#the time loops. forgetting everything before the loops while remembering everything within the loops with clarity. the act 4 ending | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kyufilms · 3 years ago

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ㅤㅤ⌗ kanemoto yoshinori ―︎ over & over

synopsis ―︎ in which you’ll always be able to count on the fact that you can find comfort in your best friend, over and over again.

wc + genre + pairing + warnings ―︎ 4.5k words worth of angst and fluff for a bittersweet, one-sided love. best friend!yoshi x gn!reader. not proofread. lowercase intended. i think i was a little too mean o.o (i won’t say the exact trope, but if you want to, you could check the tags for some clarification at the end!! idk how well i actually executed the intended concept, so i thought i’d throw the explanation in just incase).

request ―︎ jules 🥺 i love your work 💙 could i please request an angst imagine for yoshi from treasure? maybe with the concept of best friend!yoshi too?

director’s notes ―︎ AHHHHH!!! i’ve had this idea in my mind for months & even talked about the concept with loki a little while back, so i was really excited to be writing this even though it makes me sad </3 it turned into more of a fic than an imagine lmao. the whole idea is heavily inspired by the song ‘let’s fall in love for the night’ by finneas, but i specifically got inspired after listening to this cover by junny :] there may or may not be a few elements of the fic inspired by ‘best friend’ by rex orange county as well, since i had that & junny’s lfilftn cover looped back to back as i wrote. also! yoshi was almost in reader’s situation, but i actually couldn’t decide whether i wanted yoshi to be person a or person b in terms of the plot, so i flipped a coin to choose how it would go for me :3 anyways, i’m not sure how happy i am with this, but i hope you like it anyways anon <3 im so sorry

ㅤ

kanemoto yoshinori couldn’t remember how much time had passed since the first time he told you that he loved you.

maybe it’d been a few weeks. maybe a few months had passed. for all he knew, it could’ve been a little over a year now. maybe two. if he was being honest, he could no longer keep count of the days going by. everything always felt like a blur to him.

if you asked him how long he’d loved you, he’d say he wasn’t sure. falling in love with you was never his plan, but it happened before he even realized it, and when he finally did, he didn’t want to stop. it’s not like he could’ve, anyways. even if he wanted to.

maybe knowing how much time had passed was no longer all that important.

after all, you were his best friend. all that really mattered to him was nothing would change between you two. having you by his side was all the comfort yoshi could ever ask for.

ㅤ ⇌︎

it was 08:31 on a sunday night when notifications illuminated up the once-dark screen of your best friend’s phone, indicating new messages from you. it was almost as if he knew it was you before he even checked the text. it hadn’t even taken thirty seconds for yoshi to come running in from another room when he heard the soft ping of his phone.

08:31 pm | y/n 🌱

they broke up with me.

we got into another fight because they kept telling me to stop hanging around you

and then they told me that they were done with my bullshit because they were tired of me putting you before them

they said that they finally found somebody else

and then they broke up with me.

the second he read the messages, it was as if he was on autopilot, bumbling around the living room in search of his wallet & keys. he found himself forcing on his shoes and grabbing one of his hoodies from the coat closet. he didn’t even bother pulling it on, opting to clutch it in his hand instead. he was rushing to you, nearly forgetting to lock the door on his way out of his apartment.

you saw the three little dots pop up within two minutes of hitting send on your last message to him, his responses hard to read as the tears in your eyes blurred your vision.

08:32 | yoshinori ☁️

don’t go anywhere

i’ll be there in 25

ㅤ ⇌︎

though yoshi said it’d take twenty-five minutes to get to you, it actually only took fifteen. he may or may not have been going a little bit over the speed limit here and there, and he really shouldn’t have been, but in his eyes, a little bit of trouble was worth it.

you were worth it. always.

you couldn’t remember opening the door to let him in. all you knew was you were sobbing one moment, and the next, he was stepping through the threshold of your front door, pulling you into his arms so you could cry your eyes out as much as you wanted to.

“it’s gonna okay,” he mumbled, rubbing your back as your tears began to form a spot on his shirt. “they’re an idiot. a jealous idiot. fuck what they say; they don’t deserve you, y/n.”

there was a little pang in your chest that hit you as your best friend spoke; you couldn’t even respond. instead, you found yourself hugging yoshi tighter as you tried to bury your head further into his chest, too upset to pull yourself together.

“it’s alright, i’ve got you.”

you’re not quite sure how long you stood there, sobbing in his arms as though you were in hysterics. it could’ve been anywhere from a few more seconds to an entire hour later, but he didn’t mind it at all.

yoshi always knew how to comfort you. he’d never judge you for being frustrated or upset; instead, he’d rather hold your hand and listen to you get everything out of your system. if you didn’t want to talk, that was alright too. he didn’t mind the silence; he just wanted to be there.

he just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t alone.

“you can let it out, i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”

ㅤ ⇌︎

when you had calmed down enough to pull yourself away from your best friend’s grasp, he guided you over to your couch, making sure you were comfortable before he excused himself for a moment.

curiously, you watched as the red-haired boy busied himself, running back and forth down the hall once or twice, even popping into the kitchen. he was back within all of two minutes, a blanket, your favourite stuffed animal, and two spoons to go along with the emergency tub of your favourite ice cream in his arms.

you didn’t remember telling him where everything was, but you figured he must’ve known you too well & it just slipped your mind.

he didn’t say anything as he began putting things onto the coffee table to free up his hands. instead, he simply laid the blanket over you and placed the stuffed animal by your side. the hoodie that he’d brought along with him reappeared as well, resting in your lap a moment after he passed it over.

only then did yoshi reach for the spoons and the ice cream tub, making himself comfortable as he sat opposite of you in order to see your face. he found that you were still watching him curiously, so he finally spoke up.

“did you wanna talk about it? or would you rather we just binge through one of your favourite shows and eat this entire tub?” he asked, holding it up with a small, comforting smile.

only kanemoto yoshinori could make you laugh despite being in tears mere minutes before, even if it was only a soft giggle.

so with that, you tugged on the hoodie that had previously laid in your lap, beckoning the boy across from you to scoot closer so he could share the blanket.

ㅤ ⇌︎

“don’t you have to leave soon?” you asked softly, your head resting upon your best friend’s shoulder.

“no. not if you don’t want me to,” he replied, lightly squeezing you into a side hug as he rubbed your arm comfortingly. “are you feeling any better?”

“if i said yes, would you believe me?” you joked, reaching for his hand. you still felt shitty, but something about yoshi’s presence comforted you. the idea of him simply being there already made you feel a little bit lighter than before.

sometimes, it felt like the red-haired boy next to you was the only person in the world who understood you, but that wasn’t a bad thing. whenever the thought crossed your mind, it made sense to you; he was there for you through thick & thin.

everything was just so easy when it came to him; there was no reason to argue. you had your opinions, he had his, and even despite some of your differences, at the end of the day, you not only felt respected, but you felt seen.

“let’s take a drive,” he changed the topic. “we don’t have to go anywhere in particular. we could just get something to eat and drive around until you feel okay, yeah?”

“i’d like that,” you smiled softly, picking your head up from his shoulder and taking his hand as he pulled you up from the comfort of the couch.

ㅤ ⇌︎

a few hours would pass before you made it back home from the drive, but it’s not like the two of you had much to do anyway.

“thank you for cheering me up,” you spoke up gently, your tone barely audible as you focused your eyes on the last stoplight before the two of you would reach your house.

“it’s nothing,” he shrugged, stealing an unnoticed glance at you as the two of you waited for the light to flicker from red to green.

you were ethereal in his eyes. sure, you weren’t wearing anything fancy, and maybe your eyes were a little red & puffy from crying earlier, but it wouldn’t change his opinion of you. he’d grown to love every little thing about you, even outside of your looks.

he loved that you were the type to stop while you were out & rush over to pet every dog that you could if you were given a chance.

he loved that you were the type to text him the dumbest jokes at three in the morning, just because it made you laugh like a fool and you wanted to share something you thought was funny.

he loved that you would never lie to him, even if you wanted to. you were always honest with him, and though you could sound blunt or sarcastic at times, he appreciated it. frankly, it made him feel like you were comfortable with him.

for every little quirk you had, yoshi had found a reason to love you.

“i just don’t like seeing you sad,” he added onto his previous words, pulling his gaze off you after a moment. he still worried for you, knowing how bad you were probably hurting after everything that happened.

yet, even when you were sad, he couldn’t help but adore you.

ㅤ ⇌︎

“it’s really late. are you sure you don’t wanna just stay over?”

it was 03:52 in the morning, but you couldn’t really understand why he was so insistent on leaving at first. you couldn’t explain why, but you were somewhat sad that he was leaving; it was like a part of you knew something was off, but it didn’t make sense to you.

you’d see him tomorrow, right?

“it’s alright,” he smiled reassuringly as he stood in the doorway, “i have a few things i still need to sort through at home anyways. if you need anything though, you know you can always call me.”

the door to your house was half-closing when you found yourself reaching for the handle and stopping it before it could shut completely. the next thing you knew, you were outside, standing right behind the boy who had frozen in his place.

“hey, is everything alright?” you called after him gently, “i know i probably should’ve asked you sooner, but i just wanted to check. i was a little distracted when you were busy cheering me up earlier, but now that i think about it, you seem a little down.”

if there was one thing in the world you hated, it was liars.

you mentioned it several times before. you would rather be hurt upfront by the people you care about most instead of having them spare you the pain with a teeny little lie. at least then, even if they hurt you, you could convince yourself that you’d learn to cope.

when your best friend turned around to face you, something was off, but you didn’t know what, and unluckily for you, the boy that stood across from you was one hell of an actor at times.

“i’m alright, y/n,” he relaxed a little, giving you another one of his signature reassuring smiles. “really, i was just worried about you.”

if you could curse him and that smile of his, you probably would. you’d never admit it, and you might not even know it yourself, but you had a weak spot when it came to him.

yoshi always knew how to reassure you; it was like a double-edged sword, both a gift and a flaw.

“okay,” you let your hands find their way into the pocket of his hoodie that you had yet to take off. “you’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? this friendship thing works two ways, you know.”

the sound of his laughter at the words you said had been enough to make you smile subconsciously. maybe you were overthinking things. you had a long day, after all.

“of course i would. you’re my best friend, after all.”

“you promise?” it was as if you were under a spell. you don’t know what prompted you to ask him that question; you didn’t even realize what you’d said until he answered.

“i promise.”

the pressure that built up in your chest had completely vanished by then, and before you knew it, you were smiling like a fool and wrapping your arm around his torso. “alright, i know it’s late and you’re gonna tease me for being sappy, so i won’t keep you here any longer,” you joked, squeezing him lightly before pulling away. “text me when you get home, just so i know, okay?”

“i will.”

“goodnight, i love you,” you grinned, laughing softly as you turned around to walk back to your door.

the random ‘i love you’ that you had thrown in at the end of your sentence was meant to be harmless.

while your best friend wasn’t really one to say it, you, on the other hand, expressed it freely. over the years you’d known him, you figured he was just careful about saying it back, so you didn’t ask questions. it never seemed to do any damage before, and the fact that yoshi never really said it back hadn’t affected you much either.

something about that night was different.

if you had just stayed looking in his direction a few more seconds, maybe you would’ve seen it; the way he froze all over again as if he didn’t see it coming.

unfortunately for you, your timing seemed to be off, and as you turned around once you stepped foot in the doorway, he snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in.

there was a smile on his face, but if you’d seen it, you couldn’t be sure if it was to reassure you or himself. he could mask his mixed emotions all he wanted, but the usual softness of his gaze wouldn’t quite reach his eyes the same way it usually would.

he knew something you didn’t.

“goodnight, y/n. i love you.”

ㅤ ⇌︎

when yoshi woke up in his apartment hours later, a single thought crossed his mind.

maybe this time would be different.

a mix of hopefulness and uneasiness bubbling up inside him left him too nervous to check his phone. he didn’t dare look for the hoodie he left behind with you, nor did he turn on the news or check the calendar to be sure of the day’s date.

he was scared.

while he hoped that things would be different, he was downright terrified of what would happen if his hopes came true.

perhaps he should’ve thrown all caution to the wind.

maybe if he didn’t overthink everything, he’d stop hoping he’d see you sooner & actually do something about it. as luck would have it though, yoshi was careful. perhaps a little too careful.

he’d force himself to wait and see if he was right.

