“Lets go,” you said once you’d ordered. 

“Now?” 

“When else?” 

“You go,” he said. “I’ll wait for our coffee.” 

——

The bookstore was even quieter than the airport, with not a soul to be seen but your own. You ran your finger along the bookcases as you explored, the rough texture and musty scent of the books making you feel at home. Jaehyun found you sitting on the carpeted floor in the aisle between two bookcases, a stack of hardcovers next to you. 

“Watcha doing?” he asked as he handed you your coffee and sat down next to you. 

“Let me read you some of my favorite lines,” you said in place of an answer. 

“Didn’t we read that in high school?” Jaehyun asked as you picked The Sun Also Rises from the top of the pile. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Junior year.” 

Eventually you found the page you were looking for and read the line: “I can’t stand it to think my life is going so fast and I’m not really living it.” 

“Damn,” he sighed. 

You nodded. “That’s why I decided to come here. To Europe I mean.” 

You picked up the next book. 

“Okay here’s another one. ‘Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you go on even though you’re scared.’” 

“How are you finding these so fast?” Jaehyun asked, dimples appearing on his cheeks as he smiled. 

“I’ve probably read them too many times,” you laughed along with him, ripping your eyes away from the ever endearing marks. 

A minute later: “We accept the love we think we deserve.” 

“Ouch.” 

You laughed again, and he forced himself to smile with you. 

“Okay last one. ‘That’s what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway. Don’t you believe in true love?’” 

“Do you?” 

“What?” 

“Believe in true love.” 

“Yeah, don’t you?” 

He sipped his coffee as he considered the question. 

“Yes,” he said finally. “I just don’t think I’ll ever find it.” 

You were taken aback by that. Jung Jaehyun had always been one of the most desirable people you knew, and from what you could tell the last six years had done nothing but make him even more so. But maybe that wasn’t what mattered. 

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Jaehyun interrupted your thoughts. 

“What? Love?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I mean yeah I guess so, but isn’t true love worth the fear?” 

Jaehyun smiled again at that, nodding quietly as his gaze moved to focus on the floor between you. You weren’t sure if the nod meant yes, but it brought an end to the conversation anyway. 

——

As the morning turned into midday the two of you found yourselves in a quieter part of town. The sky had begun to darken as you walked and it casted a looming shadow over the street, filling you with a strange sense of foreboding. 

Soon enough raindrops began to fall, creating dark spots on the concrete beneath your feet. You ducked into the first shop you could find for shelter, not paying any attention to the signs posted outside. Thus you were surprised to see the crystal balls, tarot decks, and palm reading books laid out on the tables inside. 

Incense filled the air, and midnight blue and royal purple drapes were hung along the walls, highlighted by shimmering golds and silvers. A woman stood at the counter wearing colors to match. Other than her the store was empty, which didn’t surprise you considering the fact that it was late morning on a Monday in February. Not exactly the height of tourist season. 

“Welcome,” the woman said, her voice soft and silvery. “Are you looking for something in particular today?” 

“Uh, no,” you looked back at Jaehyun. 

“We were just escaping the rain,” he finished for you. 

“Well then, perhaps you’d be interested in a reading?” 

You felt bad for seeking refuge from the rain but not buying anything, so you agreed. You followed her to the back of the shop with Jaehyun close on your heels. An embroidered curtain was pushed to the side to reveal a small table with a few chairs scattered around it. 

“Please take a seat,” she said as she pulled a deck of tarot cards from a drawer in the table. You and Jaehyun sat next to each other on the side closest to the curtain, and she sat across from you. 

“So, I want you to think of a question,” she said as she began to shuffle the cards. “It could be about anything really, but please make sure that it’s clear and specific.”

You played with your hands where they rested in your lap, feeling quite put on the spot. 

“Take your time,” she smiled at you. 

Your mind came up with and then discarded a million questions as the seconds ticked by, but eventually you settled on one. 

“Our uh, flight was delayed this morning,” you explained. “Do you, or do the cards think that it was delayed for a reason?” 

“Hmm,” she nodded in understanding. First she split the deck in three, then put it back together as a whole in no obvious order, before finally beginning to place the cards on the table. 

“Let’s see,” she pondered, looking down at the cards she’d laid out. First she pointed to the world and high priestess cards, both reversed on the table before you.“It looks as though you lack closure, likely because of some feelings that you’ve repressed or kept hidden.” Next she pointed to the hermit and the ace of swords. “But you are searching for the truth, which will soon lead to a breakthrough that will provide you with clarity.” 

Now she pointed to the page of wands. “You have been exploring recently, or maybe you still are.” Next to the knight of wands and the knight of cups. “You are fearless right now, and are ready to follow your heart. This will lead to new beginnings,” the fool, “dreams come true,” the ten of cups, “and a unique and deep partnership,” the lovers. 

“Taking all of this into consideration, I’d say that yes, it did happen for a reason,” she finished. And although you weren’t one to believe in the superstitious, when she looked up at you with a twinkle in her eye you had a feeling she knew something that you didn’t. 

——

Your stomach grumbled as you left the store, which made you realize that you hadn’t actually had a proper meal all day. You hadn’t had time on your way to the airport that morning, and coffee didn’t exactly count as food. 

Like he could read your mind Jaehyun pointed out a fish and chips place nearby. It was lunchtime, so the place was bustling. Nevertheless you were quickly escorted to a booth made of dark wood with faux leather seats. It had been placed near a window looking out on the street you had just left behind. 

Music played through speakers, battling the rowdy conversation of your fellow diners. Your still complaining stomach prompted you to order without much consideration, confident that you were hungry enough to enjoy whatever you were served. 

“Do you believe everything she said back there?” Jaehyun asked as you waited for your food, his nail tracing a crack in the table. 

“Yeah?” you phrased it as a question, watching as the group next to you was served. “I mean I wouldn’t usually, but a lot of what she said rang true.” 

You lapsed into silence again, and you noticed a newfound awkwardness filling the space between you. An awkwardness that had nothing to do with the time that had passed since you’d last seen each other. You couldn’t stand the feeling, and so no matter how out of character it was for you, you felt that you needed to disrupt it somehow. So you said the thing that had been dancing around in the back of your mind since you’d first laid eyes on Jaehyun that morning. 

“I liked you in high school you know.” 

“Oh. You did.” He tilted his head, the look in his eyes hard to decipher. It wasn’t a question but you answered anyway. 

“Yeah well I mean everyone probably liked you at some point, but,” you bit your tongue, already regretting your words. 

“So you liked me because everyone else did?” 

“No! I liked you a lot more than everyone else did.”

You only registered the teasing lilt in his voice after you’d finished blurting out the confession, and you felt your whole body go hot as the smile dropped from his face. The pause felt like it lasted for centuries because of your embarrassment. 

“Why?” he asked eventually. 

“Why what?” 

“Did you like me.” 

“Um,” you fiddled with your paper napkin to focus your thoughts. You second guessed yourself yet again. Were you really going to spill your guts to him now, here, after all this time? 

Fuck it. When else? 

“It always seemed to me like you didn’t care what anyone else thought of you, but not in a high and mighty way, you just minded your own business. Everyone either wanted to be you, or be with you in high school, but you didn’t let it affect you. It never got to your head, and you were always equally kind to everyone no matter what.” 

Your eyes didn’t leave your hands the entire time you talked. Your fingers shredded your napkin methodically, too embarrassed to even imagine looking him in the eye ever again. 

“Plus, you’re not bad to look at,” you said with your last ounce of confidence, before descending back into silence. 

Luckily you didn’t need to say anything else, as just then your server arrived with your food. You dug in despite your now roiling nerves, still too scared to look up. If you had, you would have seen the fond look in Jaehyun’s eyes, and the way his dimples couldn’t seem to be tamed. 

——

After lunch you walked across the Thames, but were eventually forced to make way for two small children zipping by on their scooters, their faces both full of pure and unadulterated joy. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them go by, remembering when things had been that simple for you too. 

“Do you want kids?” 

You don’t know why you’d asked. Maybe it was something about the way his eyes had sparkled when he’d moved for them to pass by, or the small smile that still graced his face almost a minute later. 

“Me?” he laughed a little after he said it, knowing full well that he was the only person around for you to ask. “I…yeah.” 

You nodded, not particularly inclined to say anything more, but he went on anyway. 

“Sometimes I think about like, having a house with a big yard, and a dog, and some kids, and just all the people I love with me,” he trailed off. “I guess it sounds kinda cliche to say it out loud.” 

“A little,” you chuckled lightheartedly even as your heart leaped in your chest. “But I know what you mean.” 

——

Soon enough you stumbled upon a covered market set up along the river selling everything from clothes, to records, to furniture. You wandered into the clothes section while Jaehyun browsed the rows of records. 

Eventually you found a mirror and started trying on the most ridiculous accessories you could find. Jaehyun found you adorned with a lime sunhat, sparkling ruby red glasses, and a fluffy green absinthe scarf. 

“Why does that kind of work?” he chuckled as he looked you up and down. 

“Complementary colors,” you said simply, trying to ignore the way his eyes surveyed your figure. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were serious. They took you in like you were a statue in a museum, something to treat delicately and with reverence. 

“I had an idea,” he said as you began to shed your layers of color and ludicrous. 

“What kind of idea?” 

“I thought maybe we could pick something from all of this,” he waved his arms around, gesturing to the market around you, “and buy it for each other.” 

“Like a secret santa?” 

“Kinda, yeah.” 

“Okay,” you nodded. “Meet back here in say, twenty minutes?” 

“Sure.” 

You set off in opposite directions, not wanting to spy on each other’s search and spoil your own present. Twenty minutes later you met back up where you’d started, before quickly deciding that you needed to find somewhere to sit while you shared what you’d bought. You chose a loveseat in the middle of the furniture section, it’s surface made of navy blue linen. 

“You first,” Jaehyun said once he’d made himself comfortable next to you. 

“Okay but fair warning, this is kind of dumb,” you said before pulling a white mug from behind your back. On its surface was painted a singular peach hued letter J. 

“I just had to,” you laughed, relief filling you at the look of amusement on his face as he took it in his hands. “You can use it when you get that house you were talking about.” 

His smile softened at that, and he looked up at you with a genuine look of gratitude. “I love it. Seriously. Is it weird how much I love it?” 

You laughed again, your cheeks aching with delight. 

“Okay my turn,” Jaehyun turned serious again as he leaned down to carefully tuck the cup into his bag. When he straightened up he had a record in his hands. Taking it from him you saw that it was the self titled Hozier album from 2014. 

“I remembered that it was your favorite album in high school so I uh, yeah,” he trailed of as you looked back up at him, your eyes as big and sparkling as the full moon. 

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Yeah well, maybe I liked you a little bit in high school too.” 

Your stomach dropped at his words and you forced yourself to swallow back your surprise. 

“Really?” you managed to get out, desperately searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But when he nodded you found nothing but nerves at his years awaited confession. 

——

Eventually the two of you found yourselves in a sprawling garden backed by a row of old Victorian houses. Wide walkways created borders between garden beds full of both familiar and unrecognizable plants, the air full of their sweet scent. 

You split off to wander on your own for a while before meeting back up at a bench near the back of the garden. Jaehyun presented you with a one of spring’s first daffodils when you reached him, and you bit down on your bottom lip hard as he tucked it behind your ear. 

“I bet a lot of people get married here,” he mused a while later, arms propped up on the back of the bench. 

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

The foolish part of you let your mind imagine yourself having a wedding here. As your eyes traced the slope of his nose you wondered who would be in attendance, what food would be served, what you would be wearing. 

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen for us to run into each other this morning?” Jaehyun asked. “Like I never thought I’d ever see you again, and even if I did I thought it would be at a reunion or something.” 

“And what if our flight hadn’t been delayed?” you considered. You knew what would’ve happened. You would have gotten on that plane without speaking another word to each other. Maybe a brief goodbye in Incheon, but that was certainly the very most. And then you would go your separate ways yet again, passing it off as an innocent coincidence. 

“I’m glad it was,” he said as though, yet again, he could read your mind. Or maybe he was just thinking the same thing. 

The sun was setting now and his face was lit up by its fiery glow. It turned his deep brown eyes gold and his cheeks rosy. His lips were parted the tiniest bit, like they were trying to grasp onto a word that he couldn’t quite remember. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” you asked. 

“Like you,” his jaw clenched as he paused, eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Like you could fall in love with me,” he finished finally. 

“Maybe I already have.” 

He ripped his eyes from the setting sun in favor of looking at you. The corners of his lips were down turned, and his eyes were set in shadow. You decided you liked them better this way, twin pools of warmth that you could fall into and stay in comfort forever. 

“Would it be crazy if I kissed you right now?” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, your lungs not working quite the way they were supposed to. “But you should do it anyway.” 

And so he leaned forward that left over inch, and your lips melded together like honey in the golden light of the sun as it sunk beneath the horizon. 

——

As night fell upon the city you decided you needed something sweet to end your day. You ended up at a diner near the center of the city, with milkshakes and french fries set on the table between you. You dipped one into your shake and then huffed out a laugh as Jaehyun grimaced. 

“It’s good!” you defended yourself. “At least try it before you judge me.” 

“Fine.” 

He reached forward and dipped a fry into his vanilla milkshake before popping it into his mouth. He considered carefully, eyes never once leaving yours. 

“Okay I admit, it’s pretty good.” 

You cried out victoriously before he’d even finished his sentence properly, pumping your fists in the air. It was Jaehyun’s turn to laugh now, the indent of his dimples enchanting you for the thousandth time that day. 

“Do you think,” Jaehyun began, spinning the shiny silver spoon in his cup around in circles. 

“Hm?” 

“Are you…happy?” 

You blinked. As an adult people would always ask you how your career was going, if you were married, or if you’d bought a house yet, as if life was some kind of grocery list where you had to check off each item in order for you to be complete. He was the first to ask if you were happy. 

“I think so,” you leaned down and took another sip of your milkshake to give yourself a chance to think. “I’m not unhappy,” you decided after a moments thought. 

“You know what makes me happy?” he asked next. 

“What?” 

“You.” 

You stared at him, your mind reeling. A thousand thoughts came to you, but none of them expressed quite what you were feeling. But maybe words weren’t what you needed right now. 

You reached across the table, pushing your cups and fries out of the way until you could lean forward free of any obstructions. He met you halfway without you needing to do or say a thing. 

This time he tasted sweet and salty, like adventure and familiarity all wrapped into one. Fireworks erupted behind your eyelids as you kissed, disrupting the calm darkness you usually found there. When you pulled away you became starkly aware of the countless eyes on you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The only eyes you cared about were the chocolate ones looking straight into yours. 

As you sat back down you noticed the flower that had fallen from behind your ear and on to the table top. Jaehyun noticed it at the same time as you, and carefully he reached forward to pick it up and twirl it between his fingers absentmindedly. 

“One of the classes I took while I was here,” he started. “It was just for fun, an extra credit course you know. And at some point we talked about the language of the flowers.” 

You watched the flower spin, a yellow blur under the diner’s fluorescent lights. It was mesmerizing, or maybe you were just tired. 

“Do you know what the daffodil’s meaning is?” he asked. 

You shook your head. 

“Unequalled love.” 

——

You reached gate 26 for the second time that day with nearly half an hour left until midnight. Some of your fellow voyagers sat around in groups, some by themselves. Some lay across the airport benches like cats trying to enjoy their midday nap. There were tired eyes everywhere you looked. 

You, on the other hand, felt more awake than you had all day. None of it had felt real, passing more like a dream than real life. You had been tempted to pinch yourself several times that day, and now you finally decided to submit to the urge. You pushed back the sleeve covering your left arm and gave the skin underneath a quick pinch, if only to confirm that you were indeed corporeal. 

You sucked in a short breath at the small tinge of pain, but then smiled at the ground at the confirmation that everything that had happened today was in fact real, and not just a figment of your overactive imagination. Jaehyun looked over at you with curious eyes at the small sound. You shook your head at the unspoken question, preferring to not indulge exactly how surreal all of this felt. 

“What’s your seat number,” you asked instead. 

“Uhhh,” Jaehyun rummaged around in his bag for a second before pulling out his boarding pass. “32F. How about you?” 

“32G.” 

You stared at each other for a second before Jaehyun burst out laughing. 

“You’re telling me that our seats were next to each other this whole time?” 

“I think so,” you looked down at your boarding pass once more before joining in on Jaehyun’s disbelieving laughter. 

“Well would you look at that,” Jaehyun said, pulling your right hand into his lap and squeezing it gently. “I guess this really was fate.” 

#kpopficsnetwork #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun reactions #jaehyun fluff #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct u #jaehyun fanfic #nct fanfic #nct 127 reactions #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines

[uwuwriting]

The writings on his skin Shinsou Soulmate au

Soulmate au with communication via writing on their skin.