ㅤ ⇌︎

the hours seemed to go by at the slowest rate.

when the red-haired boy finally allowed himself to leave his bedroom, the sun was no longer in the sky. instead, a dark blue hue painted the endless sights above his head, the color continuing to fade away over time.

08:21 pm.

the silence that filled the air only thickened as the minutes seemed to count down, but the thoughts running through yoshi’s mind were too loud to ignore.

what would happen to the two of you afterwards?

would things stay the same?

if something changed, would it be for better or for worse?

the loudest thought of all, however, was the one that had worried him the most.

would he lose you for good if you found out?

08:29 pm.

he didn’t want to risk losing you. he couldn’t.

you were all he’d known and all he ever wanted.

how was he supposed to let you go if things didn’t go right?

08:31 pm.

the familiar chime that indicated notifications brought the boy out of his thoughts before he could think any further, and when he realized what had happened, he froze for a second.

walking out to the living room with a hint of speed in his steps, he slowed as he approached the coffee table where his phone lay. the screen lit up as the notifications rolled in, and at the top of the bubbles, he saw the familiar letters that formed your name.

the feeling or realization that had hit him in the moment was confusing. yoshi wasn’t really sure what he should have felt when everything clicked.

he’d gotten his hopes up only to scare himself into overthinking, but with the way things had turned out, it seemed he shouldn’t have done either.

he was relieved, but he was also disappointed.

regardless, his feet moved on autopilot once more as he picked up his phone to respond to you. he’d found his wallet sandwiched between the couch cushions in it’s usual place, and his keys were on the edge of the kitchen counter.

he wasn’t sure how many times this moment had actually passed, but it was enough to be etched into his memory. he already knew where everything was; he didn’t even have to look up to gather his things.

still, a small part of him wished that the universe was playing tricks, thinking that maybe, just maybe, when he opened the door to the coat closet, there’d be some kind of indication that things had worked out in the way he had hoped.

maybe the world is against me, he decided, feeling that small part of him crumble down into nothing in mere seconds. he knew that he should have expected this to happen by now, but still, he let himself get his hopes up.

pulling out the same hoodie he’d left with you the night before, he clutched onto the fabric in one hand as he opened the text conversation & typed out the same reply.

08:32 | yoshinori ☁️

don’t go anywhere

i’ll be there in 25

ㅤ ⇌︎

“i thought you didn’t even know this artist,” you piped up, “how do you know every line to this song?”

the smallest hint of a smile found itself creeping onto your face as you relaxed into the passenger’s seat of yoshi’s car. it was just past eleven in the evening when he suggested that you take a drive to get your mind off of things.

you, for one, had no clue where you were, not even sure what direction you’d been going in anymore. then again, it made sense; you’d been distracted.

the car ride felt too quiet, but you didn’t really want to talk about things anymore. most of the stuff you needed out of your system had already been covered when you talked earlier. so, instead of making conversation, you reached for your phone, scrolling through your music app as the bluetooth connected you to the speakers.

“i guess i must’ve heard it somewhere,” the boy across from you spoke softly, a small smile on his face as he hummed along to the fading outro of the song.

you shook your head in disbelief, even letting out a small laugh as you let your gaze shift back to the window. “you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“maybe you’re just a little late when it comes to noticing things,” he teased lightheartedly, ignoring the bittersweet twinge he felt in his chest.

he was glad to see you feeling better, but the fact that he was the reason behind it only amplified the fluttery feeling in his chest.

ㅤ ⇌︎

you let out a sigh as you fell back onto your couch when the two of you had returned from the late-night drive. “do you think i should just call in sick for work?”

you both knew exactly why you asked that question. it made sense, considering the fact that your now-ex worked in the same place as you. you’d much rather lock yourself in your room and never come out, not even wanting to think about what your ex might say about it.

unluckily for you, work was work, and you couldn’t just hide away forever, even if yoshi couldn’t help but tell you what you wanted to hear. he always caved when it came to you.

“if you want to,” he shrugged, “it’s late, and you have an early shift, but if you ask me, you deserve the break.”

“i like the way you think,” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips as you gave him a look. “what time is it?”

“time for you to get some rest,” he responded, laughing a little bit when you scrunched your face up at his light sarcasm. “it’s a little over half-past three in the morning. almost four.”

“we were out that long?” your eyes widened, not realizing how long the two of you had been out on your drive. “it barely felt like an hour to me.”

a nod from your best friend confirmed your surprise as you sat up a little bit, still confused as to how it felt like you had lost so much time. it felt too short.

yoshi would probably agree with you on that.

despite how many times he’d lived through the same scenarios, he couldn’t deny that he wished he could spend more time with you. whenever he was by your side, time seemed to pass even faster than it usually did.

perhaps that’s why he wasn’t sure how much time had passed since then; he could no longer keep track of how many times he’d been stuck reliving that same night over and over.

the night when he told you he loved you for the first time.

ㅤ ⇌︎

“it’s really late. are you sure you don’t wanna just stay over?”

the same words you usually said each time had etched themselves into yoshi’s head, along with a number of other things. he could essentially recite the entire day & night’s events.

it wasn’t always exact. sometimes, little bits and pieces changed. sometimes you didn’t say certain things or make certain decisions, but most of your words and actions stayed the same.

not that you would know that, of course.

yoshi, on the other hand, had relived the day enough to know it was practically pointless doing anything else. there was a time when he would go through the same events, only changing a detail or two to see if it would change anything.

he couldn’t count how many times he’d switched his approach to things anymore. the minor details turned into major details, and if he was asked, he’d probably swear that he was stuck at that point in time forever.

no matter what happened, when 08:31 pm rolled around, your text messages would appear on the screen of his phone and he’d be rushing out of his apartment to get to you.

no matter what happened, he’d still be wishing you goodnight as he stood at your doorstep at 03:52 in the morning, telling you that he loved you for what would appear to be the first time.

no matter what happened, you’d still assume he meant that he loved you platonically. he’d still drive himself home, not bothering to correct you in fear of losing you.

the end result always seemed to have the exact same outcome.

“it’s alright, i have a few things i still need to sort through at home anyways. if you need anything though, you know you can always call me.”

you’d heard the exact same words god knows how many times now, but you’d never know it.

“wait,” you called out, stepping past the threshold of your front door for the umpteenth time.

he already expected you to stop him, but he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter as your arms wrapped around his torso in a tight grip. he was weak when it came to you.

“thank you for being here when i needed you most,” you mumbled, the familiar feeling of tears pricking your eyes causing you hide your face away in his chest out of embarrassment. “if i’m honest, i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“i’ll always be here for you,” he mumbled back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he held you in his arms for a moment. he needed to say it, even if you’d forget his words in the next few hours. he needed you to know. “always. you know that.”

when you pulled back from the hug, you giggled a little bit. maybe you were tired, maybe you were laughing at yourself, but regardless, you felt shy. “i must look like an idiot right now, huh?”

“of course not,” he replied, moving one of his hands up so he could gently wipe the tears off of your face.

“i don’t like liars,” you teased, though you still avoided his eyes as you tried to collect yourself. “i should let you go now, hm?”

when you looked up at him, he couldn’t find it in himself to respond; all he could do was give you one of his signature smiles of reassurance.

you caught him off guard when you pulled him back into your grasp. your grip was a little tighter this time, as if you were holding on like you were scared he’d disappear. you only seemed to surprise him even more when you spoke up with slightly muffled words.

“goodnight, i love you.”

two nights in a row, you said it first. that was new.

he knew that the chances of things going back to normal were low. the universe had given him a clear message; he wouldn’t be able to move forward from then on, no matter what he did. he was stuck in the same series of events without any idea as to how he could end the cycle.

“goodnight, y/n. i love you.”

those last three words felt like a kick to the stomach every time he said them. it felt was like someone was playing a cruel joke on him.

a part of him wanted to explain; to make it completely clear that he loved you the way he did. he couldn’t even put it into words sometimes, but another part of him was glad he could never the courage to explain his true feelings to you.

he couldn’t find it in himself to risk losing you, so he didn’t dare to try, even if it meant that you would know how he really felt. he’d never forgive himself if he allowed you to slip right through his fingers and walk out of his life, so he’d bite his tongue and keep his mouth shut.

you were all he’d known and all he ever wanted.

it had taken him years to muster up the courage to tell you that, only for you to think he meant it as nothing more than a friend.

that’s what he was, after all ―︎ your best friend.

perhaps you’d forgive him for lying to you in another life.

perhaps kanemoto yoshinori was a fool for getting his hopes up.

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© kyufilms | please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my works, regardless of whether or not it’s within or outside of this website. the content that i write is strictly fictional & made for entertainment purposes only.

#🎞 ᯓ treasure productions | theatre iii ―︎ kanemoto yoshinori #treasure imagines #treasure scenarios #yoshi #yoshinori #kanemoto yoshinori #yoshi imagines #yoshinori imagines #yoshi scenarios #yoshinori scenarios #yoshi x reader #yoshi angst #treasure #treasure angst #treasure yoshi #📨 ᯓ requested #it’s a time loop au btw! i usually don’t leave the exact trope out of the description (i think) but i did it for the element of surprise lol #i tried to make it a little more obvious as it went on but it was hard to project my words in the way i wanted #sorry for any confusion!

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heliads · 4 years ago

Text

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent.

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century.

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.”

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow, accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

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onceupon · 4 years ago

Text

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!!

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library.

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table.

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.”

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table.

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes.

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept.

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice.

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing.

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant.

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses.

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff.

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky.

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip.

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons.

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide.

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears.

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies

Olivia: :(

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind.

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp.

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears.

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body.

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up.

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile.

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning.

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee.

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat.

“So what are you chasing tonight?”

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead.

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously.

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on.

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return.

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement.

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow.

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted.

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed.

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows.

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence.

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking.

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued.

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now.

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober.

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you.

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night.

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things.

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before.

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days.

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did.

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own.

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off.

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops.

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall.

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside.

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you.

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone.

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again.

---

🏷: @hopebaker @pogueslandia @mardema

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine

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transmalewife · 4 years ago

Text

Alright, let's talk about attachment

I can’t find clear information on when exactly the non-attachment rule was added to the code. It was either soon before or soon after the great sith war. Either way, for the VAST majority of the existence of the Jedi, it wasn’t a thing. Jedi got married and had families for over 20000 years, then added the non-attachment rule, which ultimately led to their destruction. And before anyone tries to tell me I believe they deserved to be genocided, I don’t. I have never actually seen anyone say that, but I see people argue against it constantly, and imply anyone who doesn’t think the Jedi were perfect and blameless thinks that. I don’t think they deserved to die, I think they needed to change. And Yoda says that himself, many times. The Jedi weren’t prepared for the return of the sith, or the war. They had separated from the military 1000 years before, and the galaxy was in relative peace all this time, so the order’s role changed to one that worked very well with their rules. Detachment meant they could be impartial when overseeing political disagreements, lack of possessions meant they would be focused on the mission at hand and not prone to taking bribes, and distancing themselves from the general population meant they were more or less uniform, and could be trusted not to side with someone for personal reasons.

All of this falls apart once they become an army again. Impartiality is a flaw when they have to defend one side at all cost and not even allow themselves to consider compromise. Lack of possessions and attachment to people means they are prone to taking unnecessary risks, because they have nothing to lose, and do things like send 14 year olds into battle, thinking of the “greater good” over the safety of children. And the order being a monolith, with set rules and philosophy distinct from the rest of the population meant the Jedi trusted Dooku long after they should have stopped, because he used to be a Jedi after all, surely he still follows the code.

Now, I am not saying non-attachment is always bad, I think it served a very specific purpose in the order, and to some extent worked for many years. However.