Oh god this is bad, I’m not happy with it at all. My original draft got deleted and I had to rewrite this at 2 am and I’m dead. I didn’t proof read it because I swear I’m gonna pass out so I’m so terribly sorry for butchering this. I love Hitoshi to the moon and back I hope he has the most wonderful birthday I LOVE HIM. Hope this doesn’t suck that much. Love ya. 💖💖💖💖💖

Rules 

warnings: mentions of bullying, some angst, fluff

When Hitoshi was young he used to believe in soulmates. He couldn’t wait to meet the person that would fit him like a puzzle piece. In the early age of five, Shinsou Hitoshi was filled with positivity and hope. Hope that in the future he would get to enjoy all the things he liked with someone special. 

He was so excited for the first day of school. some of the kids from his neighborhood would be in his class; they didn’t like him they were really afraid of his quirk and would make fun of him all the time, but he didn’t care. He would make new friends and just ignore them. Stepping into the classroom he was met with about 18 new faces. 18 possible friends. A smile spread across his face as he made eye contact with one of the kids. The boy was playing with some LEGOs as Hitoshi made his way to him. 

“Hi I’m Shin-”

“AHH IT’S THE MONSTER!!!” the boy cried out as he stumbled backwards putting a respectful distance between them. The whole class turned to look at them and one by one all the kids slowly took a step back. They were all afraid of him. They all wanted nothing to do with him. They-they.

“He’s a villain!!!”

“Someone call All Might!!!!” 

More children joined the mocking and the cries for help. A group of boys, two of which he knew, walked up to him growls leaving their mouths as -even though Hitoshi was a tall child- they towered over him. Pushing him to the ground, one of them snatched his backpack emptying the contents on him before throwing it at a corner of the room. 

“Villains are not allowed here! Jihiko-sensei will kick you out, villain!” Right on cue, Jihiko-sensei stepped into the room, her eyes landing immediately at his wide eyed face and trembling form. 

“Boys that’s rude!” grabbing his backpack she started putting back his scattered supplies.“Apologise to Shinsou right now!”

Reluctantly the four boys bowed their heads, mumbling an apology before rising their noses up in the air and walking away, leaving a terrified Hitoshi on the floor. 

During the first day of school he knew that he wouldn’t be getting new friends and with that his doubts of even having a soulmate bloomed to life. 

Middle school was not as bad as elementary. He had gotten used to the teasing and the name calling. He couldn’t say that it didn’t bother him; it really did but he had learned not to show it. Even now, years after that fateful first day in kindergarten, he had no friends. All of them pushed him away, some more politely than others, leaving the word ‘villain’ lumming over their heads as they turned him down. He was fine though. No soulmate mark had appeared but at this point he couldn’t really be disappointed. After all, someone like him -a monster, a villain- didn’t deserve to have a soulmate.

It was a normal day in his boring middle school. So boring that Hitoshi had turned to doodling on his arm. It was not a habit, he hadn’t done it before since he saw the doodles as tattoos and he didn’t want to give others more reasons to call him evil. Plus he liked his arms clean. But he was bored and it was hot and he wasn’t functioning correctly. At some point during his history class, he fell asleep. He woke up to a light tickling sensation running up his arm and a dim shine appeared on a spot near his wrist. 

‘You can’t draw….’ 

He blinked once, twice expecting the words to disappear but they didn’t. They didn’t fade, they were real. Bold black letters stared back at him as he marveled at the sight. He … he had a soulmate and he could actually speak to them. Snapping out of his trance he scrambled for a pen and thought of a response. He didn’t wanna seem desperate. Deciding on sarcasm he wrote beside their own message. 

‘Well excuse me Picasso’

 He waited for a response for what felt like centuries. This was amazing, incredible, astonishing all of those long pretty words writers use to describe their female characters in poems. Would they want to meet him? Did they live nearby? Were they the same age? So many questions swirled inside his head he almost missed the mandala pattern that appeared on his wrist. The design became more vibrant and visible as the minutes ticked by. It was beautiful. 

‘What’s your favorite color?’

‘Purple….why?’

‘Be patient sweet soulmate of mine, you’ll see.’ 

His heart skipped a beat. Oh lord he hadn’t even met them yet and he was already getting butterflies in his stomach. Slowly purple highlights started to appear on his skin, matching the black outlines perfectly. They truly were a Picasso. 

‘There now you have true art on your hand.’

‘Confident are we?’

‘Only when it comes to inter-soulmate communications.’ 

He liked them. He knew that from the first moment. A smile took its place on his face as he saw new letters forming on his skin, warmth blooming in his chest as he stared at their conversation. Soulmate...maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all. 

UA High. This is it. He was finally here. A place where heroes were made. It’s his time to show all those pesky brats that called him a villain that he could be a hero. A fine one at that. Getting placed in the general department was a disappointment and kind of a let down. He thought he did well on the exam. Apparently, having a grape quirk was more hero material than his brainwash. He wasn’t fazed though and neither was his soulmate. They hadn’t stopped speaking since their first conversation back in middle school. His day would start with a small, sloppy good morning scribbled on his wrist. They were there for him whenever he needed someone to rant to and he was always their shoulder to cry on. Well inky shoulder? They had agreed to keep their identities a secret along with their gender leaving everything to the hands of fate. 

‘She shall bring us together, babe.’ They always called him that, not that he minded. 

‘Well she should hurry up kitten.’ And he in return he given them that pet name. They never complained. He hadn’t mentioned which school he applied to, only that he would be becoming a hero. So when they mentioned something about a Bakugou Katsuki he was intrigued. 

‘Yeah he is in my class. Super annoying 0/10 would not recommend.’

 They went to the same school. What a coincidence. Maybe fate did work fast. Choosing his next words wisely he replied. 

‘So you are in class 1-A huh? Funny.’

‘How do you know that?????’

‘I’m in the general department that’s why.’

There was no response for some time. He knew Aizawa was a harsh teacher when it came to discipline, he gets a taste of his discipline every afternoon at six,  so he didn’t write anything else. Later that day, during his training, the familiar tingle distracted him. Glancing down on his arm, he totally missed Aizawa’s capture tool coming straight for his leg. Before he knew it, he was swiped off his feet and started hanging upside down from a branch of a nearby tree. 

“You are distracted Shinsou!” Aizawa sighed below him. Hitoshi read the message quickly before turning his attention back to his teacher. 

“I’m sorry Aizawa-sensei.” 

“Yeah yeah just don’t be like that during your training with my class. You remember that it starts tomorrow right?” Aizawa said as he got him down, letting him fall with a loud thud. 

“Yes sensei I know.”

“Great, now go get some rest I don’t want you passing out the moment you step in the forest.” 

Shinsou had never gathered his things quicker. Draping his jacket over his shoulders he sprinted to his dorm, an idea forming in his mind. He didn’t know if you wanted to meet him yet but he sure as hell wanted to see you. Grabbing a pen from his desk he scribbled under your previous message. 

‘Can you draw one of your mandalas on my wrist?’ 

Y/N was late. Like super late. She had missed her first alarm and had only gotten up because of the pounding at her door. She had stayed up the previous night drawing something for her soulmate. She kept messing up and redoing her work one too many times. Reaching her classroom she slid the door open and tiptoed to her seat seeing as Aizawa-sensei hadn’t gotten out of his sleeping back yet. Sitting down she let out a sigh of relief as her friend leaned over to her. 

“Late night with your soulmate???” She sang teasingly which only made Y/N roll her eyes. 

“Shut up Sky!” Soon they were instructed to put on their hero costumes and meet their homeroom teacher at the edge of the mini forest right in the outskirts of the school grounds. 

Skipping out of the girls locker room she looked down at her wrist where the mandala from last night looked back at her. She ran her fingers over the lines wishing she could see the design on the recipients skin.  

“Come on man! We’re gonna miss the intro move your ass!” Sky grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, ruining her moment of longing as they made their way to the forest. 

Aizawa-sensei was accompanied by another person. A boy almost at his height with vibrant purple hair and the most tired eyes Y/N had ever seen. He was staring at the class giving small nods when someone asked him something. 

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi. Most of you will know him from the sports festival, he fought the problem child.” Midoriya hid his face in his palms at the name. “He will be joining the hero course come next year so have fun training with him.”

Shinsou raised his hand to scratch his neck, a nervous habit Y/N concluded, when she saw the intertwining lines on his wrist. The purple stood out. It was more vibrant on her design, slightly losing it’s shine on his pale skin possibly because he received it. Was that? Was he? 

“Who wants to pair up with him?” at that her arm shot up instantly, without even thinking. Aizawa motioned for the rest of the students to find their partner as she made her way to him. He was taller up close, her head barely reaching his chin. Extending her drawn on hand she greeted him. 

“Y/N L/N, nice to finally meet you Shinsou.”

Bonus:

The house was quiet. Oddly quiet. Hitoshi let his bag drop next to the coat hanger as he took off his shoes. The TV could be heard playing from the living room but no voices accompanied it. Where was she? Making his way to the kitchen he found a bowl full with steaming soup that looked like it had just been made. He left it on the table, his first priority being to find the girl he was looking for. Slowly walking up the stair he heard a humming coming from the room down the hall. 

Once at the top he made his way to the pastel violet door, grasping the knob and pushing it open. He was met with the back of his soulmate, humming the soft tune he had heard earlier as she rocked steadily back and forth. The mess of purple hair on her shoulder raised its head revealing those stunning e/c eyes he adored so much. 

“Daddy…” the little girl in Y/N’s arms let out a low sleepy mumble. Turning around she saw her husband standing in the doorway of the nursery, a smile adorning his face as he looked at Kei. Kei, at the sight of her father, started doing grabbing motions trying to leave her mother’s embrace. Hitoshi let out a low chuckle as he took the two year old in his arms, letting her wrap her chubby arms around his neck and nuzzle into his neck. 

“Happy birthday Toshi.”

Shinsou Hitoshi could have never imagined he would be here today, holding his daughter as his soulmate stared back at him. He was happy, beyond happy actually. Words could not express. Extending an arm out to her, she took it tucking herself under his chin as one of her hands came to rest on the back of her baby. Kissing both of his girls, he squeezed them closer to him.  

 “Thank you kitten. For everything.”   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

#shinsou x reader #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou fluff #shinsou soulmate #happy birthday shinsou #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Just Friends

Request: "can u write one from luke's pov where he is madly in love with the reader but she's already got a boyfriend and he can't help but feel heartbroken knowing that he is just always going to be the readers best friend"

Word count: 5.1k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​ , @lcvischmitt​ , @ogmilkis​ , @goldenalvez​ , @ssa-morgan​ , @garcias-batcave​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @pinkdiamond1016​ , @yourwonderbelle​ , @rachelxwayne​ , @sc4rletw1tch​

Warnings: angst

A/N: I kept thinking of early season Jim and Pam when I wrote this so there’s def office inspiration in this fic!!!!

“Square up, Y/L/N, you’re going down.”

Luke hovered over your shoulder like a bug that just wouldn’t go away, muttering discouraging words into your ear, trying to distract you from the task at hand.  You had to admit he was doing a good job, because all you wanted to do was turn around and smack him, but you had to stay focused.  A bag of chips was on the line here.

You took a deep breath and pulled your arm back, nothing but sheer determination in your vision, and you let your paper airplane sail.  You watched as it flew through the air, coasting past the copier and fax machine, past the cluster of desks, past Luke’s airplane resting on the floor, until it hit the door to the break room and finally landed.

“Yes!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up in victory.  “I beat you by like four feet!”

Luke stares, stunned at how you managed to sail your paper airplane all the way across the office space, but nonetheless, hands you over a dollar to get your bag of chips from the vending machines.

“You really should stop betting on things with me, I always win—“ you gloat, as you both make your way into the break room.

Luke leans against the vending machine, watching you select your favorite bag from the top row.  “No way, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”  

You laugh, shaking your head at Luke’s remark before opening your bag of chips and heading back to your desk.  

Luke watches you go, that familiar sinking feeling becoming prevalent in his stomach, just like every other time you walk away.  He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his right state of mind.  He loved the friendship you two shared, but sometimes he needed a minute to stuff down all the thoughts running through his head, otherwise his undying love for you might just slip out one of these days.

The hardest part of Luke’s day was at five o’clock, when your boyfriend would meet you at the door and walk out to the parking lot with you.  Luke would smile and wave goodbye, pretending like it didn’t burn every fiber of his being watching you lace your fingers with his and smile into his side as you exited the building.  Then, he’d slowly gather his things and head to his own car, wishing you were at his side.  

…

You and Luke had been friends ever since you joined the BAU two years ago.  Two entire years, and Luke still swears it was the minute you walked in on your first day, a spot of dried toothpaste on your chin, that he fell completely in love with you.  

He spent that entire first week getting to know you, and the next planning out ways he could ask you out.  He’d never been more sure that he’d finally met the person he was meant to be with.  His soulmate, if you will.  Luke had been waiting in his car for your gray SUV to pull in one morning.   He planned on exiting at the same time as you, playing it off as a harmless coincidence, and then walking with you up to the third floor.  It was a cold December morning when he saw Sam for the first time.  Then of course he didn’t know his name.  He knew the man as someone driving you to work, with slim shoulders and a trimmed beard.  He leaned over the center console and planted a kiss right on your lips before making a U-turn and exiting the parking lot.  Luke had let his head drop and made a beeline for the door, trying his best to ignore you calling his name and the gut-wrenching dread he felt.  

That was two years ago, and Luke still hadn’t moved on.  How could he when you sat only feet away from him?  Spreading your infectious laugh and always being there to make him smile?  No, Luke hadn’t moved on.  Instead, he’d just learned to live with it.  He swallowed his feelings and instead focused on the friendship that you two shared, no matter how much it killed him inside.  It was always about more than friendship, and he knew it from the start. Even though that is what he loved most about you. Falling in love was quick, easy, inevitable. You would talk and laugh and be happy. If life is a series of moments, then it was those innocent instances that defined Luke for the longest time.

But falling also hurt.  You were his best friend. You told him everything, but he had to keep his biggest secret hidden from you.  On that first day, even if you didn’t remember it, he could see a future. Your future together. And for that split second he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to forget about the rest of the world and focus on you. But there was no messing this up. This was you, and it was really just complicated.

…

Luke sat in his car in the parking lot the next morning eating his breakfast and occasionally warming up his hands in front of the air vents. Just as he was finishing off his bagel, there was a soft knock on his window. It took him half a second to realize it was you; your coat was zipped up to your chin and your beige scarf covered most of your face. Luke quickly got out of his car and you both exchanged hellos in the still-dark parking lot.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asks, shivering a little in the cold winter air.

“Sam and I kind of had another spat last night and I wanted to get out before he woke up…" you trail off. Luke’s jaw clenches at the mention of his name.  ”What about you?“

“I have to make a call to the LA precinct first thing this morning.  if I don’t call him by 8am sharp, he said he couldn’t file the evidence we gathered while we were consulting there on time. I wanted to go over the case file before that.”

“So you got here before the sunrise?”

“It’s a big file,” Luke says with a smile.

You chuckle and then look over to the far end of the parking lot, “Hey, come with me.”

It was one of those commands Luke didn’t have to hear twice. He followed you, his hand in his pockets and his nose buried in his own scarf. You both walked over to the edge of the lot, and you stepped up on the curb, standing on your tip-toes. Luke furrowed his eyebrows.

“Come on, Luke,” you say playfully.

He laughed nervously before following your actions. He faced the direction you were facing and saw that through the fence there was a perfect view of the distant hills on the east side of the city. The sky was thick and dark blue and the hills looked outlined with gold. The sun began to peek over the horizon and the buildings in the horizon went from grays to a bright mixture of yellows and oranges.

Luke glanced over at you as you looked at the view, smiling wide, the sun hitting your eyes. Luke could never quite tell, your eyes always looked hazel and sadly dull in the florescent light of the office, but for the first time he saw their true color: a brilliant green with splashes of brown near the center.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you asked.

“Yeah, really is,” Luke says, still looking straight at you.

“We should go inside,” you said quietly, noticing his insistent stare from your corner view.  “I’m freezing.”

Luke nods, eyes lingering on the view a moment longer before he trails behind you inside the building.  

…

It's a habit, more than anything else, that has Luke lingering in the break room when he sees the tired lines in your face three days later. It’s instinct, to ask you if you want to talk. To take a seat at the table before he has a chance to consider the implications of what he’s just offered.

Besides, first and foremost, he’s your friend.

More than anything, he wants you to be happy.  And if there’s something he can do to ease the tension in your shoulders, to watch the frustrated crease in your brow fade back into familiar calm, then he will. Of course he will.

Being the one to elicit a smile from you is worth the cost of his own discomfort.

Patiently, he listens to your perspective on the misunderstanding between yourself and Sam, he tries to detach himself from the situation enough to give you the sort of sincere and thoughtful advice he’d extend to anyone in that position. But he doesn’t want your thanks — your gratitude that much worse because it’s genuine.  