Humans are a social species. Human babies NEED physical contact and affection to develop physically. Children need a stable, strong, and supportive relationship to their caregiver to properly develop psychologically. And after last year I don’t think anyone will argue that adults don't need connection with other people just as much. And not just shallow interactions, but open affection and love. Love of any kind, because claiming that the Jedi only forbid romantic love is just untrue. I think people tend to forget that "Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi's life. So you might say, that we are encouraged to love." isn’t the actual doctrine, it’s a literal pick up line that Anakin uses on Padme.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan both get criticized by other Jedi for their entirely platonic attachment to Anakin, and vice versa. Now, humans are the most common species in the galaxy, and in the Jedi order. Many other species are near-human, so it’s safe to assume at least some, if not most of them also need that companionship and affection to develop and live happy and stable lives. I do believe that non-attachment is a valid philosophy and chosen path in life if done carefully and within reason, I just don’t think we have a single major character that actually applies to. And chosen is an important word here. Jedi don’t get much of a choice. I’m not trying to start the baby-stealing debate here. I hear the argument of ‘force sensitives are dangerous if left untrained, and said training should start as early as possible’. I think finding a way to deal with that problem was an insanely complicated decision, and taking children into the temple as young as possible is not a bad solution. I don’t entirely agree with not letting them see their families later, (especially since in legends Obi-Wan was allowed to visit his family, which implies Anakin couldn’t go free his mother specifically because he was already too attached), but the idea is sound. I do also understand that no one is forcing Jedi to stay in the order and they can leave for whatever reason at any time. But that isn’t exactly a free choice either. Leaving the order means leaving the only home you remember, the only people you know to make your own way in the galaxy, and staying with those people means you can never fully love them. It’s a difficult solution to a complicated question, and for the most part, it worked (not always, and not exactly as intended, but I’ll come back to that.) Children grew up in the order, were trained to control themselves and the force, and became Jedi who were impartial, patient, and balanced. But everything falls apart when you introduce someone who wasn’t raised in the temple.

In The Rising Force, 13 year old Obi-Wan had barely been off Coruscant in his life. He describes himself as sheltered and unaware of all the pain in the galaxy, and says it was done on purpose, so younglings wouldn’t have to face the dark side before they were ready for it. But Anakin had seen nothing but darkness, pain and injustice before he joined the order. He was severely traumatized, and while the temple might have had some ways of dealing with trauma and PTSD in adults, they had no experience in treating the same in a child, because their children were kept safe and protected. The idea of letting go of your pain and fear only works if you know you have a safe place to come back to, if you’ve spent the first decade or so of your life in the most protected place in the galaxy. Anakin spent the first decade of his life as a slave. He couldn’t let go of his fear, because fear was what kept him alive. Fear is not irrational if you are constantly in danger, it’s what protects you, keeps you aware of the limits you can push before you get punished. And that mindset doesn’t fade just because you’re out of that situation, especially if your only family, the closest person to you, is still facing that danger every day.

I’ve seen people use every excuse possible to explain why Anakin didn’t see his mother again to avoid blaming the council, including, and I shit you not, “He just didn’t have her comm number”. But to me that seems disingenuous, when we see in his first meeting with the council that they already consider him too attached. It's one of the main reasons they don’t want him to be trained, so it seems logical that they wouldn’t allow him to see her once he became a padawan. I also want to mention that what Yoda says, “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.” Is just… blatant catastrophizing. Right? Like we can all see that the escalation is not rational there at all. Maybe it could apply to something else, but not to a child who just left his mother for the first time in his life and went from a tiny dustball in the middle of nowhere to the most populated planet in the galaxy, and is now being tested by a bunch of old people with the power to decide his future. Obviously he’s afraid, and obviously he’s not dealing with it the way Jedi younglings do. That, in and of itself doesn't doom him to fall. Also what Yoda misses there is that suffering leads to fear. This is a closed loop, and one that has defined Anakin’s entire childhood.

Let’s come back to how the system doesn’t always work. The way I see it, most of the characters we see are attached. Obi-Wan is considered one of the greatest Jedi of his time. Windu describes him as “our most cunning and insightful Master—and our most tenacious”. And yet, he was not insightful enough to look past his love for Anakin, his attachment, and see how close to falling he was. Ahsoka was so attached to Anakin she refused to listen to Maul on Mandalore, refused to even consider the posibility he could fall. She was arguably the person with the best shot at preventing the empire forming at that point, and she loved anakin so much she doomed him and the entire galaxy. Aayla admitted to thinking of Quinlan as her father, and also, apparently in legends had a long relationship with Kit. Even Mace didn’t follow the code when he decided to kill Palpatine, which directly led to his death and the empire. He also indirectly caused the war to start. According to wookiepedia “Windu viewed Dooku as the shatterpoint of the entire Separatist movement, which meant striking Dooku down would theoretically end the imminent clone war before it even began. However, Windu's prior attachments to Dooku clouded his judgment.” I’m not even going to mention Kanan and Ezra, who are obviously family.

So basically everyone is attached and lying about it. How has no one thought that maybe this isn’t the healthiest way to live and tried to change the code? Well, I have a theory, and it’s Yoda. He was 900 years old when he died, and was on the council for the vast majority of his life. I can’t find when exactly he became grand master, but it’s safe to assume he held some degree of power over the entire order for most of a millennium. At the end of TPM he tells Obi-Wan “Confer on you the level of Jedi knight, the council does. But agree with your taking this boy as your padawan learner, I do not.” Then he reverses that decision by himself. So either he has the power to veto the council’s word, or who gets trained is entirely up to him. Either way, not great, considering his lifespan is so much longer than most Jedi, and therefore his approach to life is vastly different. Humans need love and closeness to live. However, while we don’t know much about Yoda’s species, it probably isn’t a social one. You could count all the characters of this species on two (human) hands, and Yoda lived in complete isolation for 20 years on Dagobah, and only went a little bit insane. They are naturally rare, and therefore probably lead solitary lives in nature. Moreover, Yoda outlived every master who trained him, and almost every padawan he trained himself, (there’s a great post about that here) so even if he wasn’t naturally predisposed to non-attachment, he would have had to learn it to deal with all the loss he had to live through over the years.

A lot of people think that Anakin fell because he had attachments, which is not true. He fell because of how his attachments played out and/or ended. The most obvious example being Palpatine, who used Anakin’s trust and friendship to groom him for over a decade and actively undermine Anakin’s trust towards anyone else, especially the order. (more on that here). Obi-Wan refused to take on the role of a father figure that Anakin tried to shove him into, so he turned to someone who did accept it. It’s not Anakin’s fault that it turned out to be the worst person alive, nor can we expect him to notice when he’s known Palpatine since he was a child. Another failure of jedi non-attachment, because a loving parent or guardian would not let their child be used as a bargaining chip when the most powerful politician in the galaxy blackmailed the order into allowing him to meet Anakin regularly, but a distant teacher and detached knight thinking of the greater good might. The other attachments Anakin had were taken from him (Shmi and Ahsoka, the last orchestrated by Palpatine who was fully ready to give her the death penalty to make Anakin more unstable), or he was forced to lie and hide them, compromising his vows as a Jedi (Padme) or refused to choose Anakin over the order/their principles (Obi-Wan, and again Ahsoka, and to some extent Padme, but he’d already fallen then). All these people had every right to make the choices they made, but it wasn’t the act of loving them that made Anakin turn to the dark side, it was how those attachments played out.

I think everyone agrees that Yoda is as detached as a Jedi should, if not can, be, and that didn’t prevent Dooku from falling. We see that explored in more detail with Barriss and Luminara. Luminara is detached and distant, she’s fond of Barriss, but their relationship is not familial in the slightest, and she repeatedly shows her willingness to put the greater good and the mission before Barriss’ safety and even life. And yet Barriss still falls. A complex combination of events and choices caused each of those characters to fall, not the simple presence or absence of attachment.

And lastly, just as attachment can make you unstable if your relationship with that person is unstable, it can also make you stronger. There is a reason Anakin and Obi-Wan were the face of the army. Not only did their obvious attachment (the strongest between two jedi we are shown) make them more relatable to the public, but they, when working as a team, are shown repeatedly to be more or less undefeatable. They spend half of aotc flinging themselves off great heights because they know the other will be there to catch them. They know from years of experience that they have backup and they know each other well enough (or force bond communicate) that they can trust the other will be where he needs to be to help/save them. Contrast that to how Windu and Palpatine fight in rots once the window breaks- very carefully, clearly holding back to keep themselves safe. Neither of them has backup until Anakin arrives, but until the last second they can't be sure which one he will choose. Anakin and Obi-Wan fight the same way on Mustafar, especially when balancing on that thin bridge. No acrobatics, swinging arms to keep balance, keeping their distance, being almost uncharacteristically careful compared to how they treated heights in aotc, in tcw, and on the invisible hand in rots, because they both know the other won't catch them if they fall this time.

#star wars meta #attachment #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #yoda #jedi order #mine

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marauders-venting · 4 years ago

Text

Worth The Wait (Part 2)

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: implied panic attack

words: 3116

a/n: i decided to write a second part because people asked and i was feeling nice. Also i didn’t want sirius to be sad cause that makes me sad :(

Remus’ head was spinning. He didn’t understand what had just happened. Sirius had tried to kiss him. Sirius had tried to kiss him. But it was his own reaction that concerned and confused Remus even more. Because when Sirius had tried to kiss him he had felt something. There had been a part of him that wanted to kiss Sirius back. Wanted it desperately. A part of him that wanted to let his lips meet Sirius’ and put his hands in Sirius’ hair, brush his jaw, touch his waist. That was the part of himself that frightened Remus. Alarms had gone off in his head telling him to turn away, not to listen to that part of him because god knows what road that would lead him down.

Fuck. How long had that part of him been there? Was it new? Was it something that had appeared just now? No, it can’t be, Remus thought. It felt like this part of him has been there for a while, in constant battle with the other part of him. A battle over Sirius. Over what he wants with Sirius, over what Sirius means to him. But if these thoughts had been there for a while, how was Remus only now becoming aware of them? And if they had been there for a while, what the fuck does this mean?

All these questions come flowing into Remus’ brain within a matter of seconds and they all feel unanswerable and Remus doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know what to do or what to think because his brain is being so so loud and there’s screaming and he can’t tell if it’s in his head and everything’s going to implode and—

BREATHE, screams something in his head. BREATHE. Remus lies down in the grass and a stab of pain in his chest from a lack of oxygen. He gasps for breath and opens his eyes although he doesn’t remember closing them. He feels disoriented. Everything feels fake.

Remus sits back up and he buries his head in his arms. If Sirius were here, he’d be sitting next to Remus, comforting him. He could practically hear Sirius asking, “what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” There are lots of things going through his brain right now. But mostly it’s just the word ‘FUCK’ exactly like that, in all-caps flashing in his mind a million times over.

That’s wrong actually, says a voice in his head. Not about the word ‘FUCK’ being repeated in his head over and over again but about what Sirius would be doing if he was here. If Sirius were here he’d probably be sitting or maybe standing awkwardly away from Remus, that look of hurt and heartbreak on his face. The look that broke Remus’ insides. It broke him more to know that he was the reason Sirius was hurt. He never wanted to hurt Sirius. He was supposed to help Sirius when was hurt. He wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting him. He’d do anything for Sirius. But this was something else. This was different. But I want this too, said that part of him. I want Sirius. Remus tries to push the thought out of his mind but he can’t. So now instead of a constant loop of ‘fuck’ he’s stuck in a constant loop of ‘I want Sirius’. Great. Fucking fantastic.

Remus tries to organise his thoughts. Okay, so let’s say for a moment, just for argument’s sake, that he does want Sirius. That he likes Sirius in the same way Sirius apparently likes him. What does that mean? Does that make him gay? Am I gay? he thinks. Maybe. It’s possible. Remus had never considered it before. He doesn’t think he’s gay. Not that he’s ever had a particularly memorable romantic or sexual experience with a girl. But he’s never had one with a boy either. He’s never wanted to. Until now. Or until whenever he started imagining the way that Sirius’ hands would feel on his hips because this couldn’t be the first time. Definitely not. Okay, so maybe I am a little gay, then, he thinks. Fuck, this is hard.

Remus doesn’t want to go back to the dorm now. He’s sure that Sirius doesn’t want to see him. But he can’t stay out here so he goes back anyway. When he gets back to the dorm James, Sirius and Peter are all asleep and Remus wonders how long he’s been outside. He checks the clock. It’s past midnight. He showers as quietly as possible and goes to bed but it’s hours before he finally falls asleep. Questions keep swirling through his head, keeping him awake. And in the middle of it all, his almost-kiss with Sirius. Every time Remus thinks about it he feels his pulse rise. He turns away from his wall and sees Sirius in the bed across from him. He’s fast asleep, one hand hanging out of his bed, his lips slightly parted. Remus takes in the curve of his lips, the edge of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed and his dark eyelashes visible against his pale cheek. Remus wonders why he can’t turn away and then he realises what he’s thinking about. He’s thinking about how much he’d like to kiss Sirius right now and he can’t believe he let the chance pass by. He can’t believe he rejected Sirius. He turned down the most attractive person in this whole goddamn castle. Why? Remus can’t think of any reason right now.

When Remus wakes up the next morning the dorm is empty. He almost forgets about everything that happened last night. Until he rolls over and sees Sirius’ empty bed. His first thought is that it was a dream. Maybe it was just a dream. But when he goes down to the Great Hall for breakfast and sees the way Sirius is pointedly avoiding his eye, he knows it was real. So instead of going to sit with Sirius, James and Peter, he goes to sit with Lily, Marlene and Dorcas.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down beside Lily. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” she says. “Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion and I was fine within an hour. How was doing the rounds alone? Boring right?”

“Yeah,” Remus nods. He feels his stomach twist. Remus has no reservations about lying but he hates lying to Lily. It’s pointless anyway; she can usually see right through him. “Really boring.”

Remus spends the rest of the day avoiding Sirius. James and Peter stuck with Sirius and Remus pretended it didn’t bother him. Classes the next day gave Remus more excuses not to talk to Sirius. He sat next to Lily in every class and she seemed pleasantly surprised. She asked Remus that night if anything had happened with his friends but Remus said he didn’t want to talk about it so she dropped it.

“If you change your mind, I’m here,” she had said.

“Thanks, Lily, really,” he replied. He appreciated her support but he didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Not yet anyway.

---------

“Remus.” It’s James. Remus turns to him.

“Yeah?” Remus says. Five days had passed since the incident with Sirius. Remus had barely exchanged a sentence with James, Sirius or Peter. He’s sure James and Peter must have noticed something was going on but he had been hoping that Sirius hadn’t mentioned it.

“Look, I know things might be weird with Sirius right now but that doesn’t mean you have to avoid me and Peter as well,” he says.

“Why would things be weird with Sirius?” Remus tries to say casually. He fails.

“Remus…” James starts but Remus realises before he says anything.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Remus says. “Of course, he did. Fucking tells you everything, doesn’t he? Well, what are you doing, talking to me then? Isn’t it considered betrayal to talk to the person who rejected your best friend? It’s like fraternising with the enemy.”

“Remus, what are you talking about? You’re not ‘the enemy’,” James says. “Not to me. Certainly not to Sirius.”

“Did you know?” Remus asks, ignoring what James said. Because how was he supposed to respond to that? “When he said he’d come with me that night, did you know he was going to do it?”

“I knew he was thinking about it,” James says. “He’d been thinking about it for ages.”

“And you didn’t tell him it was a bad idea?” Remus asked, arms crossed.

“Well, no,” James says. “I… I assumed you would…”

“Like him back?”

“Well… yeah,” James says, sounding rather sheepish and apologetic.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you think I liked him back?”

“I don’t know,” James sighs. “You guys would spend all your time together. You had all these inside jokes. You’d stay up for hours talking to each other. Loads of reasons.”

“But you do that too!” Remus says. “You and Sirius do all those things you just said too and it’s not…”

“Yeah but that’s different,” James says. “Sirius has always been like my brother. Have you ever seen him as a brother?”

“I… I might have,” Remus says, arms crossed.

“Did you?”

“No,” Remus sighs. “I knew it was different, I just didn’t know that ‘different’ meant… this.”

“Does that… Remus, what do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Remus answers hurriedly, his face heating.

“Remus,” James starts, “I’m going to ask you this one time and whatever you say I’ll believe you, okay? Do you like Sirius?”

“Of course, I like Sirius, idiot, he’s my best friend,” Remus replies.

“Come on, you know what I mean,” James says. Remus remains silent. “You wanna know why I thought you liked him? Because of the way you look at him. Like you’re constantly in complete awe of him. It’s the same way he looks at you.”

“Fine,” Remus says. He’s not looking at James. “I… I think I do. I had never considered it before… before this but I started thinking about it and… and I think maybe I do actually like him.”

“Remus, that’s okay,” James says, hugging him. “It’s okay not to know or not to recognise an emotion when you’re feeling it in the moment.” Remus feels himself relax a little. Something about being told that it’s okay, that what he’s feeling is okay, something about it being put into words is comforting to him even if he can’t explain why.

“You should talk to him,” James says gently. “And you know that whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. For both of you.”

“More for Sirius than for me,” Remus says before he can stop himself. He means it as a joke, kind of, but James takes him by both shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.

“Hey,” he says. “Absolutely not. Our friendship is just as important to me as my friendship with Sirius. Remus, I promise you no matter what happens, I will always be your best friend. You assume that Peter and I would choose Sirius over you. We wouldn’t. We kept trying to talk to you these last few days but you avoided us and shut us out. Don’t do that, Rem. We miss you. We want you in our lives just as much as Sirius. I promise you that. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Remus says. And he does. Somehow. He’s not quite sure how but he does. He’s silent for a moment but gives in eventually and says it. Says the thing that’s been worrying him since the moment Sirius’ lips brushed his own for that split second. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You can’t,” James says without hesitation. “You can’t because I know you, Remus, and I know you won’t let that happen. And Sirius won’t let it happen either.”

---------

Remus couldn’t sleep again. He couldn’t think about anything other than Sirius, lying two beds away from him. What the hell was happening to him? Sirius had been sleeping two beds away from him since they were eleven but now suddenly it was keeping him up at night? He didn’t understand himself. He rolled over.

“Sirius?” he whispered. Sirius turned around.

“Yeah?” he whispered back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… woke up,” Remus lied. “I don't know if I’ll be able to fall asleep now though.” He glances over to where James and Peter are still fast asleep, both snoring like logs. Sirius isn’t saying anything. “You wanna go downstairs?” Remus asked hopefully. He needs to talk to Sirius. If he figured out anything from a week of avoiding Sirius it was that he hated life without him. Unfortunately, Sirius had continued to avoid Remus even after Remus had resolved to stop. Remus could hardly blame him but he really wished Sirius wouldn’t. It made things harder.

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius nodded, getting up. Remus stands up as well, pulls a sweater on and quietly slips out the door after Sirius. They walked down the stairs in silence and sat down on the couches in the empty common room. The fire had nearly died out but it provided enough light for the two of them. Remus had, evidently, not thought this through. What the fuck was he supposed to say now?

“I can’t believe you put on a sweater when it’s nearly summer,” Sirius said, saving Remus the trouble.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Remus asked, trying to keep it casual. “I do it all the time.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “It’s weird.”

“Weirder than wearing a leather jacket every day of the year?”

“That’s called style.”

“Well, sweaters are my style.”

“Fine, if you say so.”

“What, would you rather I wore leather jackets?”

“You can wear whatever you like, Moony.” Silence. That was the most they’d spoken all week.

“What do you want to do?” Sirius asked. Remus shrugged. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss Sirius. Like, now. It was all he had been able to think about all week. But getting to the point where he’d be able to do that was what Remus seemed to be struggling with. “Why did you suggest we come downstairs, then?”

“Better than listening to James and Peter snore, isn’t it?” Remus said.

“I guess,” Sirius said. Remus hesitated. This felt like an opening. He was determined to take it.

“Sirius,” he started.

“Yeah?”

“You know… uhm the other night, when you came with me to do the rounds—”

“Remus, I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius said, his face falling. He was back away from Remus. “I get it, you don’t… you don’t like me like that—”

“No but that’s just it,” Remus said. He didn’t want Sirius to leave. Instinctively, he reached out a hand and took Sirius’. “I do.”

“What?” Sirius looked from Remus to their joined hands and back again.

“I do like you… like that,” Remus said, blushing.

“But when I…” Sirius started. “You said we should just be friends.”

“I… I was scared,” Remus admitted. “I had never thought about it before. And when you tried to… it made me think about what that would mean. About me and about our friendship. And I got scared. I’m sorry, Sirius, I’m so sorry if I hurt you. But I’ve been thinking about it since then. And… I think I may have actually liked you for a long time.”

“Remus…” Sirius started, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay that you don’t like me in that way. I love being your friend and if that’s what you want then I’m happy with that. You don’t have to do this.”

“Sirius, I’m not doing anything. I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”

“R–Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. Sirius’ lips were parted in surprise. Remus couldn’t stop staring at them. A sudden overwhelming feeling came over him and he had to refrain from brushing Sirius’ bottom lip with his thumb. But then he realised that he doesn’t have to refrain from it. Remus hesitated for a moment. He scooted closer to Sirius on the couch, one leg crossed in front of him and the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He reached out a hand and caressed Sirius’ cheek, his thumb brushing Sirius’ bottom lip. Sirius closed his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sirius said. It came out like a whisper, his eyes still closed. Remus leaned in and slowly closed the gap between his mouth and Sirius’. His heart was thrumming so loud in his ears, he felt like the sound was echoing in his brain. His hand was still cupping Sirius’ face. He wrapped it around Sirius’ neck, kissing him harder. And as Sirius’ hands find Remus’ waist, pulling him closer, as Remus becomes acutely aware of the fact that his leg is pressed against Sirius’ thigh, Remus wonders how the fuck it took him so long to realise that this was what he’s been wanting the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Remus said when they broke apart.

“What?” Sirius asked, looking at him incredulously.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t figure this out sooner,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius said. “You could’ve taken another year and I wouldn’t care. You’re worth the wait.”

“Still,” Remus said. “I would’ve liked more time to do this.” And he kisses Sirius again. Slowly first and then more passionately, pulling Sirius towards him like he wants every inch of him and more. And Sirius lets him have it. Yep, Remus thought, I’m definitely gay. To some degree, at least. He knew there was a whole spectrum of sexualities but he’d never really bothered to think about it much until now. But figuring out his sexuality was something that Remus wasn’t particularly fussed about at this moment in time. Right now, he just wanted to stay here in Sirius’ arms, curled up on a couch, watching the fire die out, pressing tiny kisses to Sirius’ lips, the tip of his nose, the curve of his jaw.

He thinks about what Sirius said and smiles. You’re worth the wait.

---------

Sirius meant what he had said. He would’ve waited for Remus forever if he’d had to. He’d have waited until the concept of time ceased to exist. But he didn’t have to. Because Remus was his now. And all it took was one look into Remus’ amber eyes, glowing in the dying embers of the fire, for Sirius to know that this was real: he was falling in love with Remus Lupin. And he couldn’t be happier about it.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #james potter #james potter fluff #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders oneshot

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hannie-dul-set · 5 years ago

Text

araw-araw [na jaemin]

(EVERY DAY)

part of “the puhon playlist” collection

SUMMARY | mahiwaga— someone or something that you’ll choose every single day no matter the circmstance. and for you, that was na jaemin. even if time decides to set you apart PAIRING | na jaemin x female! reader GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, college! au, romance, slow-ish burn, fluff, humor, tiny angst, biology major jaemin and art major mc HEHE WARNINGS | excessive swearing, insecurities, some sex jokes LMAO, i project a lot in this i’m sorry JSFJG WORD COUNT | 14.5k TAGLIST | @prettyjaems @lcvemark @shra-vasti @danishmiilk @probablygonnahurtsomebody @jccv @rebel-lious-alien @dalkomhanchocolateicecream @kthpurplesyou @fullsuhnshine @dejvns @nctzun @sweetjaemss @sehunniepot @wownajaemin @emoshishi @holywaterbetch @ukiyoneo @injunified @huangxx @jaehyunnie3 @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet @kpopscape

a/n: HERE IT IS.... MY PRIDE AND JOY JHSFJSD gahh okay i’m gonna keep my rambling to a minimum but this fic is very close and very dear to my heart and if it isn’t obvious that i’m in love with jaemin then this fic will make it obvious LMAO

also do yourself a favor and listen to ben&ben’s araw-araw on loop while reading this!! adds to the ~vibe~ hehe

Five-thirty-seven in the morning, grey clouds stretching throughout the sky as you peeked outside the window, falling right above oceans and buildings and people that you couldn’t even see. You sighed as you sank deeper into your chair, closing your eyes and adjusting your earbuds to clear your thoughts that were brought about by your sudden move.