Luke had served as the backboard for you since he met you.  He was always around to listen.  Maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed like you and Sam had been fighting more and more lately.  He hated seeing you upset on a daily basis in the break room and he tried to ignore the sliver of hope he felt inside.  

Apparently last night had been bad.  Luke can tell the minute he sees your puffy eyes and quivering lip.  

“What happened?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shrug, trying to be brave, but the tears fall anyway.  “He threw a glass at the wall next to me last night.  He was drunk… muttering about how he thought I was cheating on him.”

“Oh my god—“ Luke said, gut dropping as he imagined how scared you must have been in that moment.

“I don’t think he’d ever hurt me or anything.  But I was scared.”

“What’d you do?” he asks, taking the seat at the table across from you.

You curled your hands around your mug of coffee, “I left.  Went to my moms.  I think it’s over.  I mean, it has to be, right?”

Luke wants to blurt out a gigantic yes, but instead he empathetically furrows his brows and nods softly, “I definitely don’t like the idea of you being scared.” And without thinking, he reaches his hand across the table and touches yours softly.  

Your eyes shoot down to where your hands touch, all of a sudden you feel so nervous.  You pull back and drag your coffee mug to your chest.  

“I should get back to work.”

…

Luke has a hard time focusing the rest of the day.  It was over.  You said that.  It was over and maybe, just maybe, Luke had a chance here.  He’d be your friend first, of course.  Just like it’d always had been.  He wouldn’t rush you.  But now he had a chance to prove how much you truly meant to him.  He was elated.  Lighter and more hopeful than he’d felt in months.  

It all comes crashing down with the sound of the office door opening and closing. Luke’s fists clench at his side the minute he sees Sam walk through the doors.  He’s ready to get up and ward him off if necessary; the idea of him yelling at you makes his blood boil.  But he watches from his desk instead, as Sam makes his way to you, gently tapping your shoulder and whispering something in your ear.  

Your initial reaction is wide eyes, filled with what is that?  Fear?  It fades quickly, morphs into anger.  Then sympathy.  Luke watches as you grab your coat from the back of your chair and willingly follow him out of the office, through the door without looking back.  

…

“He apologized, and he really was just so sincere.  I think he really meant it.”

Luke nods and takes another swig of coffee, which wasn’t even warm now.  He cringes.  

“Sounds it,” he says dully.  Not even he can fake enhance the amount of enthusiasm in his voice.  

“What’s that?” you ask, offended by his dull tone.

He looks at you and raises an eyebrow.  Disappointment and anger and frustration all boiling under the surface of his skin after seeing you and Sam kissing in the parking lot again this morning, so he decides for the first time in a long time; to be honest.

“No, it’s just I’ve heard all of this before.  It gets a bit old is all.”

“It gets a bit old?” you repeat, stunned by his response.

“Yeah you and Sam.  He does something nasty, you break up or contemplate breaking up, then he apologizes with roses or chocolates or what was it this time?  Perfume?  Same story, different version.  Can’t blame me for getting bored with it.”

And then Luke walks straight out of the break room and back to his desk, where there’s a light flashing on his phone.  He presses the button and pulls up a chair to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey Luke, it’s Dave from the New York field office.  Meant to catch you before lunch, but I wanted to talk to you about an agent opening here.  It’d be a promotion for you.  More duties, but more pay, all of that.  Give me a call back with the details if you’re interested.  Thanks.”

…

It ended in the parking lot, the blooming seed of happiness that lived deep in his chest was fading, right next to his heart.  It was his best friend, his sole support, the girl of his life who made everything just a little bit better. It was you standing there, your jaw dropping with surprise and Luke with his entire heart and soul on the line.

It was Luke that changed the game. This game of yours, the little dance of just barely something more than friends.  He had nothing left to lose, because he couldn’t do it anymore.  So he gave himself an ultimatum.  Tell her you love her.  Tell her and if she turns you down, you can accept the job.  Tell her you love her.  Tell her and if she loves you back, you can live happily ever after.  

The words hang thickly in the air.  “I love you, Y/N.  I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

You stand still in your spot, eyes watering and eyebrows furrowed with confusion and surprise.  And for a quick second, Luke thinks you might say it back.  But then you drop your clenched fist to your side and you let out a loud, inconvenient sigh and it’s amazing how quick his gut picks up on the rejection.  It drops as you start muttering about how “you can’t” and  “you have a boyfriend.”

“Listen, Luke—“

But that’s all. Because Luke doesn’t want to listen. His hands wrap around you and Sam has never held you like you’re this precious.  It’s gentle but firm, warm and large, pulling you softly towards him, gathering you, even as his mouth falls against yours, just as lightly, just a hint of pressure and you feel so small against him, against this unspoken message that he loves you. And it’s powerful.

“Luke—“ you say, finally pulling back.  

He freezes, jerks away, his hands still gentle, even as his eyes are screaming, those big brown eyes that love you. “You’re really going to be with him?”

Your ‘yes’ is locked into your throat and tears fill your eyes, but somehow you can’t look away as you destroy your best friend from the inside out. There are a million reasons to stay with Sam and only one to leave him, because you maybe love Luke, but you maybe don’t love Luke, and it’s that thought that makes you nod.  

“Okay.”

You can’t blame him when he walks away, when he holds on to your hands for as long as possible, even as he can’t look you in the eyes. You want him to look at you. You want him to fight for you, but you know that’s unfair to ask him. But you don’t want to lose him and you somehow know you’re going to and you need him to understand, but before you know it… he’s gone.

…

It’s not as if you’ve never seen his desk without him sitting there, because of course you have. He’s stayed home sick, made occasional use of his vacation days, gone on consulting trips and prison interviews— you know what the office looks like when the shape of him is missing, but it’s the permanence of it that hurts.  

As you settle in that first day of Luke’s absence, you hang your coat up and take a seat, You let yourself miss him as a coworker and as a best friend and that’s it. Work will be work, with or without Luke Alvez.

But that’s a lie, because of course it hurts like hell.

Each day it’s harder, when it starts to sink in that this doesn’t mean a handful of days out recovering from the flu or visiting his family, but that there is a new and permanent Luke-sized hole in the fabric of you. So you play sudoku to avoid noticing the absence of his voice and you doodle in your notebook margins during case consultation meetings to ignore all the jokes he can’t whisper in your ear.  

As the days go on, regret floods deeper within you.  You always knew Luke was your best friend.  But you probably always always knew he was more than that too.  You just wished you’d been brave enough to see that.

That night you break up with Sam.  This time, there’s no yelling or screaming or wine glasses thrown against the wall.  It’s respectable and understood that they are just not meant to be.  You thought there’d be a Sam-sized hole inside of you now too, but there’s not.  Instead, it just makes room for Luke’s hole to grow bigger.  

…

It’s twenty past seven and you’ve got your coat on and bag in hand when the phone rings.

You debate for a moment about answering it — after all, technically you shouldn’t even still be here.

But, well, you are still there, so it’s equal parts obligation and impulse that has you reaching for the handset and saying, “Hello?” with a slightly tired edge in your tone.

“Uh, hey.”

And — oh. Oh. 

“Oh my god.”

“Hi.”

“Um… Hi.”

Witty. Clever. Exactly the kind of thing you’d imagined herself saying to Luke when you finally reconnected after too-many-weeks of silence.

“Sorry, I needed a number from Garcia.  It was from a case we worked not long ago—”

“Oh.”

“—and I was just gonna leave a voicemail, because I didn’t think anyone would still be there.”

It’s hard not to wonder if Luke had been making an open effort to avoid you on purpose, if he’d waited to call until twenty past seven because you were supposed to be gone and he’s supposed to get a machine instead.  

“Why are you still there?”

“I had to work late.” And then, because that sounds flimsy, goes on. “Well I didn’t have to, but there were just some open files I wanted to finish up.”

“Wow,” he says, the faint tone of amusement in his voice.  “Wow, the BAU has really changed you Y/L/N.  Going above and beyond, that’s not you.”

And you’re smiling—because it’s Luke and you aren’t sure your face is capable of behaving any other way around him—but there’s something nervous and careful in the lines of your expression that isn’t usually there. You’ve missed him, but knows that a subtle shift occurred in your relationship that can’t be undone, that things might never be as easy as they once were.

“Everything else is pretty much the same here.” Except—god, no—of course it isn’t.

“Oh…good.”

You change up your previous statement. “A little different.” Because you need him to understand that even though the routines of the office cycle on, no part of that environment could ever be the same to you without him there. Then you ask, “what time is it there?”

“…What time is it here?” He pauses, something uncertain and unsure in his tone. “Um, we’re in the same time zone.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“How far apart did you think we were?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, embarrassed. “It feels really far.” And you can hear his thoughtful, quiet agreement that suggests it’s more than just the miles dividing D.C. and New York that’s currently between you.

…

It took you until the next morning to get your act together.  You were walking into the building, the sun rising across the lot, and you felt it.  A crumpled up piece of paper in your pocket.  You gripped it in your fist before pulling it out, unwrapping the paper and trying to make out the scrubbed words.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” It was a note from Luke.  One from back before the airplane competition, where you’d bet on how many green M&M’s were in the jar resting on Garcia’s desk.  You’d beat him easily, leaving time to gloat on how he should just give up on betting against you, cause you always won, just like you did every other time you two bet on something.  Luke had left the note on your desk with the soda you’d won.  

You could feel the tears surfacing, blurring your vision as you turned in your spot and starting walking all the way back to your car.  You opened the note up again after you’d sat in the driver’s seat, unfolding the paper and running your hands over Luke’s scratchy scrawl and letting yourself feel what was long overdue.  It all floods in at once.  The despair, the guilt, the regret.  But also the love and admiration and memories of laughing, smiling, feeling lighter than ever around him.  

You stop in your tracks, backing out of the building and walking back towards your car.  

You pull your phone out of the depths of your pocket and dial your boss’ number quickly. 

“Emily,” you say when she answers.  “I need to take the day off.  I have to go to New York.”

…

The city was so close down the road, you could see the outline of hazy buildings out of the window.  You stared diligently ahead, running through what you were going to exactly say to Luke when the time came.  But before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot of the New York FBI field office, sliding into the spot beside Luke’s car as an automatic reflex, and you still had no idea what you were doing, what you would say. Yet your feet trudged up to the front door, almost like a little girl who knew that you had to admit to your mother that you’d smashed her favorite vase, because it had to be done, you just weren’t quite ready for the aftermath. There were no obstacles now.  No Sam or unacknowledged feelings and you were sure that’s what scared you the most. What if, after all this time, Luke had just had enough?  What if you just weren’t meant to be?

You walked right up to reception, waiting until the woman hung up the phone before telling her you were here to see Luke.

“Y/N?” his familiar voice rings through the air and when you look over, you can see him standing up from his desk.  “What are you doing here?” There’s a hint of curiosity and surprise and maybe even a little excitement in his voice.  

You couldn’t tell him here.  You had to go somewhere more private.  

“Could we um, talk?” you say quietly, offering him the slightest smile even amidst your nerves.

“Yeah,” he says, “let me just grab my coat—“ he motions back towards his desk with his thumb, where you see his familiar black jacket hanging off from the back of his chair.  You wait patiently with your arms crossed across your chest, bouncing on the backs of your heels.

“All set?” he says, hand buried deep within his pockets.

You walk down to the parking lot in silence, still pondering what you were going to say to Luke in your head.  

“How’s New York?” you asked after thanking him for holding the door open for you.  You wanted to stall as long as possible.

Luke chuckles, “Common, Y/N.  You didn’t drive three and a half hours to New York to ask me how the city is.”

You blush, of course you didn’t.  But you still didn’t know what to say to him.  To Luke.  The man you loved, completely and wholly, with everything inside of you.

You could feel your cheeks growing hot as you thought about what you were about to admit.  You’d had so much courage built up inside of you before, but now, it was quickly draining.  You had to say it before you were completely empty.

“I miss you.”

Your heart’s still thumping like crazy, banging against your ribs, and you’re not entirely sure what you just said.

And Luke didn’t say anything back to you, but it wasn’t like you said all the stuff that you were thinking to him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you continue, your voice wavering.

Luke shakes his head. “I’m okay.“

You nod. There’s a silence, long enough that you worry you’re not going to be able to say it all and nothing will happen and you’ll go back to being scared and afraid. You want to be someone who says what they feel.

“It’s just— the BAU isn’t the same and… I miss you.  I miss you a lot, Luke.  I miss my best friend.”

“It can’t be that way again, Y/N,” he says. "I wasn’t your best friend. I was in love with you.”

“We could just go back to the way things were—“ 

"No,” he says. He’s standing so still, arms at his sides.  ”What you miss – that wasn’t friends. That was us… that was me being something more. All the time. And I can’t do that anymore.  It hurt too much.”

You feel kind of sick, but a little voice in the back of your head says you should be grateful for whatever happened, because it was better than being endlessly, endlessly quiet.

“Then I’m really sorry,” you say at last. “Because I miss that.”

“What do you think that means?” he asks, and there’s a little heat in his voice. “What do you think you’re really missing?”

Before, you would have undoubtedly ducked your head and avoided the question, or flat-out lied. Now though, you had driven three and a half hours and you’re standing in front of Luke, far enough away that you have to speak up for him to hear.

“I know what it means,” you say quietly. “And you know.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t. You’ve made it clear you only wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t think I’ve made anything clear,” you say, and for the first time you have the urge to move closer, speak more softly, because this is the hard part, the thing you couldn’t say in front of everyone else. “I should have been honest a long time ago, and I know that, but I couldn’t until I knew what I wanted.”

“Do you?” he asks after a moment, his voice low. “Know?”

You take a big breath, letting the oxygen go to your head, willing back the feeling you had just before you ran up to the third floor. “I want to feel the way I did when I was with you, back before you moved to New York.  I don’t want to be lonely, and I want to redo the past two years except it made me figure out a lot of things about myself, so I don’t know. I want stuff to be easy, Luke, and it isn’t, and I thought that maybe if we could be friends again I could have one thing in my life that made me happy, even if it wasn’t what I really wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long time. The wind whips against you, making you shiver.

“Why can’t you say it?” he asks.

“Would anything change if I did?”

“I don’t know, everything changed when I said it.”

“Fuck it,” you mumble, the cold air filling your lungs, “I love you.  I have loved you but I was with Sam and I was afraid and I didn’t know it.  And I’m still afraid, but I know it now.”

You stare and wait for his reaction, hoping with everything inside of you that you weren’t too late.  But the look on Luke’s face, the sad, almost pitiful stare, gave you reason to believe that you were.

And your courage drained for good.

“I’m sorry,” you said, wiping a tear falling down your cheek, “I shouldn’t have come.  I’m gonna go.  It was nice to see you,” you mumble before turning away and heading towards your car.

When Luke saw you turn away, it was as if lightning struck him. All he could see was your back, stiff and tense, walking back towards your car, parked near his, and suddenly he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how it had come to this. The last several months had turned you both into people he didn’t even recognize anymore, and he blamed himself.

You were all he ever wanted. You were the one he saw in his dreams and imagined in his fantasies for years on end, and he had you. It was supposed to be forever, but all he seemed to do anymore was hurt you. The Luke from six weeks ago would absolutely kill him for that. The Luke from six weeks ago would feel about him like he used to feel about Sam. Sam took you for granted, and didn’t consider your feelings.

Like Luke was doing now.

He sprinted toward you, his long legs reaching yours in just a couple of long strides, and he grabbed your arm to turn you around. You had no idea what was happening, but he didn’t stop to explain. He simply wrapped his arms all the way around you, and held you close. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t reciprocate immediately. He pulled you closer. He buried his face in your hair, nuzzled into your neck, and tried to breathe you in. He remembered the electric shock of when you first met (for him, anyway), how it felt to love you and not be able to have you.  He couldn’t let himself let it slip away.

You finally wrapped your arms around him, and he felt a small shudder go through you. You pulled back and he could see your face crumple just before you took his face in both hands and kissed him. When you parted, you were both smiling as said, “I love you” in unison.  

#luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagines #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader fic #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez angst #criminal minds

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hi there! I love your works so much, can I request yandere style lost boy headcannons? I mean i know they are pretty much into slowly getting what they want eventually but what if that was upped?

“Hey I just wanted to stop by to say I came across your blog on another i love the way you write the boys so much it made me watch the movie I was wondering if I could request something with them how they would be in a yandere situation?” -Anon

So, I got two asks for a yandere situation, but I feel like they’re asking for different things. The first one seems to be what if the boys were the yanderes, and the second is what if their s/o is the yandere. Since my serial killer au is basically a yandere s/o situation, I’m gonna focus on the boys being the yanderes. Hope you enjoy!!

Poly!Lost Boys x Yandere Situations

They pretty much already are yanderes. The minute they notice you, they begin watching you from afar. Even if you’re not technically theirs yet, they still feel a possessiveness over you. You’re their mate, and no one else is allowed to have you

They hide it well. Behind their smiles and their teasing, you would have no idea the things they do each night. Paul teases you and flirts with you, and Marko is constantly giving you affection. David will give you smiles and soothing words, and Dwayne stands like a silent, gentle statue besides you

David followed you everywhere. With or without the boys. On the nights you hadn’t gone to the boardwalk, he’d tracked down your scent. He wanted to make sure you were safe, and that you weren’t with anyone else. If you were, he’d drop from the sky the minute you left. It didn’t matter who they were. No one was allowed to have your attention, and no one was allowed to keep you from coming to the boardwalk. You’d told him once how your friends kept disappearing, or how they would change rather suddenly. He’d given you a small frown and brushed your hair from your face, commenting on how odd that was. He, then, gave you a charming smile and said, “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He told you, and it had given you a small wave of relief. You could tell that he meant it, but you didn’t know how much. He offered to pick you up from work if you were nervous that something weird was going on in Santa Carla, just so someone could walk with you to where the other boys were from the shop on the boardwalk, and you’d been too grateful to deny it. He picked you up from work every night (always late shifts at a local tourist trap), and you couldn’t remember when you’d told him where it was. You couldn’t remember when you told him a lot of things. But you always pushed it off as your own forgetfulness. Cause how else would he know your favorite color (the same color as the walls in your room) or that you liked to collect cassettes. If you ever asked him how he knew something, he’d always furrow his brows in confusion and say, “You told me? Last week, remember?” And suddenly you would. Just a fragment of an image, but it was there. Like it had always been. You also hadn’t remembered leaving one of your scarves at the cave. When you’d found it, David had assured you, just like all those other times, that you’d simply forgot about it. You didn’t know that he’d knicked it from your room.

Marko always seemed to pop up around you wherever you were. Of course, that was only at night so it wasn’t that noticeable. It was just coincidence, right? He popped up at your work, and he seemed pleasantly surprised when he saw that you worked there. He’d chatted a bit, bought what he needed, and then promised to see you later. Your co-workers had giggled and asked who he was, and you’d told them, “Oh, that’s just Marko.” You’d waved it off, but Marko started dropping by more and more. You’d see him at work, when you went out to get take-out, when you went to the store or the laundromat. It was always obvious that it was just a coincidence, or at least he made it seem so. You didn’t know that he’d learned your schedule and your habits, and he knew just how to make it seem like every meeting outside the boardwalk was a simple, happy accident. He’d joked once about it being fate that the two of you seemed to bump into eachother so much, and he’d seemed more than pleased when you jokingly agreed. After that, he became far more touchy. Small brushes of his hand against yours became him holding it. Short hugs became an arm around your shoulders or waist. Once, when you’d been talking at the laundromat, you hadn’t realized he’d been practically boxing you against the washing machines until you went to take a step back. He always joked that maybe you were meant to be. You had so much in common. Same favorite places to eat, same music taste, and you even went to the same laundromat. You had to brush it off, because he couldn’t be serious. Could he?

Once, Paul told you that he had missed you, even though you’d seen him just the night before. It had been something he’d said in passing right as you came up to them, and he’d pulled you into a tight hug. You’d laughed it off and given Marko a hug right afterwards, and you hadn’t noticed the way Pauls eyes lingered on you. He hadn’t just missed you. He’d been devastated when you’d left early the night before, and he’d been holding your hand when you said you had to leave that night. His hand has subconsciously tightened, almost enough to hurt. But, he’d covered it with a smile and an offer to drive you home. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him that you drove to the boardwalk. He’d teased you right back, saying, “What, don’t want me to know where you live?” And you’d laughed as you gave him a small push. It didn’t matter anyways. He already knew. He started offering more and more, however. He wanted to hang out with you alone, and you started to suspect that perhaps he had a crush on you. You wouldn’t be surprised. He flirted with you constantly. One time, when he’d brought you back to the cave, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want you to leave. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not that late.” You had rolled your eyes and told him you were tired, and he’d smiled his laid-back smile. “Stay for just a little longer, please? We never get to hang out with you!” That was a lie. You hung out with them every night, even after your shifts. “C’mon, stay. For me?” He had begged like that for another few minutes, and finally you had agreed to stay for another hour or so. You didn’t want to be so tired that you couldn’t go home, and Paul had offered, once again, to drive you. That way, you could stay until four in the morning. If you wanted to, that is.

Dwayne was always quiet around you, but his small smiles and intense gaze was almost too much sometimes. You had started receiving letters a few weeks after you met the boys. You didn’t know who they were from, and you never would have guessed they’d be from the brunette. He was always so quiet. He seemed to clam up whenever you were near them, but really you had no idea that he was just doing his best to keep his feelings to himself. You made him nervous, paranoid. He was worried he was going to scare you off, so he sent you letters instead. They were the only way he could get his feelings out, and, at first, he’d obsessed over whether or not you would guess that he was the one who was sending them. But you didn’t. He would watch you take it out of your mailbox, and he saw how you’d smile whenever you saw the familiar envelope and seal. He didn’t have a proper way to wax seal it, but he thought it was far more romantic. He saw how you seemed a little happier whenever you got his letters, and he’d once heard one of your co-workers, another young girl, tease you for having a secret admirer. He’d frowned when another one of them had said it was a little creepy. He and David had shared a look, and it was decided that they wouldn’t last long. Finally, one day, you told them about it. Dwayne was positive that if his heart could still beat that it’d be hammering in his chest. But you had no idea who was sending them to you. He tried to make it a little more obvious, just subtly. Leave little hints and clues, but nothing that would tip you off too much. Finally, you’d asked him about the letters one time. You’d asked about how your last letter had a line from one of his favorite books, and he’d hummed. He’d confirmed that was true, and then he’d watched you flip through the pages of it. Finding the line itself. He gulped. The line was underlined, and he quickly looked away before you could look back at him.

It had taken you awhile to confront them about it. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought that perhaps they all liked you. When you’d subtly asked them one night if any of them would date you, under the guise of a conversation about how no guys seemed to want to talk to you anymore, they had all been painfully obvious. Well, now that you knew what to look for. Paul had fidgeted, but he’d quickly hid it under one of his smiles. He was quick to say, “Why, you offering?” It was clearly teasing, and you rolled your eyes. Marko had leaned his head on your shoulder, murmuring something about how, “I mean, that wouldn’t be too terrible.” With a mischievous grin on his face. David had blown smoke out from his smiling lips. “You’re always with us anyways. We practically are already dating.” He’d commented, and Dwayne had barely looked up from his book. He said a small, “Yes.” And that was it. You’d hummed, and told them, “Thank you.” And you had barely waited a beat before Paul had cracked. He wasn’t subtle at all when he asked, “Would you date any of us?” And you had to keep your smile to yourself. You didn’t know how obsessed any of them were, or how possessive they had become. You thought they had a simple crush, so you’d flipped the page in your book and said, “I guess.” 

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys david #david the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko #paul the lost boys #the lost boys paul

[miraclekittyandbug]

Ten Questions With A Twist Chapter 3

Here we are! Chapter three of Ten Questions with a twist! Sorry I was a day late, I had some problems with my health. 

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 (This one) ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

Later that night, after a patrol that left them both wind-whipped, Chat Noir and Ladybug sat on the edge of the Eiffel Tower yet again, staring at the stars. 

“So,” Chat began, “green and orange?”

Ladybug’s face lit up as she remembered how bold she had been earlier in the day. “Yeah! I like green too, and orange is the color of the sunset. Now whenever I look at the sky in the evening, I’ll be reminded of him.”

“That’s nice.” A moment of silence hung in the air before Chat decided he needed to break it. “I have an idea.”

Ladybug was somewhat scared by this confession. The last time he had “an idea” she woke up the next morning with her entire torso bruised from a game of “let’s see how far we can throw each other” (Surprisingly, Ladybug had won. But Chat insisted he was too nervous to use his full muscle power, in case he were to hurt her. He claimed he had only used a portion of his strength and still, that bruise didn’t go away for weeks.) “What’s this ‘idea’, Chat?”

His eyes showed a spark of mischievousness that had become his trademark. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

“No. No way, Chat!”

“You’re totally right, that’s far too many. Ten! We’ll play ten questions!”

“Chat you know why we can’t do that.”

He decided to plead ignorance, shrugging to indicate he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Chat, we’re not supposed to know each other’s identities…” She continued in a whisper, “no matter how much we want to.” That last part was clearly not meant for Chat to hear. He continued staring at the sky for a moment, praying that she had meant what he thought she meant. Praying that she wanted this too. Praying that he wasn’t making a mistake. He wondered if the stars could grant wishes, had they been wished hard enough.

“Well that’s alright, because these ten questions aren’t for you, my lady, they’re for that boy you like.”

Ladybug was taken aback by this. “What?”

Chat continued, “I have a list of ten questions, all written down for you.” He unzipped one of his pockets and pulled out a small piece of paper. “You have to ask that boy you like all ten of them, even if you already know the answer. Ask them in any order you like.”

“But that could put him at risk too! I can’t tell you all these answers!”

“Ah ah ah.” He put his finger up to stop her right there, “This isn’t just a game, this is a challenge.” He paused, leaving Ladybug time to look confused. “Ask him every one of those questions, but don’t tell me the answers. Instead, I’m going to guess what he said. If I get them all right, I get to take you on a date. Anything I don’t guess right, you don’t have to tell me. Deal?” 

“And what will I get if I win, Chaton?”

He smiled meekly, having not thought that far ahead. “Bragging rights?”

“Ha! No way, kitty. If- no, when I win, You have to admit that puns aren’t funny!”

Chat considered this, then nodded his head, “It’s a good thing I’m gonna win then.” He put out his gloved hand, daring her to shake it. He thought, maybe if he focused hard enough, he could read her thoughts, but no such luck.

Ladybug surprised him by putting her hand in his and shaking it. They both took off shortly after that, Ladybug going home to read over this list of questions, and Chat returning home to prepare himself for the next day. He was more ready than ever to find out who his lady really was behind the mask.

At school the next day, Adrien was a nervous wreck. He asked Gorilla to get him to school as early as possible and so was left to wait for fifteen minutes before any other students showed up. And then when other people started to show up, his nerves went through the roof. All of a sudden, every conversation he couldn’t hear became suspicious. Every whisper put him on guard. Every time somebody so much as glanced at him, his heart rate soared. Eventually, he realized he would probably have an anxiety attack if he subjected himself to more of this than absolutely necessary.

Luckily, the warning bell rang, reminding him that, even if he did want to stand here and wait, class would start here in about five minutes and he still needed to stop at his locker to pick up his things. A final glance behind him showed that the courtyard was clear, save for a streak of blue-black hair racing toward the school. Typical Marinette, Adrien thought, before making his way to his locker.

Barely five minutes later, Adrien plopped down in his seat in a way that would put his father to shame. He couldn’t worry about grace at a time like this, though. He was out of breath and got to his seat just in time, the final bell ringing a few seconds after he sat down.

Marinette burst into the room just as the bell rang. Once again, she managed to be almost late. She bent down and put her hands on her knees, catching her breath and steadying herself. Now that she made it to class, she seemed to be in less of a rush to get to her seat. Her whole body sagging from exhaustion, she waved at the class before making her way around the first table. Briefly, she stopped in front of Adriens desk and opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but she must have forgotten, as she walked away to take her seat.

Ms. Bustier started to sort through the pages on her desk, preparing for the first class of the day. Adrien got out his tablet and slouched in his seat. Was Ladybug not going to ask the questions? Did he do something to scare her away? Or worse yet, was this all one big coincidence? A lot of people’s favorite color is green, a lot of people are fond of orange. Maybe he jumped the gun, got too excited to see that this could all be explained away as pure chance. 

The teacher started class and Adrien had a feeling he wouldn’t be learning much today. Good thing that homeschooling has me ahead of the learning curve.

Lunch couldn’t have come soon enough. Adrien had talked himself out of being excited for the rest of the day. Of course it had been a coincidence! There’s no way his Lady was torn between two sides of the same person. How crazy could this get, Ladybug rejecting Chat Noir for his civilian self. That would be ridiculous. 

As he got his tray and walked across the cafeteria, he overheard the familiar voices of a reporter and her friend. When Alya spotted Adrien, she made sure to speak loud enough for him to hear.

“Well let’s ask Adrien about this!” 

Adrien spun around and saw Alya and Marinette walking towards him. Alya was a bit ahead of her friend, but Marinette had what could only be described as a satisfied smile on her face. 

“So Marinette and I were talking. I want to see America one day, go to Hollywood in California. Marinette wants to go to China at some point to meet her mother’s side of the family. What about you?”

Adrien thought for a moment, feeling as though he missed something. “Would I like to meet Marinette’s side of the family?”

The two girls burst into laughter.

“No!” Alya said, “We’re talking about dream vacations. What would be yours?”

And Adrien didn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knew exactly what to say, he just didn’t expect to say it to a friend. He shook his head in an attempt to rid his brain of this daze he was in. Wow, he thought, that was one of the questions on my list to Ladybug. Two coincidences in two days that’s wild! Still half in a daze, he answered honestly, “I’d like to go sightseeing in Italy.”

Nino joined them, having overheard just enough, “Dude, haven’t you been to Italy before, for like fashion week and stuff?”

“Well yeah,” he continued, “But that was all business. I want to go sightseeing! See the colosseum and walk the streets of Rome. Pay way too much money to get into one of those carts where they bike you around to all the tourist spots. That kind of thing.” 

The group chatted a bit but eventually the bell rang and they retreated back to their classroom. Adrien didn’t even notice Marinette behind him, scratching a question off of a list.

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

There it is! Next chapter comes out in two days!

~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ This Chapter ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

#miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fic #adrienette #10qwat #love square #ten questions with a twist

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Twelve: A Macabre Rite of Passage

AN: You ever lose a post in your drafts? No, just me. Well, that’s what happened here. I didn’t think that was possible lol.

Word Count: 4.6k

Trigger Warnings: none

Taglist: @nerds4life246, @leahnicole1219

Chapter Thirteen:  A Simple Lover’s Quarrel

New York, 1889

On a sunny, New York City afternoon, sunlight shone down on the stately, grimy buildings providing some brightness to the residents below. Creaking of carriage wheels filled the crisp air along with the distinct cries of newsboys, shouting the latest headlines on every available street corner. The busy street was filled with carts selling fruits and vegetables of all kinds to the bustling crowd of New Yorkers, carrying baskets of groceries while children clung to their mother's side or onto their cuddly toys. Couples of young and old strolled on the cobblestone streets, sporting colorful gowns and embroidered suits. Occasionally, stopping to consort with a member of the class below them.

It was just another regular day in the city and Sabine was right in the middle of it.

"Remind me why we're doing this today?" he asked.

Side by side, she walked with Bastien as they did bit of grocery shopping of their own.

Sabine smirked, "Because while we are immortal, we still need to eat," she replied, keeping her voice low.

Steam rose up above the general cheerful chatter of the crowd, coupled with the enticing smells of the competing aromas wafting from the immigrant street vendor's wares.

"Honestly, this is your fault," Sabine stated, adjusting her grip on her own heavy basket. "Someone couldn't keep their hands off me this morning," she pointed out. "We could have been finished by now,"

"Well, someone didn't seem to mind my freshly shaven face..." he trailed off, discretely lowering his lips to her ear. "All over their body," he finished, regaining his posture with a cocky grin.

Her cheeks heated at his words.

"What can I say?" Sabine began, looking over at him. "You cut quite the dash with a scraped chin," she complimented, forcing herself to not touch Bastien's face, a gesture that would be heavily frowned upon.

"I do, don't I?" he remarked, as he gave his clean shaven jaw a stroke.

The two of them passed by rag-tag groups of men and women that walked between the lamp posts. As they crossed over to another street, they walked past a group of middle aged men dressed in sharp suits, smoking on cigars and buying the latest newspapers.

"Wait here will you," Bastien requested. "I must know the latest scandal rocking this city," he quipped, making Sabine smile.

"Go on," she chuckled, flicking her chin out toward the pale faced and rag-adorned newsies ahead of them.

Bastien flashed a smile of his own before moving away from Sabine, leaving her alone on the corner of the sidewalk. Tilting her head up, Sabine briefly admired the cloudless blue sky. She couldn't believe her dreams of coming to New York after had come into fruition. After California, the band of immortals state hopped their way from the West Coast back to the East Coast, residing in big cities where it was easy enough to blend in. There was only one area that they all refused to live in and that was the South.

It seemed like everyday new Jim Crow laws were being enacted...or there was news of another lynching.

The shriek of street children playing in the alleys with a refreshing degree of excitement snapped Sabine from her daze, shaking her head a bit. She had gone into a slight trance and the passing crowd didn't offer her much of a second glance, only if it was to silently question her social status as a colored woman wearing a dress of a middle class woman at best. But Sabine ignored the occasional stares and held her head proudly, waiting for Bastien to return.