You felt a nudge from beside you, coming from your mother (your dad was long knocked out since earlier), and so you politely pulled the earbuds away. “Excited to come back to Korea?” she asked. You simply responded with a smile and hum.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like the idea of returning— it was the prospect that it did not even feel like you were returning in the first place. Indifference was what you felt. After moving to Los Angeles when you were twelve because of your father’s job, you had to say goodbye to all your friends living in your hometown, all the traditions and customs that you were used to, and all the memories that you have built up in order to get used to a new environment. Seven years later when you thought you were just about to fit in with the west, your father comes out with the news of going back to Seoul again.

So it was difficult to manage a full smile.

You had a thought as you looked down through the window, recognizing a few of the landmarks that stood out: how strange it was to have somewhere that used to be home feel so foreign.

Just as you were about to put in your earbuds back in, your mother suddenly brightened, looking at you with a large smile on her face, eliciting your curious gaze.

“Oh! Do you still remember your old friend Jaemin?”

A smile tugged at your lips. How could you forget him?

Na Jaemin. Nana. Jaems. Your childhood best friend for six years until you were forcibly shipped all the way to LA. You still remembered how hesitant you were to tell him that you were moving because you didn’t want him to cry— only to have you crying and refusing to let go of him until your parent's pried you off of him at the airport. He assured you while wiping away your tears that you’d still get to see him one day.

Maybe that day would actually be one of these days.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the drawstrings of your jacket. “Why? I haven’t been in contact with him for years now.”

“His mom and I talked the other day and I told her that we’re moving back! And just earlier, she told me that Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport so we won’t have to take a cab. Isn’t that great? You’d get to be reunited with your old friend again.”

“Ah,” you paused for a moment, in thought, just before pressing your lips together into a tight smile. “Yeah, it would be nice to see him again.”

That was what you said, but even until you left the plane, lugging your baggage across the cold floors of the airport with your music at full volume to drown out the noise, you were actually rather conflicted about meeting him again. A lot could happen within seven years, and therefore there was no assurance that things would still be the same. You weren’t sure if he’d still be the same sweet boy that was determined to fight the park swings after you fell and cried, if he’d still be the same kid that stopped talking to you for three days because you tricked him into eating a strawberry flavored lollipop. Maybe he’d still be, maybe he wouldn’t, but it was exactly that uncertainty that made you feel uneasy.

Still, there was still a hint of excitement, a string that tugged your heart away from all the uneasiness, just enough to bring a smile to your face at the thought of seeing him again.

“Y/N, let’s go?”

Your father called out to you and you didn’t even realize that you have actually stopped walking amidst your musings.

“Oh, yeah I—” you stumbled in between the ever moving airport crowd, looking down to see your shoelace had become undone, and so you let go of your suitcase. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec!”

You ducked down, right beside the large, grey case to fix it, lips pursed in concentration. People passed by without minding you too much, but at one instance, just as you had finished retying your shoelace, your suitcase moved away from you with a shadow looming from above. Panic struck, and so you jolted up, instincts forcing your hand to move, quickly grabbing the handle. There was another hand resting on it. Your eyes moved up to meet with the culprit's.

Weirdly enough, he was just as shocked as you are.

Even weirder— he looked way, way too attractive to be a thief. Or maybe that was the modus these days? Still, you harshly dragged back the suitcase, ripping it away from his grasp with a glare. “What the fuck—”

At that moment, you recalled your mother’s words. Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport. This guy looked a little too much like your old friend from your old neighborhood.

It felt like you were looking into the exact same large, dark eyes that used to be always accompanied by a pretty smile, now matched by a mouth hanging slightly agape from surprise. He even had the same dark hair that always messily fell over his eyes. There was a moment of pause in between the rush of bodies, the both of you in a frozen trance staring at each other until you had finally realized that motherfucker— this was Na Jaemin.

When did he get so hot?

“I—”

He flashed you a smile. The same damned smile. It brought you to the conclusion that seven years really didn’t do anything except make him far too attractive for his own good. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious about your own appearance as you gawked at him. God really liked to play favorites, huh?

You could see him say something, his lips moving just enough to represent a few words, but it was muffled thanks to the blaring music. Your confusion reflected clearly on your face contorting, and Jaemin only shook his head and laughed before reaching his hands to your face, bringing you to a momentary halt of haywire because what the actual fuck was he doing.

“You shouldn’t listen to music too loudly in public,” he said, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and gingerly placing them into your open palms with a smile. Holy fuck, his voice got so deep. “I’ve been calling out to you since earlier, but you couldn’t hear. Let’s go, your parents are waiting.”

Before you could even try to recollect yourself from the sudden crashing of events, Jaemin took your suitcase in your stead, leading you to his car.

If you still weren’t sure whether or not this was Na Jaemin from your past, you were now because although a bit watered down, he was just as excessively weird and sweet as he was ages ago. You found yourself feeling stupid for even doubting it in the first place. Of course, he was still the same; he even chirps your name in the same way as he always did before.

“There we go,” with a huff, the trunk came to a close. He threw your suitcase in there after seeing your mini struggle episode with far too little effort for your peace of mind. “You should just ask me next time. Okay, Y/N?”

“Thanks,” you gave him a small nod, flustered when he pinched your left cheek while making a questionable noise, and he opened the car door for you to enter.

Maybe it was you that had changed.

You were fairly quiet throughout the car ride while your parents and Jaemin decided to catch up after everything, only listening and giving your reactions whenever needed. You weren’t a morning person and your jetlag wasn’t doing you of any help either.

“You’re in your third year, right Jaemin?” your father asked, sitting at the front seat as your mother and you sat behind.

“Yep, yep,” he happily replied.

“Time really does fly fast, doesn’t it?” your mother joined in. “What uni do you go to, Jaemin?”

“Ah,” he sounded, eyes still directed on the road. “NCT U. It’s the closest at home, and I didn’t really wanna move out.”

“Oh, what a coincidence! Y/N isn’t that where you’re planning on going, too?”

“Really?” you could see Jaemin’s eyes brighten from the mirrors. “Y/N, do you want me to help you with your requirements? Have you enrolled already? I can give you a tour if you want!”

He’s really the same. You thought, smiling. “It’s fine, Jaemin. I already enrolled and took care of everything online.”

“But I should still tour you, though!” he retorted, the pout and whine evident in his voice. “The campus is really big so you might get lost. Ah, but aren’t universities in the States much bigger? I can also introduce you to some of my friends if you like.”

Jaemin went on for a while, telling your parents not to worry and promising that he’d take care of you throughout your college life here in Korea despite your protests that you could very much take care of your own self. Eventually, your mother asked about his major, and his animated expressions dimmed down into a slight bashfulness after answering that he was taking biology. You joined the conversation upon hearing that. “You said back then that you wanted to be a surgeon, right?”

With a shy smile, he nodded, and at that moment you felt a rush of awe for your childhood friend. Your parents seemed to have reacted the same way seeing as he was growing a little more embarrassed. It was amazing how he held on to the same dream he held since he was a kid— the amount of passion and dedication he must have for it. You on the other hand—

“What about you, Y/N?”

You jumped at the sudden subject switch. “Oh, I’m—” a pause in your statement. “I’m… taking an arts course.”

“Wow! As expected, Y/N is as cool as always,” he doted, which caused you to flush.

“It’s— it’s not really that amazing, it’s just the only thing I’m kinda good at so—”

“No, no, no. Y/N, you shouldn’t say that,” he scolded, clicking his tongue while his hands remained on the wheel. Your mother was beside you yet he was the one doing the mom nagging. “Who is that again? Bob Ross? Leonardo DiCaprio? You’re gonna be much much much better than them someday, I just know it! I have something called Nana vision, you know.”

You stifled a quiet laugh, not having the heart to correct him that it was not DiCaprio. “Does your Nana vision also see that we’re already almost at the complex?”

“Oh!”

At your words, Jaemin’s attention was now a hundred percent back on driving, profusely apologizing for getting distracted. You could see his ears slightly reddening from your seat which lasted until the end of the drive. Jaemin helped your family carry everything to your apartment on the eighth floor, even volunteering to help you unpack. Your mother firmly declined, however, insisting him to take a rest after all his help, but she did invite him and his parents over for dinner tomorrow. A little reunion of sorts.

“Six in the evening, right?”

“Yes. You should head back home now, Jaemin. Thank you for everything.”

He shot a bright smile before readying to march outside. “We’ll be here by five!”

She laughed at him, shaking her head, and proceeded to look for you inside the mess of the living room. You were about to disappear inside your room, luggage in hand to unpack, but she quickly dragged you back by the ear. “Go see him out the door!” she whisper-yelled, and so you did. Fortunately, he was stopped by your father before he got to leave, so you took this opportunity to smoothly stride beside him as he slipped past the door when he said goodbye. The door clicked to a close. He raised a brow at you.

“Mother’s orders,” you answered.

“So you wouldn’t have gone out if she didn’t tell you to?” he huffed, pouting. “And I was really happy to see you, too. I think I might have to take that back.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing, and eventually you made it to the end of the hallway. “Too late. You can’t take back your happiness. It’s good to see you again, Jaemin.”

The both of you stopped right in front of the elevator, and you waited for him to depart, but he didn’t. He had his arms crossed over his chest, accompanied by an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite tell if it was hurt, disappointment, or offense. Probably all three. Definitely all three.

“What? are you putting up a wall between us? Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?” he groused, nose scrunching. “What happened to Jaems? Nana? Y/N, you’re seriously hurting me over here.”

Laughing at the way he was sticking his frown right into your face to prove his point, you playfully shoved him off, pushing him into the elevator after all of his complaints even though he was the one moving his feet, anyway. You missed him, that much you could conclude, therefore you decided to stop his whining just before the elevator doors came to a close.

“See you tomorrow, Nana.”

You grinned, not missing the way his eyes lit up in between the small gap. You really did miss him, and you were lucky enough to have him as a small memory to remind you that this place was indeed home.

Maybe it wasn’t just Jaemin that you had missed. The entire family was just a smack in the face of early childhood nostalgia that you nearly cried (thank god you didn’t) when Mrs. Na buried you into a bone crushing hug the moment she saw you when you opened the door. You were really happy to be back— even when you weren’t exactly sure before.

“Mom, I think you’re suffocating, Y/N,” Jaemin pointed out as he left his shoes in front of your doorstep, walking inside with his father following behind him.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t believe that this is you!” she coddled, and somewhere in between Jaemin found himself beside you. “I think I have pictures of you two when you were younger, hold on—”

Mrs. Na was pushed forward by her husband as she dug through her phone for a decade old Facebook posts of you and Jaemin (you hoped she wouldn’t remember you had an entire album). The older man ruffled your hair as he passed by with a fond smile, disappearing into the dining table where your parents were preparing and leaving you and Jaemin behind.

He was looking at you. Questionably so.

“What?”

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “I didn’t get to hug you yesterday.”

Oh my god, you shook your head, grabbing the sleeve of his mint jacket and leading him to where your parents were to help. “You’ll have more opportunities, you loser. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Jaemin was speechless for a moment as he let you drag him along, but a happy smile broke through and he matched your steps halfway.

“Yeah,” he agreed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Dinner followed the usual sequence of events: reminiscing about the past, asking both parties what they have been up to, and of course talks about the future. During the meal, Jaemin asked when your classes were starting (next week), and he proposed his promised tour to be held this Tuesday— two days from now— because he didn’t have a lot of classes that day. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, neither did your parents, so you ended up agreeing.

Unfortunately for you, your mother pulled out the ancient photo album of the past right after dinner, and the stark contrast between yours and Jaemin’s reactions were also album worthy. By the end of it, you were sure that smoke was emitting from your ears because your good friend had an affinity with screaming over how cute you were, even going as far as stealing one of your baby pictures right before they decided to make their leave.

“Ah, ah,” he pulled the photo away the moment he sensed your attempt of theft. You two were standing right in front of the open door, his parents already having left ahead. “I’m keeping this. You look so cute here.”

“How am I so sure you won’t blackmail me with that!”

An offended gasp. “I would never,” he took out his phone, inserting your picture inside his colored phone case with you watching his every move. “It’s for me to see only, so you don’t need to worry.”

You looked at him. Then to the phone that he was holding up with a confident smile. You let out a sigh.

“Fine,” you begrudgingly relented, and he waddled over to you with a big smile on his face to envelop you into a hug. He smells nice, you thought, reciprocating the embrace. Wait, isn’t this my perfume? That would explain what he was doing inside your room earlier. You could only sigh inwardly let him keep on hugging you. He was whining about it earlier, after all.