"Sabine?"

The voice hit her by surprise and she froze. Nobody knew her real name outside of Bastien, Andy, Nicky, and Josef. The owner of said voice was female, but it sounded weak, frail even. All of which that made it abundantly clear that it was not Andy.

"Sabine?"

Looking from her left to her right, Sabine couldn't find the voice at first only seeing people perusing around the vendors and carriages that trundled along holding the rich. It wasn't until she completely turned around and found herself staring down at an older, black woman, maybe in her late sixties or early seventies.

"May I help you ma'am?" Sabine asked, cocking her head.

"My, my, my," she breathed, her eyes roving over her face. "It's you, it's really you," the woman stated, reaching out to touch her face.

Sabine leaned away from her a little, "Ma'am...I...think you have me confused with someone else," she corrected, but the woman just shook her head.

"I'd know this face from anywhere, so warm and full of love and shaped just like a heart," she remarked. "A mother always knows her daughter's face, Sabine," she said gently.

Sabine nearly fainted from the woman's words.

Her mouth opened and closed, "No, no, you must be mistaken," she said, shaking her head.

The woman gripped onto her arm, "You are, you must be!" she maintained, trying to convince Sabine or maybe herself.

"I-I-"

"Mama, Mama!" another female voice called.

A middle-aged, well dressed woman came hurrying over to them with a parcel in her hand.

"Mama, please let go of the young lady's arm. We don't need to cause a scene in front of all these people," she said, placing her hand on top of her mother's and scanning the crowd nervously.

Sabine glanced around the busy street and sidewalks as well, but no one seemed phased about what was transpiring. In their heads, its just another colored family having a squabble.

"But Emile,"

Once that name came from her lips, Sabine was sure that she was actually going to drop to the ground. Blood rushed to her ears and drummed in its canals, muffling all the sounds surrounding her while she felt heartbeat increase dramatically, it felt like her chest was going to explode.

"Emile. Mama. Here?" Sabine thought.

Faintly, she could hear her older sister and mother arguing with each other.

"See reason Mama, this can't be Sabine, she's too young,"

"It is her, you can't recognize your own sister? She's a Freemen like us,"

"What's going on here?"

Bastien's deep voice is what brought Sabine back down to Earth as she attempted to process if what was happening actually real. His expression was a mixture of seriousness and confusion while tucking his newspaper under his arm. Emile and the older woman instantly became demure at the arrival of Bastien, her mother even going so far as letting go of her arm as if it burned her.

"It's nothing sir, my mother was bit confused," Emile explained, her eyes not quite meeting Bastien's. "It was a mistake, we apologize for wasting your time and disturbing your maid," she said, before quickly walking away arm in arm with her mother from Sabine and Bastien.

"My maid?" he repeated, his brow furrowing and looking in the direction of where the two women went.

Sabine placed her hand on her chest, trying to calm her erratic breathing down which did nothing of the sort.

"Sabine, are you okay?" Bastien inquired, eyes filled with concern.

His hand went to reach to touch her on the waist, but he quickly snatched his hand back. Thank god, he remembered to show restraint.

"Sabine?" he called again, waiting for an answer.

"I think I just ran into my family," she breathed out.

~~~x~~~

"You're acting like a spoiled brat Sabine," Bastien said, opening the door to their home. "You don't get your way for once and you throw a fit," he added, closing the door after Sabine marched inside.

This argument had raged on since the moment they left the street where Sabine had been reunited with her family. They did their best to keep the heated whispers between them, but occasionally Sabine's temper got the better of her and she drew more than a few stares when she lashed out at Bastien. However, once they entered the confines of the safe house, the gloves came off, figuratively and literally.

Sabine slammed down the basket onto a table near the door, "I'm acting like a spoiled brat for wanting to see my family?" she repeated incredulously, as she roughly tugged at her gloves.

Bastien pulled his coat off, "Yes, you are," he insisted, removing his hat and hanging it above his coat. "If that is your family, then they think you're probably dead and it is best that we leave that way,"

Sabine placed her hands on hips and frowned, in utter disbelief at what Bastien said.

"No, it is not," she disagreed, vehemently shaking her head. "Did you see the desperation in her eyes, the way she tightly clung to my arm? After all she has been through in her life, from being enslaved and watching her daughter be ripped away from her. Why should I be the one to make her suffer even more?" she questioned, pointing to herself.

"You're not Sabine!" Bastien replied in exasperation. "She's an old woman, for all we know, she thinks every girl that looks like you might be her daughter," he reasoned, sticking his arm out to the side.

Sabine lifted her brow, "She said my sister's name, Emile," she pointed out, shrugging her coat off.

"Coincidence," he retorted.

"They have Louisianian accents for god's sake!"

"Sabine, there are plenty of slaves that could've escaped from Louisiana named Emile," Bastien guessed, and Sabine's coat hit him dead center in his chest, hard.

"Don't be an ass!"

"What? It's a possibility!"

"You are the most infuriating man I've ever met!"

Sabine began pacing up and down the den area in a vain attempt to control her temper.

"Hey, what is all this yelling about?" Josef asked jokingly, walking around the corner.

"I think they're having a lover's quarrel," Nicky commented, coming from behind him.

She halted in her movements, "Sebastien won't let me reunite with my long, lost mother and my family!" Sabine exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Josef's eyes widened sharply, "Your mother?" he repeated, as Andy joined them as well, a half-closed book in her hand.

"Yes!"

"And I forbid you from going to see her," Bastien declared, placing his hands on the waist.

Sabine scoffed, "You forbid me?" she echoed, raising her brow again. "I'm not a fucking child, I do as I damn well please!"

"See Andy," Bastien started, walking towards the oldest immortal. "I told you that we had gone too soft on her," he stated gesturing towards Sabine.

A sympathetic expression was on the older woman's face as she looked at the youngest immortal.

"Sabine, I'm going have to agree with Booker," Andy spoke up, causing Sabine to deflate a bit. "I do understand why you want to do this, but it's going to cause nothing but pain,"

Bastien lifted his hand in the air as if to say 'thank you'.

"I mean, what would you even tell them, hmm?" Bastien questioned, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. "Hello, I'm Sabine, you're long lost daughter thought to be dead. I'm technically forty-seven, but I have the face of a twenty-two year old!"

"Then I won't tell them my true identity!" she shot back. "I'll play the role of a concerned young woman if it means I get to see my family again!" Sabine exclaimed.

"Book maybe-" Nicky began.

"No," Bastien interrupted, looking at him. "Sabine," he called, turning to face her again with his hands pressed together. "I am trying to protect you, reuniting with your family will only bring you more pain," he stressed.

"Just because you're family despised you when they died, doesn't mean mine will!" Sabine snapped.

Even though the sentence had already left her lips, she realized how cruel it was.

Bastien tightened up, his face no longer showing any measure of restraint. He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief and Sabine could see how much her words hurt him to say what she did, his blue eyes were practically swimming now. Regret gnawed at her, she didn't mean to say that, it was the heat of the moment and tempers were flaring. And she...she said it. Sabine didn't like how this was going, she felt her guilt grip on her harder the longer she looked at Bastien.

For once, there was utter silence between all of them, it was eerie, unsettling even. Sabine did not like this sudden change, it was obvious it made miserable company.

"Bastien, I..." Sabine trailed off, when he would no longer look her in the eyes. "Bastien," she called again, but he did not meet her stare.

The Frenchman moved away from her without speaking a word, his expression held tightly. He moved towards the front door and gathering his coat and hat as he went.

"I'll go after him," Josef muttered, briefly looking over to Sabine and giving her a forced semi-smile. "Booker," he called, jogging to catch up with him.

The door slammed shut and Sabine felt herself flinch as the sound reverberated throughout the room, leaving her feeling inexplicably cold. Josef, with his coat in hand, reopened the door and this time closing it with a soft click. Sabine dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, wondering how she was ever going to fix what just happened. Warm hands found there way on top of Sabine's shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"Everything will be fine Sabine," Nicky assured, and she lifted her head away from her palms.

"How could you possibly think that?" she asked, shaking her head. "Did you not hear what I said to him?" she questioned, feeling her eyes well up.

Sabine knew that Nicky could see the guiltiness on her face, it was easily readable.

"Excuse me," she whispered, her voice trembling and rushed towards the hall where her bedroom was.

The door swung open and Sabine snatched her hat off her head, throwing it to the floor with one hand and slamming the door shut behind her with the other. Blindly, she threw herself onto her bed, landing stomach first with a muffled thwump against the mattress. A soft sob left Sabine as she gripped the soft blanket, her chest tight. A few tears leaked from her eyes and she did nothing to stop them. Sniffling, Sabine sunk deeper into the mattress.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door and Sabine lifted her head from her pillows and looked back at the door. Sabine turned away, intent on ignoring whoever it was and let out a sigh instead as she closed her eyes. There was shuffling from outside her door, but Sabine remained keen on ignoring Nicky or Andy, they would give up eventually. That belief quickly left her mind as soon as she heard the door knob turn slowly on its hinges.

Then the door creaked open.

The sound of heels clacking against the floor echoed hollowly throughout the bedroom, Sabine squeezed her eyes just as the bed dipped beside her. She felt a hand gently nudge her.

"Come on, Sabine. Get up," Andy ordered softly. "No use in sulking, what's been said has been said, and you can't change that," she said.

Reopening her eyes, she slowly turned her head in Andy's direction. Sabine knew she undoubtedly looked like a mess, her face was slightly red and teared stained. Her eyes, which were usually warm and clear, were now blurred and teary.

"I've ruined everything Andy," Sabine croaked out, sniffling once more. "I-" she began, but stopped herself.

She could feel a lump in her throat that was keeping her from finishing her sentence, and the emotion that clung to her words wasn't making the lump go away any sooner.

"Now, now," Andy started, rubbing her on the back soothingly. "Don't be dramatic," she stated. "The two of you were arguing and hurtful things were said by both parties, that's not unlike for couples,"

Sabine scoffed, "I doubt Bastien would throw it in my face that I was a slave, as I did with mentioning his dead wife and kids," she pointed out, shaking her head.

"No, I don't think he would,"

"He has every right to be mad at me," Sabine replied. "He misses her, he misses all of them," she stressed, burying her head in the pillows. "And I went ahead and said...that," she finished, letting out a huffed breath and closing her eyes.

"Well, I'm not here to berate you Sabine," Andy informed, shifting herself on the bed. "You know what you did and you know what you must do," she remarked.

"I know,"

The youngest immortal looked over at her elder, her brown eyes mixing with gray ones. A grim expression lined Sabine's face. Of course she felt bad for what she did and was trying to fix it, but she feared it wouldn't be good enough. They had their fights like any couple, but this one was different, it felt different. This one was more personal, on both ends. Right now, Sabine wanted nothing more to be wrapped in Bastien's embrace, to have silly, meaningless debates like they always did about food, books, and art. Now she wasn't sure if those would happen anytime soon.

In her anger, Sabine crossed a line.

Andy let out a sigh, "Sit up, sit up," she said, gently pulling at her body.

Sabine was reluctant to move from her position, much more content to wallow in her sorrows, but she did and let Andy guide her into a upright position. Scooting closer towards her, Andy put one hand on Sabine's shoulder and the other on her cheek.

"Clean your face," she instructed softly, using her thumbs to wipe the remaining tears away. "You, Nicky, and I are going out," she announced, her hand gently gripping at Sabine's arm.

"Where?"

"I'm sure Nicky and I could use some fresh air as we finish the rest of today's errands," Andy explained, while Sabine looked over at where she threw her hat. "And you could use the air as well to clear your head, put you at ease a little," she suggested, and Sabine met her gaze again. "Sound good?" Andy questioned, with an encouraging smile.

Sabine nodded her slowly, "Sounds wonderful," she responded, a genuine grin growing on her lips.

~~~x~~~

Sitting at her vanity clad only in her nightdress, Sabine silently unpinned her hair. A knock rapped against her door as she dropped the pin into a little enameled box.

"Come in," she said in a clear voice,

Sabine heard a soft click behind her at the same time that she dropped another pin into the box. When her eyes returned to the mirror, her movements froze at who was standing in the door frame. At that moment, the temperature in the bedroom seemed to drop a few degrees.

"Sebastien," she whispered, turning slightly towards him. "I-" she began, but stopped when he quietly stepped in, closing the door after him

Sabine went to stand up and Bastien just shook his head, motioning for her to stay where she was. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and all the words she had come up with earlier had up and vanished.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards her hair.

She nodded slowly, shifting her body to face the mirror again and Bastien's hands found themselves into her hair. He took the ornate silver comb from on top of the vanity and started at the ends. Sabine watched him through the mirror, feeling his fingers separating every last strand of her hair.

"Where did you go?" she asked quietly, finding the courage to speak.

"Where do you think?" he asked back just as softly, though there was a hint of humor in his tone, but also a trace of bitterness.

Though she tried, Sabine could not ignore the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke and booze, clinging to Bastien's clothes. She stared at his reflection again, he seemed completely unfazed or even showed the slightest sign of inebriation. Bastien languidly ran the comb through her black locks, with steady hands, stroke after stroke. Normally, she would this find quite amusing, Bastien playing sober incredibly well when they both knew he was not. Except that it wasn't, not today at least. Especially since she was part of the reason why he smelled like a brewery and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

"What is going on in that head of yours?"

Bastien had caught Sabine's stare in the mirror and held it, he could see the troubled look in her eyes.

"Why are you...why are you being so kind to me, Bastien?" she asked, her tone guarded. "I was absolutely dreadful towards you earlier," she admitted.

"Yes, yes you were," he agreed, without breaking eye contact and Sabine felt herself wince.

It was one thing to acknowledge it, it was another to hear it spoken aloud by Bastien himself. It stung in more ways than she thought it would. She cast her eyes downward, feeling uneasy and ashamed, but two fingers underneath her chin guided her eyes back to the glass in front of her.

"Shall I braid your hair for you?" he asked.

"Yes, please,"

Bastien's fingers combed through her hair once more and Sabine closed her eyes at his touch, feeling him beginning to braid with surprising ease.

"I would do this for my wife every night before bed," he stated softly.

Sabine's eyes snapped back open, recognizing that far off tone he gets when mentioning his family.

"I guess that explains why you are the only man to possess this rare ability and other men don't," she replied, an attempt to be humorous.

He stopped, only to return to his task a second later, "Or how I'm adept at lacing a corset so well," he mentioned.

"You did that for your wife as well?"

"Every morning when I could," he replied, finishing the braid and combing at the ends.

Sabine felt her heart squeeze slightly with guilt. She turned in her chair, looking up to the man behind her.

"Bastien, I do apologize for my behavior today. I should've never said what I did,"

"When I told you about my family, something so intimate to me and how they treated me afterwards..." he trailed off. "I never would've thought that you would take information and use it against me in the manner that you did,"

"I-" Sabine started, but cut herself off, she could feel herself getting worked up and defensive. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way," she stated, sighing deeply. "I knew where the conversation was headed, I knew what your concerns were," she continued, standing up from her seat. "I wish I had worded it differently, but I was so angry, so hurt, by your flippant attitude. At that point, I stopped caring. I wanted to say something, anything, to reciprocate the same pain you were causing me," Sabine explained, wringing her hands. "Only I took it far," she finished, glancing up at him.

The nervous motions in her hands grew tighter and more frantic that she had to move her hands behind her back.

"Sabine, it felt like you took a knife, and stabbed me with it," Bastien described. "And then, you decided to twist it around for good measure," he added.

She bit the inside of her cheek and lowered her eyes to the floor, "I am sorry Bastien," Sabine repeated.

"Yes, I know," he acknowledged, exhaling heavily. "And I forgive you," he informed. "I am sorry myself, I was harsh with you when it was not necessary. You were not acting like a spoiled brat," he apologized.

"Thank you for recognizing that,"

The two them stood in silence, every second feeling like an eternity. Finally, Sabine brought her eyes to his and and took his hands in both of hers.

"Is all well between us again?" she asked, her dark brown irises looking into his blue ones. "I do hope so now that we both apologized for our regrettable actions today,"

Bastien let out a rough sigh and shifted his eyes to the ceiling, "On one condition..." he trailed off.

"And that is?"

"You let me seal this with a kiss," he answered, staring back down at her with a faint grin.

She scrunched her nose up, "Ugh, maybe later," Sabine suggested, smiling a little.

"Why?" Bastien inquired, pulling her closer.

"Because my dear, you reek of alcohol," she replied bluntly. "And so does your breath," she commented, putting her hands on his chest to keep him at bay. "I'll draw you a bath and fill a glass of water for you-"

"I can do that all myself Sabine, I'm not that drunk," he cut in, his mouth curving upwards. "You go on and head to bed, I'll freshen up. And maybe I'll get that kiss,"

Sabine chuckled, "For now, I can only give you this," she said, before slipping her hand from his and pressing two of her fingers onto her lips and then onto Bastien's.