It lasted long, maybe a bit too long because his dad came back to fetch him.

“Mhm, you can trust me with anything, Y/N,” Jaemin mumbled before finally pulling away, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he did. “Anyway, before I go— should we exchange phone numbers?”

Tuesday came by, and you were met with two realizations. Both of which made you feel very very small in comparison.

One, NCT U was really freaking big.

Two, Na Jaemin was really freaking popular.

Granted, he had only shown you around the STEM department, but with every turn that you took and every hallway that you passed through, there was least one person that stopped by to say hi to him. Even some of the teachers were close with him. You should have expected it considering he was literally nice, smart, handsome, and everything you could ever ask for, but it still made him feel just a tiny bit out of reach.

“Are you feeling tired?” he asked, breaking away from a conversation with a senior. He put a hand over your shoulder with concern that reflected in his eyes. “We can take a break around the benches if you want.”

“Yeah, sure. After you—”

“I’ll talk to you later, hyung. See you around.”

Jaemin waved off his older friend, Yuta, you had overheard, and proceeded to lead you to the aforementioned area on the ground floor before stopping by a vending machine to get some drinks. You pressed your lips together, feet shuffling as you waited behind him, and then you finally decided to speak. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, slotting in a few coins into the machine.

“You— you with your friend,” you fumbled, trying your best to speak your mind, but how were you supposed to say ‘cut your conversation short with your friend because of me’ without seeming like a total headass? You could have waited until they were finished.

With a soft smile, he passed a canned, carbonated drink into your hands— lemon, you read— and took one for himself. He didn’t answer your incomprehensible question and decided to walk across the field leading to a bench area, but you were sure he got what you were trying to say. He simply chose not to answer. Or did he? Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Annoyed, you decided to gulp down the drink in one go to distract yourself, even when the bubbles stung your throat. Jaemin stared at you in horror.

“Were you that thirsty? You should have told—”

“Na Jaemin!”

In sync, your heads snapped towards the direction of the ear-ripping screech, which was quite coincidentally where you two were headed. There were two boys sitting on a bench, one more on the table with a guitar. You assumed that it was one of them that screamed out your friend’s name— probably the one that was making eye contact with him before dramatically turning away with a butchered sob.

“Na Jaemin! Traitor of the brotherhood! I remember when he would still come running the moment I call his name but now— forgotten for dust! He doesn’t care about us anymore, Renjun. He even has a new—”

“What are you on about this time, Haechan?”

Haechan’s evidently fake sobbing stopped, pushing away the boy that he had just been crying into moments prior. “Oh you’re here,” he deadpanned.

It was almost horrific how three pairs of eyes immediately zeroed in on you as you meekly hid behind Jaemin, causing the hairs at the back of your neck to stand as if you were about to die in a fucking horror movie. You could tell from that alone that despite having many friends, these guys were probably his closest— whether it was better or worse, you had no idea. All of a sudden you were dawned with the intimidating task of trying to get them to like you, which was already way too out of reach because the one with the guitar was practically ripping you to shreds with his eyes alone.

“Please stop trying to scare, Y/N. Jeno, you might actually make her cry, stop that.”

“Whoops,” Jeno stopped his death staring. “Hyuck initiated it.”

“Actually it was Renjun, but whatever,” before Renjun could even bite back after being falsely accused, Haechan had already blocked him off and had directed his attention towards you, legs crossed and a critical gaze. “Fuck formalities. Y/N, right? Who are you and why are you trying to steal—”

“Alright, no more scare tactics. Y/N, there are my friends, Jeno, Haechan— or Donghyuck, whichever you prefer, he doesn’t mind— and Renjun. They’re just trying to mess with you, don’t worry. Friends, this Y/N L/N, my childhood friend for like four, five years before she left Korea and moved to LA.”

The term childhood friend lit a spark within the three boys, but before they could do or say anything dangerous that would jeopardize your relationship, Jaemin the ever popular boy was called out by a group of girls. He excused himself to leave for a moment, but not before apologizing to you a million times over (“If you’re really sorry,” Renjun chided before he ran off. “Treat us and Miss Y/N to Kun’s, yeah?”). He agreed without even hearing him properly, and now you were left with his three friends that felt more like three sharks that circled around you. They were fucking out for blood.

“So,” the moment Jaemin disappeared from the parameter, Haechan pulled you to the bench in between him and Renjun with a devilish grin. “Childhood friend, huh?”

Your eyes snapped over to Renjun who was on your right to ask for a way out of this, but the guy was busy filming the entire thing on his phone. Why did Jaemin leave you behind? You had no chance of escaping. Haechan locked you down by swinging his arm around your neck just as you were about to stand. He signalled at his friend who was sitting on the table. “Jeno, drop the beat.”

There was a moment of miscommunication in between because instead of dropping the beat like Haechan asked, Jeno started strumming a sickeningly sweet tune on his guitar. Or maybe that was what he intended. Either way, Haechan was flexible enough to go along with it.

“You know what they say about childhood friends,” another strum. Haechan sang. Was this a fucking oration? “You either end up forgetting each other, hating each other, or you end up toge—”

“That is not—”

“Hush!” he silenced. Renjun was losing it at the side. So was Jeno, because the guitar tune was long replaced by fits of strangled laughter. “It is, clueless Y/N. It is. How many childhood friends have you met that stayed as childhood friends? None, I assume. I’m never wrong, you see.”

“Weren’t you and Mark childhood friends, too—”

“Shut the fuck up, Huang. This isn’t about me. Y/N, listen.”

Grabbing your shoulders, Haechan pulled you away from Renjun, the sudden movement nearly giving you a whiplash.

“From my expert calculations, you and Jaemin are undeniably going down route three, but the both of you are moving at an agonizingly slow pace, correct?” you stared at him, wide eyed, and he was staring right back. “Correct! Now, in order to speed things up a bit, all you have to do is follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your Childhood Friend Into—”

“Isn’t this the same guide that ruined your—”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

The two ended up quarrelling and you ended up being forgotten. You weren’t sure whether to be thankful or be offended. Jeno shot you a look of remorse on behalf of his friends, bringing you to the conclusion that this must have been a normal occurrence. Your eyes shot towards the sky, clouds covering the sun just enough so you wouldn’t be blinded, ears picking up the argument occuring that went back and forth on both of your sides. They’re a lively bunch, you breathed out, a subtle smile on your face.

Eventually Jaemin showed his face again, jogging over to your group and you greeted him with a beaming grin. “You guys seem to be getting along,” he said the moment he stopped before you.

“Oh, Romeo returns,” Renjun decided to stop picking a fight with Haechan. “Where’d you get dragged off to this time?”

There was silence, all four sets of eyes heavily sparked with curiosity as you waited for Jaemin’s response, but the boy was rather hesitant. “Well—” he fumbled, a faint baby pink blush powdering his cheeks. Sheepish, he continued. “Someone confessed to me.”

The first person that reacted was Jeno, who released a loud snort and scooted a little more forward. “Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” Jaemin indignantly refuted as he continued to be teased by the other two boys, the remaining uncharacteristically not joining in. At that very moment you could feel Haechan looking at you, a gaze that you couldn’t quite put a finger on but it was enough to shoot him a glare back.

“Who was it? Is she pretty?” you chose to ignore the annoying male beside you and decide to focus all of your interest and attention on Jaemin instead.

“Jiah,” he mindlessly answered, pushing Haechan to the side so he could sit next to you. “From nursing? I think?”

“Dude,” you turned your head to Renjun. “Kang Jiah? Holy shit, that’s crazy.”

Noticing the lost look in your eyes, Renjun proceeded to explain that not only was the alluded Kang Jiah arguably the prettiest in her department, she was at the top of her class too. You didn’t understand which part about that was crazy because for you, that was exactly the kind of person that Jaemin was destined to end up with. You wouldn’t be surprised if they do become a thing— well, there was only one way to find the answer to that.

“Well, what did you say? You said yes right?” you asked him, looking forward to his answer.

“Oh,” he shrugged. “I turned her down.”

What?

“Of course,” Renjun scoffed, shaking head with his arms crossed. “Only you would turn someone like Jiah down. At this rate you’ll end up dying an old hermit.”

“You have a crush on her or something?”

“Pff— no? I just think she’s pretty,”

“You’re not fooling anyone, dumbass. Come over here, I’m gonna squeeze it out of you—”

While the two quarrelled again in the middle of the field with Jeno being the one filming this time, you remained frozen in your seat, somewhat surprised. Huh, you blinked, wanting to ask him why he turned her down but frankly it was none of your business. You turned your head to face him. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to turn into such a heartbreaker, Jaems.”

He clicked his tongue, face scrunched into a bitter look of disapproval as reached out to mess up your hair. “Stop thinking weird thoughts,” he scolded. “Instead, why don’t I finally take you to the art building?”

Your eyes immediately lit up after the mention, and he stifled a laugh at your reaction, patting your head once more before sneaking off without the other three’s knowledge.

Jaemin’s tour of the whole campus actually deemed to be pretty useful because after three whole weeks of going to NCT U, you’d only gotten lost seven times— pretty remarkable if you do say so yourself. Within those three weeks, you had actually expected that your old childhood friend would leave you off on your own once you got used to everything, but no. He tried his best to meet you in between classes even though your buildings were nowhere near each other, and the times when he couldn’t, he’d never failed to call or text you. “I promised your parents!” he reasoned, but you weren’t sure if that promise included asking you if you’ve eaten breakfast every morning.

“Breakfast?”

You repeated into the phone as you and your recently made friend Soorim walked to your Visual Studies class. You’d met her during your first week and the both of you immediately hit off. It was nice to have someone else other than Jaemin and his friends, but of course you appreciated their company, too.

“I, uh, actually haven’t eaten— no wait! Before you nag me, I have a valid excuse, okay!” Soorim gave you a sidelong glance, curious and suspicious over your loud phone call so she tried to lean her ear closer to the device but you quickly evaded without even looking at her. “Listen, I was in a hurry to school! I actually planned on grabbing a bite on the way but I… forgot my wallet because again, I was in a hurry and— no, shut up, you don’t have the right to scold me for this, too! You literally left your report at home yesterday and I had to walk all the way back to save your butt so you’re no better, Mr. Na.”

Without even realizing, you were already in front of the doors to your classroom, and so you hurried a goodbye to Jaemin just before you and Soorim took your seats at the near back.

“Alright, I’m in the classroom now. See you later. Yes, I’ll eat after, yes, I promise to double check my wallet from now on. Bye.”

The moment you settled on your seat, setting your phone and backpack aside, Soorim swiveled her chair to face you, legs crossed, hands resting with poise on her thigh, and she batted her eyelashes expectantly. You ignored her, twisting open your water bottle because it was the only thing you had that could somewhat silence your crying stomach.

“So,” she started anyway. The bottle opening was hovering over your lips. You narrowed your eyes at her. What the fuck was she doing. “When are you introducing me to your boyfriend?”

You choked while drinking.

“Boy— what,” with a grimace, you ripped away the bottle from your face, slamming it down on the table. You looked at your friend in disgust. “If I had one I wouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

Soorim rolled her eyes, sneering at you. She held up her hand to the side of her face, all fingers closed except for her pinky and her thumb, shaking it a little. You sighed.

“He’s a friend.”

“The same friend that kept on calling you during our night out because he was worried?”

“Yes, well,” your sweat dropped. “He’s just like that, you know?”

“Sure,” she scrunched her nose, haphazardly throwing her giant notebook on the table. There was a brief moment of quiet that overtook because Soorim decided to stop egging on you as you waited for your professor, but that quiet only lasted for a while. She nudged you, and you looked up from your desk. “Oh, look who's coming.”

Huang Renjun sauntered in with an expression not fitting for a “good morning” greeting, so you chose to remain silent and simply stare at him in judgment as he settled right before you and Soorim, plastic bag in hand and binder in the other. What shat in his coffee this early in the morning?

“This is all your fault,” with a grunt, he dropped the bag filled with all sorts of food and snacks right in front of you, immediately pulling out a chair and sitting his ass onto it after. “My plans of turning up late are ruined because of you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, picking out a small container of strawberry milk from the bunch. How was this your fault? Furthermore, what exactly was all of this?