Gently, he wrapped his hand around hers and kept it there.

~~~x~~~

Sabine was half-asleep felt her mattress dip down beside her, a heavy, solid weight joining her on the bed and underneath the covers. Blinking to adjust to the darkness, she turned over to face Bastien.

"I didn't think you'd be joining me in bed," she said hoarsely.

Bastien slightly froze, "I didn't want to be alone tonight," he explained, his voice low. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized, settling underneath the blankets.

"Eh, never you mind," she yawned. "I meant to stay awake for a little longer, but my efforts failed," she explained, a sleepy smile on her lips.

Sabine could feel the bed shift as Bastien fumbled about for a moment or two before he found the oil lamp on her nightstand. She blinked a few times, her eyes once again adjusting and she saw the face of Bastien, who is looking at her with a wry smile on his face. Sabine shifted on the bed so that she laid on her side, her elbow on her pillow and her cheek in the palm of her hand.

"You smell better," she commented plainly, and Bastien let out a hearty chuckle.

"Good enough for that kiss that was promised to me?" he asked curiously, grinning at her.

"I suppose so,"

Sabine leaned forward and pecked him on the lips.

"I said a kiss, not a peck," Bastien reminded, wrapping her into his arms and pulling her onto his chest.

A small giggle escaped from her as she reached her hand out, cupping his cheek. Briefly, the two immortals just gazed at each other in silence, content with the other's presence. She dipped her head slowly before brushing her lips over his, indulging in the softness of them. Bastien inhaled deeply through his nose, letting his hand caress the small of her back. Sabine went to pull back, but didn’t get far as Bastien sought her lips in a slower and lingering kiss. A soft hum left Sabine just as they parted for air, their chests heaving.

Reopening her eyes, she leaned down again and kissed the corners of his mouth before pulling away once more. Bastien's warm breath mingled with hers as she stroked her thumb back and forth across his cheek.

"Are you alright?" Sabine asked, searching his eyes.

"I am better now," Bastien answered, his hand coming to a stop on her waist. "Today...today was rough," he stated. "For the both of us," he added.

"I know," she agreed, with a sigh and laying her head on his chest.

Sabine could feel the slow rising and falling of Bastien's chest beneath her head.

"I sometimes forget just how sharp your tongue can be," he commented, his voice sending a low rumble that reverberated through her body. "I don't think I've been on the receiving end of one of your lashings before, at least, not in a very long time," he noted, and Sabine planted a kiss on his night shirt covered chest.

"Bastien," she called quietly, reaching her free hand out to interlock their fingers.

"Yes?"

"Promise me something,"

"Anything,"

"Promise me, that we won't go to bed mad at each other," Sabine said, nestling her face into the crook of Bastien’s neck. "I don't know if I could bear it, us going to bed in anger, and then waking up again the next morning with unresolved, bitter feelings still clouding over us," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I promise,"

Chapter Fourteen: Welcome Home, Sabine Freemen

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #the old guard fanfic #the old guard fic #sebastian le livre #sebastien le livre x oc #booker #booker x oc #black female oc #black!oc #black!reader #black fanfiction #black original character #andromache the scythian #andy #nicolo di genova #nicky #yusuf al kaysani #joe #quyhn #lykon #the old guard imagine

[mrs-hatake]

i guess i’m just a playdate to you

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

Genre: angst

Warning: mentions of character deaths, open and ambiguous ending.

Word Count: 2825

A/N: aaaanndd i’m back with more angst! this is inspired by a kakashi edit on tiktok by alyez_ and i LEGIT got all teary eyed after watching so i just HAD to make you guys sad as well lmao.

p.s: Y/E/C = Your/Eye/Color

p.s.s: not proof read

They say that time heals scars but the person who came up with that obviously never lost the person he loved and cherished the most for if they had, then they wouldn’t have said such a careless thing. 

You were strongly reminded by that quote as you stood amongst hundreds of Konoha villagers in anticipation for Kakashi’s coronation as Konohakagure’s sixth Hokage. 

Everyone had been surprised by the news but they were happy to have such a strong and responsible man as a leader, to no longer feel weak and unprotected but safe and even feared by other villages. Everyone was excited for this day.

But not you.

You were saddened by this.

Suddenly, those around you cheered and applauded as loudly as they can as Tsunade, the former Hokage, stepped onto the podium to address the villagers with a formal goodbye.

Your heart squeezed tightly once your eyes spotted Kakashi standing in the distance, face hidden behind his mask but his eye held no emotion in them. 

There was a lump in your throat and you tried to swallow it away but your throat was as dry as sand paper, making it painful for you to swallow. 

Tsunade’s words fell on deaf ears as tears filled the corner of your eyes and, without even knowing it, you were pushing yourself out of the crowed and somewhere far away from the coronation. The last thing you heard was the crowed screaming and cheering as Kakashi stepped onto the podium next to Tsunade.

-

You’ve been walking for hours. How much exactly, you weren’t sure. All that you knew was that your feet were moving for a very long time and soon you found yourself along the outskirts of the Naka River and the sun setting into the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of red and oranges, reminding you of that special day you don’t think you’d ever forget. 

It was the day of Rin’s funeral and everyone had gathered to bid the young Kunoichi goodbye.

Although you were a regular civilain and didn’t understand the severity of the loss or the sacrifice she had made, you understood the tragedy the village was facing, especially your childhood neighbor Hatake Kakashi.  

Kakashi had wandered off towards the end of the funeral and didn’t bother to stick around for the aftermath of the event. 

Knowing how much Kakashi had suffered and the people he had lost in his younger days, you bit your lip in worry as you set off to find him.

Eventually, you found him sitting on a cliff overlooking Konoha, the sun was setting in the distance and it cast the village in an orange hue. 

The young boy had his knees pulled up and pressed to his chest while his chin rested on his arms atop of them. 

You were positive that there were no words that would comfort the boy so you did the next best thing, you sat next to him with your arm around him and listened to Kakashi as he silently cried.

A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek at the memory but you quickly wiped it away and continued in your aimless walk.

There were rustling sounds coming from one of the bushes in the distance that made you stop in your tracks, your heart beating loudly in your ears in anticipation. Holding your breath, you slowly inched forward and was startled when a small white rabbit jumped from within the bushes.

Your shoulders sagged and a shaky exhale escaped your lips. The small white rabbit stared at you in curiosity, it’s small red eyes blinking up at you.

You offered the harmless creature a small smile but it jumped off deeper into the forest. You watched after it and remembered an early morning similar to this encounter.

When Minato and Kushina died, the entirety of Konoha were in mourn. But no one experienced such a great loss like Kakashi. Right when things were finally starting to get normal and Kakashi had the opportunity to experience what having a loving family was like, his parental figures die, one in battle while the other after giving birth. 

Your eyes never wandered off of Kakashi as you followed him through the woods. You knew that Kakashi would run off faster than the speed of light if he wanted to but you were glad that he was allowing you to be close to him. Though, that didn’t mean you didn’t worry over the boy. 

He had just returned from evacuating the villagers into safety after the sudden attack of the Kyuubi when the former Hokage had informed Kakashi of Minato and Kushina’s deaths.

Kakashi had no reaction. His eyes didn’t well up with tears, he didn’t let out a cry of anguish, not even questioning the Hokage. He just accepted their deaths and walked out of the office.

You had run into him as you were helping your father clean up your mini market when the silver haired teenager walked by. Your eyes lit up and you were about to greet him with a bright smile but when you noticed his hunched form and his hands buried deep into his pockets, you knew there was something wrong.

You quickly ran off to catch up with Kakashi and when you were within reach, you griped his shoulder and turned him around to face you. The sight that greeted you shook you to your core. His eyes were filled to the brim with tears and his cheeks flushed a deep red color. His mask was soaking wet at the never ending tears cascading down his cheeks.

“They’re gone.”

Harshly, you rubbed your eyes to will the memory away.

You’ve known Kakashi since you were a little girl and for as long as you’ve known the silver haired man, he had always been stalked by tragedy. Wherever he went, whomever he had cherished and valued, tragedy would clutch its greedy fingers on them and snatch them away from Kakashi. It happened with his biological parents, his best friends and then with his parental figures.

It was too much for the teenager and it made perfect sense why he ended up joining ANBU. 

“You can’t be serious.”

It had been two weeks since Minato and Kushina’s deaths. The village of Konoha continued on with their lives while the third Hokage returned to his rule.

It was early morning and you were manning the cashier at your father’s mini market. It was a slow and boring day with nothing to entertain you other than a trashy Shinobi magazine with a ‘Top 10 list of the Hottest Shinobi in Konoha.” clutched between your fingers.

It was so quiet that you were about to fall asleep when the door opened and the bells signaled the arrival of a new costumer. Your sleepy expression turned into one of joy as Kakashi walked in and stopped in front of you.

“Kakashi!” Your lips turned upwards into a bright smile, “What can I do for you?”

The teenager said nothing, his hands deep in his pockets, as his eyes scanned the shelves of chewing gum and cigarettes behind you.

“I’m joining ANBU.” He said simply. His voice so quiet that you were certain you misheard him.

You were a civilian and you didn’t know much about the Shinobi world but everyone knew of ANBU. Knew the excruciating and intense training Shinobi went through in order to be masterful and be higher in ranks.

Your smile faltered, “I’m sorry?”

Kakashi’s visible brown eye met yours, “Danzo recruited me to join ANBU.”

Before you could say anything else, Kakashi had turned around and exited the market, leaving you in a stunned daze.

Quickly, you snapped out it and followed after Kakashi.

“Oi, Kakashi! Wait!”

But the boy continued on walking.

Angered, you ran up to him and took hold of his shoulder and forced him around to face you, “What are you doing?”

Kakashi avoided eye contact and said nothing. Your angry aura and the hurt in your eyes ineffective to him.

“Are you seriously joining ANBU or are you playing some mean joke because it isn’t funny.”

“I’m serious.” His eye met yours and you were surprised by the harshness in it. Never in your life had Kakashi looked at you that way. It was so sudden and unfamiliar that you dropped your hand from his shoulder and took a step back.

“It’s dangerous.” You whispered and all that Kakashi could do was shrug his shoulders at you.

“I can handle it.” He said in his quiet, monotone voice.

“You could die!” Your voice grew louder, as if it could somehow explain to Kakashi how stupid joining ANBU was.

He said nothing though and slowly blinked at you. 

When you had nothing else to say, Kakashi turned around and walked away.

Tears rapidly filled your eyes before they rolled down your cheeks as you watched Kakashi walk away from you and, possibly, never coming back.

You hadn’t seen nor spoken to Kakashi for the next twelve years after that day. Your entire routine was thrown out of loop as you lost sleep worrying over Kakashi and fearing for his life. You became so depressed that you couldn’t continue working in your father’s mini market and almost dropped out of school had it not been for Gai who visited you one night to inform you about Kakashi’s well-being. You remember breaking down in his arms, relief suffocating you at knowing that Kakashi was alive and well. 

You didn’t get to see Kakashi until your second year as an elementary school teacher for the civilian children of Konoha. It happened by accident really. You were tidying up the class and preparing for the day’s lesson plan when you had spotted the taller and stronger looking man through the window.

His face was still hidden behind his mask and his right eye was still hidden from sight. He was followed by three children who all had different hair colors; one girl had long pink hair while the two other boys had blonde and black hairs respectively.

His appearance stunned you into silence and you would’ve left the classroom to follow after the man had it not been for your students walking in and announcing their presence.

The second time you saw Kakashi was another coincidence. School had been let out early and you didn’t feel like going home just eat. Instead, you went to Ichiraku’s Ramen shop for lunch.

“I’ll be sure to drop by again!” You called over your shoulders, a melodic chuckle escaping your lips, when you suddenly bumped into someone.

Large hands strongly gripped onto your shoulders to balance your footing and to prevent you from falling, “I’m sorry! I should’ve wa-”

Brown eye met Y/E/C in a startled yet dumfounded expression.

“-tch where I’m going.” You trailed off.

Seeing Kakashi up close was messing up with your head and your heart was beating so loud you feared that it would stop. 

“It’s fine.” His voice was deeper but it still had the quietness in it. Vaguely, you remembered Kakashi’s father having a similar tone of voice.

“Hurry up, Kakashi! You’re paying!” The shouts of a blonde boy sitting on the barstool interrupted your thoughts and the two of you jumped back.

“I should go.” Kakashi stated and rubbed the back his neck.

All you could do was nod your head and watch him walk into the ramen shop. Something deep inside of you told you that won’t be the last time you’d run into the most powerful Shinobi and you could feel a small smile crawl its way across your lips in anticipation.

Things between you and Kakashi were great. Your friendship rekindled and your bond grew stronger than ever. However, Kakashi still kept his distance. And, as an adult and having heard of the risks of the Shinobi lifestyle, you understood and accepted Kakashi’s cautions, especially knowing what kind of childhood he suffered.

And when tragedy struck again with one of his students (you eventually learn as Sasuke) took off with a dangerous rouge Shinobi, you were there for Kakashi.

You were even there when Naruto left Konoha to train with his mentor and Sakura interning for Tsunade, and comforted Kakashi during his loneliness.

And right before the beginning of the Fourth Great War where Kakashi had snuck into your apartment and begged for you to stay safe and wait for him, his brown eye wet with unshed tears, you did as your told and sealed the promise with a kiss to the cheek.

So it made no sense for Kakashi to return to apartment one day after the Great War with his expression resembling the very same one when he had told you he was joining ANBU.

You already knew Kakashi was going to say something you weren’t going to like by that expression alone and you were already shaking your head ‘no’ before he could even say anything else.

“Y/N, listen to me-”

“No!” You shut your eyes tight, not wanting for whatever it was Kakashi was going to say to come true. 

You heard him deeply sigh through his nose and soon felt his strong arms wrap around you, “I’m sorry.” He whispered softly into your ears, in hopes to calm you down, “But I’ve been chosen and they need m-”

But you didn’t want to hear what Kakashi was saying so you walked away from his embrace, “I need you!” You spat harshly, tear streaks on your cheeks.

“I was there for you. During everything, not out of obligation but out of love and you left me to join ANBU. That broke my heart, Kakashi, did you know that?”

The silver haired man didn’t. He said nothing as he watched you run your hand through your locks of hair, making it appear messier than its usual kept style.

“I was alone and depressed. I was scared that i would never see you again.” Teary Y/E/C met his briefly before looking away, “And when I finally moved on and things became normal, you’re back in my life as if nothing happened.” You chuckled humorously.

“And I was there for you when your kids left, I was there for you when literally died, even if only for a couple of minutes, and I waited for you during the war. And when it was finally over, when I thought that we’d finally live our lives like everyone else and finally be together, you want to throw all of that to be a Hokage!”

You were panting and your eyebrows furrowed in sorrow. The tears stopped falling but your cheeks were still wet. “I would be fine if you said you’re going to be Hokage and I could be there for you a-as a friend - maybe something even more if you’ve ever felt that way towards me - but you tell me that you can no longer see me.”

It wasn’t meant as a question, though Kakashi answered nonetheless, “To keep you saf-”

“I don’t give a shit!”

Silence met your ears and once you were able to calm down, You had asked Kakashi to leave.

That was a week ago and you haven’t seen Kakashi until earlier today. 

When your feet halted their movements, blood staining the soles of your feet and your toes in pain, you finally stopped walking at the end of Naka river. 

The sun had completely set and the forest was eerily quiet. You weren’t sure how far away from home you were though, you didn’t care. You just wanted to be as far away from the ceremony as possible.

Sitting down on the grass, you wondered how differently your life could’ve been if you had run into Kakashi outside of the ramen shop. Would you have fallen in love with a civilian that you’d eventually marry? You’d probably have at least two of his kids by now running around your tiny little home. Would you have let them join the Academy if they had asked you to? Probably not.

Maybe you and Kakashi were never meant to be. Your love from your childhood well into your adulthood could’ve been one sided after all. Though, there were moments where you believed Kakashi loved you as much as you did. Maybe not during his childhood but you’ve seen it in his adulthood. The way  he’d look at you when you thought you weren’t looking, those brief touches and him always visiting you after returning from a dangerous mission. You were positive that he loved you when Kakashi had been to your apartment and told you to stay safe before the Great War all those months ago.

Exhaustion settled into you and your eyes soon grew droopy. Resting against a tree, you entertained your mind of thoughts of Kakashi retiring from the Shinobi life and spending the rest of his days with you as you welcomed the cold embrace of sleep.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi scenario #hatake kakashi scenario

[withabackpackandcamera]

July 4th, 2021 Day 9: Ending Our Last Full Day With A VERY Full Day Indeed

We arrived at the streetside parking lot for Geldingadalsgos (based on what I found out from Jeroen, the vent that I was taking photos of isn’t the volcano volcano, but more so a vent of a bigger volcano system; therefore, the vent itself doesn’t have a name, the eruption is called Geldingadalsgos, and the volcanic system is Fagradalsfjall Volcanic System. So, 60 Minutes named it wrong… lol) around 12:15am or so, at which time there were probably somewhere between 20-30 other cars parked. Yup, we didn’t even start hiking until after midnight. Indeed, we were a bit crazy and so was everyone else out there at an ungodly hour. Anyhow, because I got a little bit of rest in the car thanks to Minh’s driving, I was ready to go and see this volcano again.

Unlike the first trip to the volcano on our first day here in Iceland a week ago, this trip was much nicer despite the time of day we hiked. Instead of clear skies with heavy midday sunlight, we arrived as the sun was setting in the colorful orange and pink sky. The skies were darker than expected but the night itself teased us but never actually came in full force. The wind today was calm and collected compared to the violent winds the guys in the group endured last week. And the hike up the mountain was much smoother and easier than the first time up, likely because the authorities had done some fixing up, de-graveling, and repaving of different routes to make it safer for hikers. With conditions being great for hiking (and because I had emptied my camera bag of nonessentials), I made it up the mountainside in about 50 minutes or so, which was much faster than the first time. Cynthia and Minh slowly made their way up behind me since I was rushing to get to the top and they weren’t really into rushing.

Once at the top, I scurried across the ridge and to the same area that I had already hiked to last week, hoping for a good vantage point for some volcano photography. Most of the conditions were great for photography on this early, early morning. The skies were beautifully colored. The weather wasn’t too cold or windy. And the volcano was a little more active today compared to last Saturday. But the conditions weren’t perfect because we were still far from the volcano, the volcano wasn’t spewing out enough lava to make lava rivers that we could see from where we were, and the darkness of the lava field and volcano made it hard to take great landscape photos without the contrasting colors of lava rivers. But I guess that when you’re traveling on a tight schedule and you’re looking to photograph natural phenomena like erupting volcanoes and vents, you just have to make do with the photography conditions you’re presented with and live with the result.

So I just took out my camera and started taking photo after photo after photo of the vent spewing lava. I attempted to take portraits and action shots of the volcano and its activity as well as landscape shots of the volcano in relation to its beautiful surroundings and the gorgeously colorful sky above. I moved to a couple of different spots to try and find different perspectives from which to shoot from but ended up spending most of my time at one location where Cynthia had found a spot to sit and chill.

Throughout our time there, I tried my best to look for Jeroen, the photographer I was communicating with on Instagram. When I had contacted him earlier in the evening to help assess the volcano situation for the evening, he told me that he too was headed to the volcano and that if we spot each other, we should definitely say hi. But unfortunately, I never did catch him there. I later found out that he had hiked way past the point where I had stopped and had made his way over the mountain ridge and to the backside of the valley and lava field, where he discovered lava in action. He found a place to see lava (relatively) close up! So jealous! And that’s the problem with attempting landscape photography on a short schedule… You just don’t have enough time or energy to roam around and scope out areas after a packed trip full of sleep-deprived days. How I wish we could’ve had another whole week in Iceland just to hang out in Reykjavik and follow the volcano live stream until we found the opportunity to leisurely make our way over to photograph the volcano when its activity increases.

We stayed at Geldingadalsgos for quite some time and didn’t actually start heading back to the car until close to 4:00am. Minh and Cynthia went on ahead as I took some time for my last few shots. Once I finished, I ended up basically running down the mountainside and arriving at the split in the hiking route at around 4:15am, at which time I could see the heavy clouds and fog rolling in over the mountains, creating a beautiful, early morning scene. I caught up with Cynthia and Minh shortly after that and by the time we actually turned on the car to leave, it was around 5:00am or so. Yeah, really late and really early… I drove home as everyone crashed in the car and got us all home safely around 5:30-6:00am, at which time we all just crashed, knowing that there was little sleep to be had this morning. Because we had an appointment at 9:00am to get our COVID swabs completed for our flight back home, we slept for a measly 2.75 hours until 8:45am, at which time we had to wake up and jump into the car to drive to our testing site. Luckily, the line and swabs were quick and we were in and out in about 15-20 minutes.

We went home after the swab. The three of us who were out until early this morning were pretty exhausted and groggy. But because it was our last full day in Iceland, Cynthia was determined to make the most of it despite severe sleep deprivation. So instead of taking a nap like Minh did, Cynthia and I joined my parents on a morning walk to explore downtown Reykjavik. We started from our AirBnB located near Klambartun Park and slowly made our way toward Laugavegur, the main street lined with shops and stores that ran through downtown Reykjavik. As we strolled down the quiet street, we spotted a long line in front of a store and decided to take a closer look at what people were waiting for. And it was pastries and baked goods at Sandholt Reykjavik! So we joined the line (though mistakenly, since we waited in the dine-in line before realizing there was a faster, shorter line just for take-out from the bakery) and bought our delicious morning pastries to enjoy outside at a table nearby. And the pastries were delicious! Especially the almond croissant Cynthia bought! SO SO GOOD!

The family sat and enjoyed our pastries and coffee before continuing on our lovely morning stroll through town. We walked around downtown and checked out some stores here and there before turning around to head back toward Hallgrimskirkja to meet up with a rejuvenated Minh. Along the way, I took the family on a detour so that they could see my old flat on Bergstaðastræti. We briefly got lost along the way since I couldn’t remember exactly where it was but we eventually found it after some backtracking.

We met up with Minh at Hallgrimskirkja and took a brief look inside the church before splitting up from mom and dad to meet up with Thorsteinn and his girlfriend Thordis Erla on the other side of downtown at a cute brunch place called The CooCoo’s Nest near the Old Harbour. Along the way there, we stopped by to look in a couple of stores and even ran into an old Stanford buddy, Bryce Kam, and his wife walking around Laugavegur. What a coincidence! We chatted in the streets for a few minutes before we had to bid them farewell so that we could make it to brunch on time.

After a relatively short walk through town to get to the Old Harbour side, we finally arrived at The CooCoo’s Nest and found Thor and Thordis already there waiting for us and for a table to open up. After officially meeting Thordis, we sat outside and started catching up over all sorts of things until it was time to be seated at our table inside. We continued on with our great conversations inside as we ate our delicious brunch (Cynthia and I ordered their Breakfast Burrito and Eggs Florentine, both which were yummy). We had a wonderful two-hour long late brunch with the two of them and shared a ton of great stories and talked about all sorts of topics, from Thor’s and Thordis’ life updates (including buying a house together, Thor getting a new job managing assets and portfolios, Thordis going back to school to study industrial finance after briefly working, Thordis’s previous work life working for Icelandair as a flight attendant) to stories about our trip and our lives in the States during a pandemic. So much fun to catch up after almost five years!

Once we had taken our photos and said farewell to each other, Cynthia and I slowly walked through downtown and made a couple of stops along the way as we headed back to the house while Minh went off on his own to look for Icelandic sweaters to buy. By the time we arrived back at the apartment, there was only 1.5 hours left until our next social gathering with Sveinn Magnússon and Kristin Bragadottir at their house for dinner. OH. MY. GOODNESS. I was so full and so tired by the time we got home that I couldn’t even think about more talking and more eating. We helped do some laundry before Cynthia and I went to lie down and take a quick power nap. Unfortunately, we were woken up soon after we went to bed and rushed out of the house so that we could make it to dinner on time at Sveinn’s. We drove over there, and when we arrived, we were warmly greeted by Sveinn and Kristin before Minh and dad finally showed up after their souvenir-buying stroll. It was such a pleasure to see Sveinn and Kristin again after these busy last 4.5 years!

Sveinn and Kristin welcomed us with open arms into their warm home, one that I have visited every trip I’ve made to Iceland. While waiting for dinner to be prepared, I introduced Sveinn and Kristin to my parents and Cynthia, who they had never met, and we shared stories in the living room while sipping on white wine. It was great to finally introduce everyone to each other after they had all heard stories about each other over the years. We caught up for a while before we were seated at the dining table for a fabulous and delicious dinner spread that included an appetizer of shrimp and cheese salad, mains and sides of baked salmon with a puff pastry top, half-mashed potatoes, and salad, and rhubarb oatmeal pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. What a yummy treat! Over dinner, we learned so much more about Iceland, past and present, from Sveinn and also learned about Kristin’s journey to her PhD in history and her authorship of several historical books as a result. Always so great to hear about the amazing things they are doing and the amazing knowledge they are always willing to share with us!

After dinner, we continued to sip on more wine while chatting more and looking through family photo books that Sveinn had collected over the years. I learned more specifics about Sveinn Magnusson as a physician. For example, before working at the ministry, he was a general practitioner in Sweden and Iceland and was boarded in Internal Medicine and Family Medicine. He then transitioned to working for the Icelandic government where he served primarily as director general, the second highest ranking civil, nonpolitical official in Iceland who reports directly to the prime minister. And while working at the ministry for 21 years, he served a total number of 16 prime ministers. These days, while not doing government work, Sveinn is primarily on call to do death exams on folks in the community. Every now and then, he is tasked with doing a little more than that. In one instance a few years ago, he was the physician who did the baseline intake physical exams for the group of Greenland boat guys who were involved in the murder of a young Icelandic woman. Crazy! After hearing all sorts of cool and crazy stuff and before we even knew it, it was 9:30pm and time for our exhausted family to bid Sveinn and Kristin farewell and a big thank you for hosting us at their lovely house on our short trip through Iceland.

Before driving home, we briefly stopped by the water so that everyone could check out Sun Voyager Sculpture and the Harpa Concert Hall. After some photos, we were pooped and drained, so we finally drove back home and started the task of packing and tidying up for our trip home. Minh’s energy tank was still holding some gas by this point (probably because of his effective power nap), so he decided to walk around downtown and check things out before hitting the sack. Cynthia decided to go with him to maximize her only full day in Reykjavik but because I was so tired, I stayed in to rest. I helped with laundry and hung out around the house until a bit past midnight, at which time I went to bed shortly before Cynthia and Minh returned home. What a ridiculously packed and exhausting last full day in Iceland! If only I had more time to just chill and do everything over a few days instead of over 36 hours… But at least there is one more half day left to enjoy tomorrow…

5 Things I Learned/Observed Today:

1. Today, tourism is the number one industry supporting the infrastructure and economy of Iceland, surpassing Iceland’s fishing industry. Therefore, when the pandemic hit and set the world on fire, tourism took a huge hit in Iceland and resulted in the crippling of Iceland’s economy. There were huge drops in revenue due to travel restrictions and mandates. But for some Icelanders, it was actually quite nice to have their country all to themselves once again after a decade-long boom in tourism. Local Icelanders got the chance to, once again, experience and enjoy Iceland’s beautiful nature the same way they used to enjoy it before tourists flocked to Iceland. It was now quieter and less crowded and locals could now go to tourist hotspots that they previously avoided due to tourist crowds (like the attractions along the South Ring Road). Icelanders got to travel locally with their families again and spent much of the pandemic just reconnecting with their families and friends. With tourism essentially on pause, it also gave nature time to rest and recover, something that was much needed in Iceland. Funny enough, though, despite everything I wrote above, when the country was open to tourists again, a lot of Icelanders, who are a social breed of people, actually appreciated and welcomed the tourists again. Not only did tourists bring money that was desperately needed into the country’s economy, but they also brought with them interesting conversation topics and new perspectives that helped break up the monotony of Icelanders keeping conversations afloat with people they’ve known their whole lives. During the pandemic, Icelanders actually missed seeing and talking to us tourists! Funny!

2. Thordis informed me that Icelandic weddings typically don’t have wedding parties to accompany the bride and groom to the altar but just have the bride and groom’s fathers present at the altar for their ceremony.

3. Supposedly, until 1974, the many rivers running through Iceland played a major role in travel and exploration in the country. Rivers were one of the major reasons that limited domestic traveling because, at the time, the country lacked a way to cross those rivers. However, around 1974, Iceland was gifted single-laned bridges to bridge them to broader horizons and to expand their previously-limited area for exploration.

4. When the latter half of the year arrives with its darkness, snow, and cold, windy weather, non-city-dwelling people in Iceland sometimes have to take up a secondary job or change the nature of their primary jobs because their work may be limited due to the challenging and harsh weather conditions. For example, if the farmers are growing crops, they can’t really do any of that in the winter. So they, along with other people from the countryside in need of something to do, sometimes volunteer to help in town. Sometimes they volunteer in civil roles and things like firefighting and teaching. Others will just take the down time to fix up their homes and do repairs they didn’t time to get to over the year. If you’re a farmer who raises animals or has animals to deal with, those farmers can continue working but maybe in a different way. Dairy farmers will continue their work with their cows. Sheep farmers will work to feed and breed their sheep after the sheep have been collected from the previously-green-but-now-yellow-and-brown fields where they roamed all summer. They can also start collecting the wool they shave off the sheep to get that side of the business going.

5. It isn’t that farmers don’t grow crops in Iceland because of the poor soil. Rather, they can’t grow successful crop fields because of the variation in the amount of sunlight and relative lack of sunlight during certain parts of the year. However, some manage to grow potatoes or other crops in very environmentally-controlled set-ups like greenhouses.

#withabackpackandcamera #huyphan8990 #travelblog #travel #blog #journal #Iceland #Europe #Geldingadalir #Volcano #Geldingadalsgos #Vents #Hiking #landscape #landscapephotography #eatingwithlocals #Icelanders #travelphotography #Hallgrimskirkja #Harpa #SunVoyager #Sandholt #Stanford #4thofJuly #wanderlust #worldtravels #seeingtheworld #july #2021 #fagradalsfjall

[moon-riverandme]

And in the Beginning There was... Light, Film Rolls, and Controversy.

Watching old movies has always been one of my favorite pastimes. I love the cracks in the film, the oddly tinted placements of color, the quick, scattered movements of the actors, and the slice of an intertitle. It all just makes sense when I think of those first filmmakers who were trying to make sense of their new medium. In my journey through film, I will start at the beginning. Well, sort of the beginning. Our main topic of discussion takes place in 1903. So we’ve skipped over a few years… 15 to be exact. I’ll sum them up now because if I miss a beat I’ll ruin the scene.

Let's start in October of 1888 when Louis Le Prince has just recorded the very first film. It’s short yet scenic; his family gathers in a garden and for the first time ever - they move. A man walks across the screen, the rigid bustles and day dress of two women sway as they turn away from the camera - ergo we have a moving image years before Edison would invent the kinetoscope. Of course, most don’t know of Le Prince and in school I never heard his name mentioned. In fact, I only heard of him through a Buzzfeed Unsolved video. So what happened? Why did history remember the names Edison and Lumière but not Le Prince?

There were many entries in the race to create the first film. And of course, there are arguments as to what cinema is in comparison to a bunch of still photographs played one after another. Strange, I think is this argument. For film is a series of stills or frames played one right after the other. Nevertheless, in 1878, we have the famous images of a galloping horse caught by twelve cameras set up by Muybridge to capture motion and to study animal locomotion. Motion but not a movie. What we needed was a camera that had a single lens capable of capturing a point of view. That’s what Le Prince did. Unfortunately, as history would see it, he mysteriously disappeared on a train to Paris in September 1890 right before his first public screening in New York carrying luggage that contained all of his work. Neither Le Prince or the luggage has ever been found. Quite the coincidence.

There are a few theories: Le Prince committing suicide, Le Prince’s own brother killing him, Le Prince fleeing due to his sexuality being outed but none have stuck... except one. Le Prince’s widow, Lizzie, believed Edison, his biggest competitor in the race, had him assassinated. The evidence? The discovery of Edison’s journal containing the following entry, which has been proven authentic. It read:

“Eric called me today from Dijon. It has been done. Prince is no more. This is good news but I flinched when he told me. Murder is not my thing. I'm an inventor and my inventions for moving images can now move forward.”

Take of that what you will.

Today, we are taught that Edison’s kinetoscope launched the novel medium of moving pictures into our familiar. When it was invented in 1891 by Edison and Dickson, the kinetoscope was a peepshow-like device with a "sight opening" on top that one viewer at a time could look into and watch a moving picture. Think about it like looking into a microscope - very different from how we view films now both in method and price, it was 50 cents for access to all films at a given venue.

In 1897, an improvement on Edison's device arose. Invented by the Lumière brothers, the cinematograph contained both a camera, projector, and hand crank. Now, audiences could sit and screen films. I'll circle back to Edison as he connects to our 1903 topic. But first, let's take a stop with the Lumière brothers.

Auguste and Louis Lumière are credited as the first filmmakers. Their documentary-esque films Workers Leaving The Lumière Factory and Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat are milestones in cinema. Known as travelogues or actualités, they showed the casual and working life of people in the mid to late 1890's. These shorts were even screened to audiences who jumped out of their seats at a train onscreen because they thought it would actually hit them. The Lumière Brothers took their screening all over the world, from Paris, to India, and China.