“Ooh, you making moves on Y/N, Huang?” Soorim, on the other hand, was digging into the rest of the goods, stealing a bun filled with red bean paste with a happy smile.

“Ew, as if.”

Renjun fake gagged, earning a look of offense from you which he completely ignored and disregarded. He took a box of pepero from the pile, shooting you a smug look before adding.

“It’s from Nana.”

(“You’re at school already? It’s very early. You’ve eaten breakfast, right?”

At a convenience store nearby the school, Jaemin and Renjun decided to eat their first meal there. Though, it appeared that the latter was the only one doing all the eating because his friend seemed to be far too preoccupied with his conversation on the phone to even notice that he took some of his sushi right in front of his face. Renjun silently chewed as he watched the colors on his friend’s face change at each sentence.

“Aish, it’s the most important meal of the day for a reason. How many times do I have to tell you—”

Another piece of sushi stolen. He wondered how far he could get away with it.

“Y/N, I—”

Jaemin let out a long sigh, causing Renjun to drop the food back onto the plate, retracting his chopsticks back to his own food— a bowl of ramen noodles that he had still yet to finish. He discreetly slurped it down as if he hadn’t been stealing since earlier. He was sure that Jaemin noticed though, but knowing his friend, he probably just let him. Renjun noticed the small pout on Jaemin, eliciting his curiosity.

“Okay,” he’s whining, Renjun concluded. “See you later.”

The moment Jaemin shut off his phone, Renjun expected him to say something, to air out why the fuck he was being all that this early in the morning, maybe even tell him what the call was about like a friend would, but no. Instead, Jaemin promptly stood up from his seat, disappeared into the limited selection of isles in the store, basket in hand, and started throwing a mountain full of food with a scrunched out, concentrated expression. Renjun had his mouth hanging open, brows knitted together, and wondering what in the ever loving fuck was going on with his friend as he stared at him pay for everything at the counter.

He sat back, eyeing Jaemin as he returned in front of him, who placed the full bag on top of the table as he took a seat.

“The hell?” a particular carton caught Renjun’s eye, and he immediately fished for it in primal disbelief. “Strawberry milk? You literally hate strawberries and milk separately yet you’re buying them combined? Are you sick?”

Jaemin did not answer. In fact, he dismissed the question completely with a smile, deciding to ask one of his own.

“It’s almost time for your first class, right? Visual Studies?”

At that point it hit him— the call, the food, the stupid behavior of his friend. It was completely obvious.

“Oh,” Renjun dropped the drink back onto the table. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking whipped.”)

“Shut up.”

After hearing Renjun’s story, you couldn’t look at all the multicolored snacks laid in front of you without heating up a million degrees anymore. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re just messing with me, shut up.”

Renjun scoffed. “Why would I even make up something so stupid? C’mon, Y/N. You know I’m way better than that.”

You couldn’t argue that this wasn’t something Jaemin would do. No, because this was exactly something sickly sweet Jaemin would do and your sad attempt of denial was simply because your heart might actually run away if you admit it to yourself. And as if to give you more assurance or to fluster you even further, your phone vibrated, causing you to jump in your seat. Before either of the two’s nosiness could take a peek, you quickly snatched your phone, leaning your chair all the way back to read the message.

[<nana3: never skip breakfast okok?!? u don’t have your wallet right? wait for me in front of the bio building later. let’s eat lunch together 🥰💚]

Dear lord Jesus, have mercy on your soul. Renjun took your squeak as a sign of victory.

“Wait a minute,” Soorim looked at you wide in a sudden moment of epiphany. “Nana as in Na Jaemin? The fucking Na Jaemin? Is he the friend you’ve been mentioning? The guy you were calling and bought all this? Holy fuck, Y/N—!”

Your body moved before you could think and you thanked god that your professor wasn’t here yet because you would have caught the entire class’ attention when you leaped forward to slap your hands over Soorim’s mouth.

Renjun’s excessive giggling brought you back to reality, pulling your hands off of her with a gasp and an apology. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, it felt like you were about to say something stupid!”

She gave a look, half done and half amazed at your willpower. You’d never been this fired up for anything. “Is it stupid to say that one of the hottest guys on campus is literally—”

“Stupid!” another slap on her mouth. Renjun was about to fall off his chair laughing. “You were going to say something stupid. Please don’t even think about finishing that.”

Lucky for you, your professor had finally come in. Unlucky for you, Soorim shot you the signature dirty stare which meant that you wouldn’t be let off that easily. How fun.

Class went on quiet and boring as usual— you’d never been one for technicalities, preferring heading straight into the creative process with nothing but inspiration coursing through your veins, so your professor’s voice was nothing but white noise running in the background as you busied yourself with your thoughts. Your eyes flickered to the floor, cheek resting on your palm, and you gazed down to the plastic back beside your backpack. Twirling your pencil between your fingers, you pulled out a scrap piece of paper, every move that you made triggered by nothing except the abstract flow of your mind.

There was only one person you were thinking of. The same person living inside your head the moment you stepped foot back into Korea, the same person that made you feel as if you were someone special out of all the eight billion people in the world, the same person that bought you three persons worth of food because he didn’t want you skipping breakfast, the same person that felt more like a dream than anything.

Mindlessly, you started sketching the face of your childhood friend, filling in all the details of his face that you could see whenever you closed your eyes, up until the bell rang that signalled the end of the class.

“Y/N! Your father and I are leaving, now!”

“There’s extra money on top of the fridge if you want to eat out.”

Saturday evening. Your parents decided to go out on a well-deserved date that night, leaving you alone inside your apartment. You saw them out the door, locking it up once they left, and as you pressed your back against the white washed wooden door, your eyes darted over to the clock hanging on your living room wall. Six-twenty-three. There were still a few hours until closing.

An art exhibition was to be held on the same evening, and this was the last day that the actual artist was going to be there. Free and you got to meet world renowned artist Ten Lee? You’d be insane not to go. Though, as you made your way into your room to change out of your raggedy old sweatpants and Jaemin’s (stolen) mint hoodie, you’d come to a realization that maybe the venue was too far for you to just walk. Your parents were using the car and it wasn’t like you could drive anyway. You could commute, but there was a better idea in your system.

Opening your phone, a smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pressed the contact number that seemed to have never left your recents.

[you: nana! are you free rn? there’s an art exhibition out of town! i need a ride :p and you need some time off your studies too bcs i noticed youve been more tired than usual so good idea i think yes hehe]

As usual, he took no more than a minute to reply. But after lighting up when you saw his name flash on your screen, you bit down your bottom lip to prevent a frown from forming.

[<nana3: TT i’m attending a seminar for an org rn y/nie huhu i don’t know what time it’s ending so i’m not sure if i can make it 😫😭]

[you: it’s okay!! jhfdj sorry for disturbing u!! please listen well to the speaker hehe and tell me how it went]

[<nana3: i’m so sorry]

It was difficult to pinpoint how you exactly felt.

You chewed the inside of your mouth, staring at the phone screen. He shouldn’t be apologizing.

After shutting your closet door down to a close, you fell face down onto your bed, your phone thrown over to the side. Yes, you were disappointed, but it wasn’t what weighed you down; the actual reason feeling like a disgusting, throbbing feeling writhing underneath your skin after being suppressed for awhile now. It never left your system the moment you'd arrived, the moment he showed you what his life was like, making you realize the stark difference between you and him.

You couldn’t care less about the exhibition now. In fact, fuck that entire plan entirely. As you were loitering, fooling around, planning on going to pointless events that wouldn’t be of benefit to your future, Jaemin was there, making connections and decisions and taking a step further into life.

It made you wonder what exactly had you been doing these past seven years— what haven’t you been doing, what you should be doing. You were ashamed to admit it, but it plagued the back of your mind since you got here.

Jaemin was far too out of reach.

It made the wrench in your gut worse whenever he made an effort to not make you feel that way. He’d always include you whenever he’d be with his other friends, always made sure that you didn’t feel left out since you came here, whether it be by his little cute texts even though you were in the same room just to make you smile, or by giving you all of his attention despite the many people vying for his. God, you didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve to like him.

What did you deserve?

Just then, there was a knock on your front door, followed by a buzz from your phone.

[<nana3: open the door!]

And you did, scrambling out of your bed and nearly tripping over your feet as you ran just to swing it open. Jaemin stood before you with his hair tousled by the wind, a purple and orange varsity jacket covering his frame. He greeted you with brightened eyes.

“I thought you had—”

“I left early,” he smiled at you, walking inside. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Hurry, I’ll wait here.”

You blinked at him as he passed you by to sit on your couch, unable to understand what led him to such a decision, staring as he stretched his arms over his head with a yaw. He shouldn’t have come here. “Jaemin, it’s just an exhibition, it’s not as important as your seminar.”

He raised a brow at you, stealing a pillow into his lap. “But you want to go, right?”

“Well…” you did want to go, even after your small episode earlier. “Yeah, but—”

“Then it’s more important.”

He smiled at you. You cursed at yourself for letting your heart dither.

“Besides, you actually think I’d let you go out alone this late at night?” Jaemin stood up from the sofa, resting his hand on top of your head with an affectionate gaze. “You should go change. Or maybe not. You look good in my clothes, anyway.”

It was cold outside, so Jaemin made sure that you were wearing enough layers so that you won’t get sick, forcing you back inside when he deemed that you weren’t covered enough.

“Jaem, I’m fucking sweating.”

You huffed as you lugged yourself to the front seat, but your padded winter coat was preventing you from making a smooth landing inside.

“Sweating is a good sign! That means you’re healthy,” noticing your struggle, Jaemin relented to leaving the coat at the back of the car, but keeping it there just in case. He got in after you, starting the car and turning on the radio for some background noise. “Reconnaissance Gallery Right? What’s the name of the show?”

“Mono,” you replied. “It’s by Ten Lee.”

“Oh! I remember you talking about him once,” he exclaimed. “We should hurry then.”

It was a generally quiet car ride, but the silence was welcomed. After asking where you wanted to eat dinner once you were done with the exhibit, Jaemin didn’t talk anymore. Your eyes followed the moving lights that were lit up all around the night scene, and from time to time they flickered over to admire the boy beside you who seemed to be far too engrossed with his driving. An unconscious smile grew, warmth fluttering inside. You were lucky enough to meet him again in this lifetime, even after being set apart for so long.

“Something wrong?”

He asked without looking. He must have noticed you staring.

“No,” you replied with a soft voice. “Just remembered how baby-faced you were back then.”

With a laugh, he shook his head, one hand stretched out to the steering wheel. “You’re one to talk. Alright, I think we’re here.”

You felt a rush the moment you went past the glass doors, met by a relatively large interior with walls painted either black or white and lined with numerous paintings that contrasted the wall they were hung on. With a large grin, you quickly tugged Jaemin’s arm deeper into the venue, your footsteps making hollow echoes inside the place. He was taken aback by your sudden action, heart racing when he felt your grip on him, never slowing down even when you stopped in front of one of the larger works in the exhibit. “Oh my gosh, I love this painting— wait let me take a picture.”

As you fumbled with your phone, Jaemin couldn’t help but stare at you as if you were a part of the exhibit itself. There were more people inside, yet he didn’t even notice them; paintings as pretty as the night sky, yet it was you that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Your phone camera captured it with an audible click, and he took it as a signal to scramble and take his out too.

Click!

“The painting’s really pretty, right?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah,” it wasn’t the painting that he wanted to capture. He dug his phone back into his pocket after sneaking a brief glance at your excited grin behind the screen. It wasn’t every day that you smiled like this since you were usually reserved. He didn’t want to miss saving a memory. “You wanna walk around more?”

At his suggestion, you and Jaemin decided to move deeper into the exhibit. You knew he wasn’t that knowledgeable about art, but he still listened intently whenever you told him something about the strokes and composition of some of the works displayed. You hadn’t run into Ten Lee yet even after an hour of walking around and taking pictures, but you didn’t mind at all. Jaemin froze in front of a certain painting— the visage of what seemed to be a face formed together by different objects, drawn in a style similar to the rest with the black and white motif, graffiti-esque structure, and the overall whimsical and abstract feel to it. There was a smile on his face, you wondered what he was thinking about.

“One day, it’s gonna be your paintings that will be displayed here. You promise you won’t forget about me when that happens, okay?" he started, turning his attention to you. “You should also paint a portrait dedicated to me," he joked, nudging you a little.