Watching these films, it's hard not to put yourself in the shoes of a passerby, a random person whose name we don't know, who exists in a few frames before disappearing to time. Like a fossil, it's interesting to examine what life was like back then. I love seeing the clothing. Everyone is so formal, at least compared to the laid back air of today. Even so, in the 1890’s people were moving away from the Victorian Era and into the “New Woman” Era. High necklines and longer sleeves were replaced by the open neck and short sleeves as morning turned to dusk. High chiffons under feathered hats were popular as was the shirtwaist style for work. All of these visible in the Lumière films.

Where we jump from reportage to fiction is where we jump from Lumière to Porter. And back to Edison, who had Porter working for him. Projectionist and electrician turned director, Edwin S. Porter was the brains behind many of the mechanics and techniques that have become so highly engrained in the making of films that the idea of them being novel seems almost impossible. In 1899, Porter became head of moving picture production at the Edison Manufacturing Company and throughout his career, which spanned about 15 years, he made more than 70 short films. So lets look at a few of them in detail.

Jack and the Beanstalk (1902)

You'll see that a lot of the narrative ideas for these early films spun directly out of fairytales. For an audience, fairytales were a familiarity. Thus, they were able to stitch together what they already knew about the characters and stories and better understand these new moving pictures. And Porter knew this from his work as a projectionist. He knew what engaged the audience most. And that wasn't just story, it was technique. Porter's films were revolutionary for what would become known as editing, at that time just cutting film. Simplistic and impactful, he knew how to compact time and create magic. Objects and people appear and disappear in a single cut. The camera remains still, a wide shot, and on a tripod but what's in front of it changes slightly, making for magical realism. For example, once Jack makes it back down to earth after descending the beanstalk, he grabs an ax and starts chopping it down. He's got to do this or the giant chasing him will make it down too. So he swings the ax a few times with all his might. From a large beanstalk, ripe with leaves, reaching up to the sky, we immediately cut to a destroyed one. The fact that we end one cut with Jack in the same position as we start the next, keeps from disrupting the audience even though everything else onscreen has changed. We've condensed time, Jack has saved the day, and the Giant has fallen to his death. Porter would expand on this editing style, perfecting it, discovering cross-cutting.

Life of an American Fireman (1903)

Cross-cutting or parallel action is so integral to editing that it happens in just about every film. Simply, two separate events are occurring - say, a woman trying to escape a fire inside of her house and firefighters rushing in a horse carriage to save her. These two events, perceived to be happening at the same time, are stitched together through editing so that the audience experiences both. Cut to the woman in her house as the fire inches closer to her. Cut to the firefighters rushing up the stairs. Will they get there? Will they save her? Cross-cutting serves to create tension and set the rhythm of a scene. Eventually, the two spatial points of view merge and the conflict should be resolved. This originates in Porter's films and Life of An American Fireman is the first one that shows it off.

Let's cut back to the first shot of this film, it's a trick shot. A sleepy fireman dreams of a mother putting her daughter to bed. Abruptly, the fire alarm is set off and he wakes up. Instead of cutting from the fireman dozing off in his chair to a separate shot of the mother, which would create confusion on whether the fireman was dreaming, Porter uses double exposure to frame the dream above the fireman shoulder. Double exposure had been employed by photographers since the 1860's to produce dreamy situations in otherwise ordinary places but in film, it first appears in Georges Méliès Four Heads are Better Than One. When we see the house aflame for the first time in Life of an American Fireman, the same mother and daughter from the dream pair reappear. The fireman's premonition connects back to the main drama of the story.

The Great Train Robbery (1903)

In this film we take the leap from a theatrical approach to cinematography, where the camera simply watches the action at a long-shot or observing eye, to being involved in the action. One way that Porter does this is by integrating the pan.

Panning is a technique that moves a camera side to side in a fixed location. We haven't taken the camera off of a tripod or stepped forward in anyway, we are simply turning left or right on the horizontal axis. If we took a step forward and followed a character or action we'd have a tracking shot. But we aren't there yet so plant your feet in the ground for now. Porter uses pans to reveal. The first pan is executed about six minutes into the film. The robbers jump off the caboose with their stolen goods and make a run for it. But where are they going? Queue the pan and we find out it's down some steep hills and into a forest. The subsequent shot is them in the thicket of a forest. Running passed the camera until all but one have exited camera left. But how will they get out? Queue the second pan to reveal horses - their getaway plan. This pan is masterfully done. I love the way Porter keeps his camera static and just observes the tumbling, running robbers until only one is left onscreen. Then and only then does he pan left to reveal the horses. By leaving only one person onscreen, not only does the audience have less to track but so does the camera. Simplifying the frame down to only the necessities of the action, one robber running away in a forest, amplifies the pan and makes the reveal feel complete - we reunite with the group of robbers and horses.

Depending on which version of the film you watch, you might be surprised by waves of color among a sea of black and white. Tinting whole films blue, amber, or sepia has been around since the origins of moving pictures, but in The Great Train Robbery, Porter selects specific actions or objects to tint. This was all done by hand.

Color is one big manipulator. Think of light blue and you'll likely picture endless summer skies; an air of calm. How about Green? I picture the tangled tree webs of a jungle - adventure, growth, the smell of dew on fresh leaves, nature. Now red. Explosions, fire, burst of emotion. Yellow? A bright, morning sun, a blooming sunflower, happiness, positivity, a new start. Early filmmakers used color to bring attention to specific objects, people, and actions. They used it to draw out an emotion from the viewer. They used it to connect themes of violence, love, and happiness. And they used it to spice up their frame.

Porter hand paints the explosion of a train lockbox bright orange and a deep red. The smokey pops from gunshots are also a fiery red. The dress of a dancing woman is bright yellow. The coat of another girl is a rich purple. The addition of color cultivates realism but also gives the film a flair of the imaginary.

So, we have the creative process of tinting to enhance the visual characteristics of a story and we have panning to push forward the important aspects of a narrative. Let's add a few more ingredients to our recipe.

Because the story cuts back and forth between the robbers, the operator, and the posse of men who will eventually hunt down the robbers, it has parallel action. Three separate storylines, integrated through the edit, that coverage at the end. Now that we have the way in which the story is cut and delivered, how about some specific effects?

In shots where the action occurs inside the prop train, which is not moving but the audience is meant to believe it is, Porter uses double exposure to ground his location in reality. He filmed exterior, moving shots and layered them onto the static train shots. In the '30s this would become known as "rear projection".

Additionally, Porter creatively placed his camera in new ways to produce frames that diverged from the typical wide shot; bringing the viewer closer into the action. For example, at about 2 minutes and 50 seconds in, the camera is propped on top of the engine car roof while a sneaking robber crawls passed and kills a fireman.

At last we arrive at the final shot. Diverging from the narrative, Porter set this up to look like a wanted poster. It is filmed in a medium close-up, which serves to focus all attention on the subject by filming them waist-up, having them fill up most of the frame, and blocking out the surrounding environment. The robber points his revolver right at the camera and shoots six times. If you've ever seen Goodfellas, Martin Scorsese recreates this at the end with Joe Pesci. Seemingly, the purpose was to shoot the audience. To tell them even though all of these robbers were killed in the end, their spirit doesn't die. It says "I'm warning you- it's still dangerous out there." Funny enough, this wasn't even the original intention. The shot was promotional and where it ended up in the film was entirely up to the projectionist. It could've just as well been placed at the beginning if they wanted. Even so, the break in the fourth wall and punch of dramatics that ended the film still prevail through cinema history today. Completing the recipe for one the first Westerns, ripe with shootouts, chase sequences, bandits, and suspense.

The Kleptomaniac (1905)

When moving pictures are void of sound and spoken dialogue it's a bit difficult to understand what characters are doing onscreen. Heightened emotional and physicalized acting made up for this. Through facial expressions and over the top, exaggerated body movements, audiences could connect the dots to figure out what was going on in a scene. But in 1903, Porter directed Uncle Tom's Cabin and introduced intertitles, words that would appear printed onscreen. Early iterations of intertitles read like book chapters. They described the main action that was about to take place in the scene. In Uncle Tom's Cabin some examples include: "The Escape of Eliza", "Rescue of Eva", and "Tom and Eva in the Garden. In The Kleptomaniac, intertitles state location and give context to where we are, which is helpful because without them, I don't think I could follow what was going on - at all.

Location is such a main element in this film that intertitles are practically non negotiable. "Leaving Home", "Arriving at the Store", "Home of Thief", and "Court Room Scene", prepare us with the information that is necessary to fully understand the purpose of each scene. The department store shot isn't clear-cut. It could've been a mail room or an office. If we miss that it's a department store that our main character is visiting (and stealing from), we miss the connection to the thief stealing food later on in the film and thus miss the whole theme of class disparities. The intertitles supplement for lack of onscreen information and sound. They would be used regularly in the silent era, branching into dialogue intertitles and expositionary intertitles before dying out with the advent of sound.

[reidology]

He Was A Skater Boy... (Chapter 2) (Hotch/Reid)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid 

Summary: Spencer and Aaron finally meet and they make a deal. Oh how the cherry blossoms.

Words: 1,575

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 2: Something Wicked This Way Comes...

It was safe to say that reading at the skatepark was now part of Spencer’s routine. Most evenings he would get to the park and read his assigned philosophy readings on top of the halfpipe, then move on to his own books. When it became too dark, he would stop reading and watch the magnificent sunset. It never got old. Here he felt relaxed. Finally, Spencer had found a safe space other than his therapist’s office. Indeed, this place belonged only to him.

That was until one evening, when his new-found comfortable routine was wonderfully disrupted by the hottest guy he’d ever seen.

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Spencer’s nose was floating around the depths of a wondrous world of murder and mystery fabricated by Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle when it happened. The sun was setting, casting strange shadows around the park, he hadn’t noticed a particular large silhouette rolling his way. Not until he heard the sound of wheels barreling toward his serene perch did he look up, and oh he wished he hadn’t , because when he looked up he came face to face with none other than the guy-with-no-shoes from days earlier.

He stood on top of the opposite halfpipe, jumped down on his board and came towards Spencer. But when he got to him he didn’t stop, simply rolled back to the other side and did quite an impressive turn-flip-trick where he spun and brought the board to his hand. Is he trying to impress me? Because it’s working, thought Spencer. The dude landed with a flourish right next to him. Spencer looked up half in shock and half in awe (because that was pretty hot). He couldn’t stop looking at his face, it was so angular and gorgeous and the light framed his face perfectly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. The definition of tall, brooding, and handsome. He died a little when the guy nodded down at him and spoke, “Sup, do you like ice cream?”

His voice was so deep . That and the fact that he was towering over him was too much for his little genius brain compute. Quantum theory he could handle, helplessly attractive men brought his IQ down into the negatives.

And how could anyone expect him to be coherent when the guy looked like that , and not just his face but… everything, from the slope of his shoulders, to the curves of his triceps, to the way his lean frame dipped into very delicious-looking calves, and finally those infamous socked feet, still shoeless.  It was when Spencer had been eyeing this handsome stranger’s feet for a good ten seconds that he realized he’d been asked a question.

“Uhmm.. pardon?” Casual. Polite. Was he in this guy’s way or something?

The man chuckled sickly sweet and gave a devilish smirk, “I asked if you like ice cream?” And he lifted his hand, wherein he held a cone of what seemed to be chocolate ice cream. How had Spencer not noticed that unfairly-hot-guy-with-no-shoes was holding ice cream? Did he skate up here with that? Did he do those tricks without dropping the cone?

Either way, Spencer did not know how to respond. He was feeling very confused, amongst other things...

“Uhh… I- sure…?”

The guy grinned and sat down next to Spencer, skateboard on his lap, and handed him the cone. Spencer hesitantly reached and took it, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Hi, I’m Aaron. I’ve been watching you”,

“Oh?” Spencer immediately blushes at the thought of this stupidly attractive man, Aaron , taking notice of him. And even though Aaron had already shown the classic signs of a Dangerous Situation™ (giving him ice cream and watching him), Spencer couldn’t help but be absolutely smitten.  

“Yeah, you’re always reading,” he nodded at the open book in Spencer’s lap, “what are you doing here?”

What was he doing here? “I- uhmm..” What was he supposed to say? Fuck it , “My therapist wants me to get out of the house and find a hobby.”  Way to sound normal, you really hyped yourself up there, idiot.

“So you chose skateboarding?”

“What? No…I’m just studying here instead of at home. And when I finish my work I read my own books.”  

Spencer could feel Aaron’s intense gaze boring into his face, he was beginning to notice that Aaron’s natural expression was a perfect dark, (sexy) , serious pout.

Aaron broke his attention from Spencer’s face and glanced beyond the boy’s lap to the satchel overflowing with books, “... you read all of those in one day?”

“Uh… actually I read all of those in an hour.”

Aaron blinked a few times.

“Really? You must be… I mean, how do you do that?”

He was sure he was going to say ‘you must be a loser’ but he tried not to think about that. So far, Aaron had been nice to him.

“Um, I don’t know. I have an eidetic memory and read a lot as a child, so I guess my baby brain just learned to process words quicker than others.”

“How quickly?”

“20,000 words per minute.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows in interest, still giving that smoldering stare. He was so very intrigued by this strange, skinny, adorable kid. From the moment he saw him hunched over, reading, engulfed in his own world, Aaron had been fascinated.  And when their eyes met that fateful evening, all he could think of was I need to know him .

“So what are you studying for?”

“Right now I’m going for a BA in Philosophy.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the philosphe type , smart guy like you ought to be a scientist or something,” Aaron chuckled.

That laugh would be the death of him. It was so deep and sultry, Spencer felt like burying himself in it.

Sheepishly, Spencer corrected him, “Actually, I have two PhDs in Mathematics and Chemistry. I wanted to begin an engineering PhD this summer but my mother got sick and I had to take care of her, so I figured a Bachelor’s in Philosophy wouldn’t take up too much of my time.”

Aaron gawked at him and made no attempt to hide it.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Damn. Well, here we are, a 19 year old genius and 21 year old law school burnout. Funny we’d end up in the same place at the same time.’’

The pink-orange-purple of the sky seemed to give Spencer a boost of confidence,

“Weren’t you stalking me? That’s not much of a coincidence,” he teased.

“I wasn’t stalking you, I said I was watching you. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I came to say hi.” Aarons eyes glistened.

Spencer couldn’t help the tinge of pink on his cheeks and the small smile he gave. Aaron came to say hi. For a while they sat in silence, both considering what to say next. The older man opened his mouth to say something but Spencer took charge.

“You’re a law student? Do you go to Georgetown?”

Aaron nodded, “First year at Georgetown, did pre-law at Columbia.”

“Wow, those are good schools! I’m surprised you’re failing!”

“Yeah, Georgetown’s a lot more than I was expecting. Nothing you couldn’t handle I’m sure, Mr. Philosophy-Bachelor’s-For-Fun.”

Spencer laughed a genuine laugh, he didn’t answer though, because Aaron was right, he’d totally crush it in law school.

“You go to Georgetown, too? How come I haven’t seen you around campus? The Law Center isn’t that far from the Philosophy Department.”

“Well I don’t live on campus, I’m with my mom. And most of my classes are early morning, my therapist said that would be a good way of starting the day but really all it did for me was give me an unhealthy coffee dependency.”

Aaron actually laughed brightly at that.

“So, you’re going to tell your therapist you took up skateboarding when in reality you’ve just been reading in a skatepark?”

Spencer nodded bashfully.

“What are you going to do when she asks to see it?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Well, it seems we’re both in a bit of a predicament, huh? What do you say we help each other out?”

“How do you mean?”

Aaron smirked that same wicked smirk from the first night they saw each other leaned in, “I’ll teach you to skateboard… if…”, he bit his lip and looked into the younger boy’s eyes, “you help me pass Midterms.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Aaron leaned in impossibly closer and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.”

“Spencer,” He said deliciously, “do we have a deal?”

Aaron’s gaze was so intense but he couldn’t look away. His eyes were a deep, rich, coffee color with glistening flecks of green and they did not falter. This close, Spencer could see the few light scattered freckles feathering his nose and cheeks. And he was still biting his lip, Spencer stared and didn’t care. The breathtaking man in front of him was really offering to spend more time with him, how could he say no? Penelope would be so proud to find out he just had a conversation with a stranger and he was going to see him again.

“Deal.”

Aaron grinned maniacally, “Sweet.”

They sat just smiling at each other for a little bit, then Spencer asked, “By the way, why don’t you wear shoes?”

Aaron shrugged, smirked and brought his lips close to Spencer’s ear, “I like to feel the board,” he whispered.

Spencer was a goner. The ice cream had melted.

thank you for reading <3 leave some feedback/like/reblog <3

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