You smiled at him. Jaemin noticed that this wasn’t your usual smile, but he chose to not say anything. “Okay,” you breathed out before looking down seconds before he could see your expression melt away. How was he thinking so highly of you when it was him who was too far to reach?

He was about to ask— he didn’t know what to ask— but he would say whatever just to erase whatever was bothering your peace of mind. But he wasn’t able to. In fact, just as he lifted a hand to rest over your shoulder as an act of comfort, your head shot up, turning to face the sudden eruption of a commotion that Jaemin had failed to notice in his worry for you.

“Holy crap,” you gasped. “Is that—”

Ten Lee, just a few feet away from you with cameras and crowd surrounding him. You wasted no time to run to him, grabbing Jaemin’s hand in a flash to drag him behind. His eyes softened upon seeing the excited bounce of your hair as you ran. At least your spirits were brought back up again.

Jaemin watched as you nervously fiddled with the hem of your jacket as you waited for an opening to talk to the famous artist, how you would stand on your toes to peek above the small crowd and stand back down again after feeling too shy. Eventually the crowd dissipated to only around four or five people. This was your chance. You looked at him Jaemin. He nudged you with his shoulder. ‘Go,’ he mouthed. You pressed your lips together before finally deciding to march up to the artist. He didn’t realize you have been holding his hands until you let go.

“A-ah, hi!”

He followed after you in case you were feeling too nervous, but he was relieved to see that Ten Lee was pretty down to earth and easy going for someone famous. He stayed a few steps behind you as he listened to the ongoing conversation.

“I can’t tell you enough how much I adore your works. Especially, Monarch! I took a picture of it earlier and it’s so much more captivating in person,” you said, watching as Ten signed your phone case. “Actually, I—I look up to you a lot as an artist. A few of my paintings were actually inspired by your style, but of course it— it would be an insult to compare.”

“You shouldn’t compare,” he scolded, adding in a little sermon about your art is yours and that it should stand alone as your own. He handed your phone back, a smile on his face. “Can I see?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. In a flustered rush, you quickly scrolled through your gallery folders to find the specific paintings you were referring to, and Jaemin, out of curiosity, hovered over your shoulders to see as well. As you passed through your works with your friend’s mouth hanging open in awe (he wanted to gush about them, but figured this wasn’t formally appropriate), his eyes caught a glimpse of an image that you quickly swiped past— far too glaring too miss because he was sure that it looked something like his face. It was a different kind of pride that he felt when he saw that.

Ten’s eyes flickered as he saw through your paintings, something formulating within even after you hid your phone. He looked at you, grabbing your hands without any warning which caused you to squeak. “Y/N, right?” you nodded, wide eyed. “You know, I’m hosting an online gallery within the upcoming weeks. It’s for young, aspiring artists like you to be recognized at a larger scale.”

Hold on, you tried to catch on to what he was saying. Was he—

“Are you interested?”

—serious? Was he actually serious? It looked like he was because when he let go of you, a business card suddenly materialized in your hands. Holy shit.

“Think about it, okay? Just email me your portfolio and everything. Who knows, what if you get recognized and scouted after this?”

He winked at you, shooting you a thumbs up. This had to be a dream. You were still trying to process the piece of fucking paper that you were holding and now all of a sudden Ten came in between you and Jaemin, swinging his arms around your neck and giving you a pat on the back

“Anyhow, thanks to the both of you for coming to my show. And Y/N—” he looked at you with a grin. “Looking forward to your more of your works.”

Ten disappeared off with two other people, their footsteps clacking against the cold, tiled floor. You stared at the card in your hands for a few moments— Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, it wrote— before snapping your eyes back to Jaemin who was wearing a far too large smile. “Oh my god.”

Jaemin wasted no time in drowning you into a hug, knocking the air out of your lungs when he nearly toppled you onto the ground.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft in comparison to the roughness of his actions, sweetly fluttering into your ears as he rocked you left and right with his squeezing embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words nearly broke you down to tears.

“This calls for a celebration, right?” he pulled away, hand automatically falling to hold onto yours as he led you to the gallery’s exit. “My treat! I know a place nearby, we should eat an entire feast!”

“Nana, you already treated me to lunch last time, I can’t just—”

“No, no no! I’m treating you, okay? This is your achievement so I should congratulate properly.”

There was no point arguing with him when he already had his mind set, but even during your drive to a nearby barbecue place, even when you were already halfway with the meal, you kept on insisting that you’d pay him back for all of this someday. He’d only laugh it off, telling you that he doesn’t mind as long as you’re enjoying yourself. You downed a shot of soju after hearing that, hoping that it would make you forget momentarily about how fast your heart was beating.

Somehow the clock eventually struck nine, and rather than going home, the both of you took an impulsive detour to a nearby public beach. The sounds of waves crashing against the solemn quiet of the night was heard as you neared the area, bringing you to a moment of peace.

Instead of going to the sandy shore, you two decided to take a spot on the beach cliff right above the rolling water. “Be careful,” Jaemin whispered from behind as he guided you along the rocky surface, heating up from the way he was so, so close with his hands steady on your back. You two sat side by side on the cliff, underneath the veil of stars, with the ocean right in front of you.

“Are your parents okay with you staying out this late?” he cocked his head to face you in a manner that was far too cute for you to suppress a giggle.

“Jaems, they’d probably allow me to disappear off to Italy as long as you’re with me.”

The both of you broke into laughter, but it was eventually replaced by the noises of the ocean. You breathed in the salty scent of the sea, folding your knees to your chest with your arms hugging them together. For a moment your eyes flickered over to Jaemin, and a chord was strung, tugging your heart towards him, but it was impossible for it to leap out of your chest so it only rattled against your ribcage desperately just like the waves. You stared at the way his dark hair melted into the night sky, the wind brushing it away, the way he had his legs stretched out freely over the rocks while you squeezed yourself as small as you could get, and lastly, the way he flashed over to look at the exact moment that you wanted him to.

If there was such a thing as a perfect instance where the stars of the night sky aligned, it would be this.

“You know,” you started, letting your arms fall to your sides as you looked over to the distance. “I envy you sometimes.”

Jaemin was taken aback by your confession.

“I also admire you,” you pressed your lips together tightly, forming it into a smile. “A lot. I admire you a lot. To the point that it made me feel like you’re living in a completely different world from me and that I wasn’t deserving of you.”

You’d finally mustered up the courage to tell him everything you’d pent up during your first month back here— it was better than just letting it fester into something worse, even if there was a risk of completely ruining your friendship. It was better than playing pretend.

“We’re both only a year apart but it seems like you have your life all tied together while I’m still barely able to walk on my own two feet. I wouldn’t even have been able to go to the exhibit if it weren’t for you,” you crossed your legs, a mirthless laugh slipping past your lips as the wind brushed against your cheeks .“I don’t… want to seem ungrateful for everything you’ve done or make you feel bad or anything, because Jaemin—”

You turned around, looking at him.

“If I had the choice to stay back then, I would have gladly chosen to spend those seven years together with you.”

Jaemin stared at you, speechless, unblinking. He had a gut feeling that there was something bothering you all this time, but he never had thought that it would be this.

“But the feeling of seeing you again after all this time is a feeling that I wouldn’t trade for the world either,” you hummed, looking down as you traced the creases of the rocky ground with your fingers, a shaky breath slipping past you. “If only… I wasn’t just so insecure then maybe everything would be perfect.”

For a moment there was nothing— only the lulling sounds of the sea that became quieter after you laid your heart out to the ground. The next moment, Jaemin spoke up.

“I got into an accident four years ago.”

You shot up in a single instant.

Jaemin laughed a little, bringing his hand to the crown of your head in assurance. “I had a herniated disc which got worse during a dance camp. It was definitely scary, how it seemed like I was in a standstill for two years while everyone else carried on with their lives,” he continued, letting his hand drop once more right beside yours. “It’s hard to get out of that hopeless mentality. It takes small steps, but once you do, things will eventually start looking up.”

He shot you a smile, eyes twinkling under the light of the moon. You couldn’t help but put your head down after hearing everything.

“I understand how and why you’re feeling that way, don’t worry I’m not upset. You don’t think I am, right?” he caught you sniffling, leaning forward to take a look at your face but you kept on turning away. “Y/N— Y/N, look at me, okay? I’ll be your personal cheerleader from now on, yeah? Up until you realize that you’re actually greater than you think you are.”

He was too good to you.

“I’m— I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you were having a tough time.”

You silently muttered, meekly sneaking a glance at him to see that he was actually smiling at you this entire time. He’d always been like this.

“It’s alright, you didn’t have a choice, right?” he assured. “And I’m all better now, as you can see. I can even jump off the cliff into the ocean without having a single scratch!”

Right, you managed a laugh from his silly proclamation. He lit up upon hearing you. Maybe you can try to be like that too.

“What’s important is that from now on.”

There had been a gap between the two of you that entire time, but Jaemin bridged it the moment his hand brushed against your skin, his pinky interlocking with yours against the coarse ground. You met his eyes. He shot you a smile. That same smile that you could never get enough of.

“You’ll be with me.”

“Jaemin, please put your shirt back on.”

When you walked back into the living room, easel and canvas in your arms, you did not expect to be met with your childhood friend-slash-boyfriend mid-strip. In fact you were far too in shock that you dropped everything to the floor at that exact moment, only managing to utter those previous words once you were busy picking them all back up and not looking at him. He quickly ran to help you.

“Oh, I thought this was—” he passed you a paintbrush, helping you stand back up once you’ve gotten everything. “Aren’t the models for your classes usually, like, naked?”

“You think I was gonna paint you nude?!”

“Well,” he mused, holding his shirt to his bare chest. “If you want— okay, sorry! Shirt on! Shirt on!”

You settled down the easel that you just threatened to launch at him near the window where the afternoon sunlight was leaking through. A few days prior, you had contacted Ten Lee regarding the online exhibit, asking when the deadline was because you wanted to include one more piece in your portfolio.

“Nana, can you sit over here?”

There was a stool situated a few feet in front of the easel and right beside the window. He did as you said, now fully dressed and sitting properly and well behaved. You marched up to him, moving around his limbs into a specific pose. Jaemin wore a subtle smile as you grabbed his arms to a certain position, his shoulders into a certain angle, and when your fingers landed on his jaw to adjust his head, he just couldn’t help but throw all your work out the window by pulling you towards him by the waist.

“What are you—” a kiss fell on your nose. Jaemin shot you a cheeky smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

You weren’t inclined to do anything else but forgive him, even if it meant refixing him into position, but somehow you managed. Running back behind the easel, you wore a satisfied smile upon seeing the composition, flicking your wrist to start the initial sketch. There was music running in the background. Jaemin sat still for thirty whole minutes.

“Can I move for a sec?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered. “I got the basic shapes down anyway.”

He let out an amazed gasp, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape. “So cool,” he said, and you let out a little laugh.

You were trying to focus, but in between a few strokes of your pencil, he wiggled his eyebrows when you looked at him again. You threw your head down to suppress a barrage of giggles. “Okay, this is— this is going nowhere. Can I just take a picture of you?”

Even taking a shot of him was difficult because he just wouldn’t sit still. He’d always do something to make you laugh or smile just when you were about to take a picture. You scolded him, telling him that all you needed was a few takes then the both of you can make a run for some popsicles at the nearby store. He straightened upon hearing, and you finally got to do the job.

“Do you have a title in mind for the piece?” he asked, just as you finished taking the last photo of his face up close.

You did have one. In fact, you’ve had it in mind for a while now.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling. “Mahiwaga.”

Haechan, for whatever suspicious reason, volunteered to treat you out to lunch today at a family restaurant near the uni. You did not know why, and he would not tell you why, but you could not pass up free food. You texted Soorim to follow just in case you needed mental support because as you sat across him, looking up from your phone while munching your fries to catch the terrifying stare he was giving you, you could tell that you needed at least one other person around.

[you: dude, i think hes actually planning on killing me please hurry up]

[soorim: omw babe]

[soorim: but ur paying for me right]

You sighed, telling her yes you already ordered her food, and she replied with an annoying heart that you refused to mark read. Just as you were about to shut off your phone, ready to hear whatever Haechan was brewing, another message was sent your way.

[<nana3: baby, i saw the exhibition!! 🤩 you know, you’re so amazing, you know?!?! nana is super super proud of you 🥺💚 and i’m sure your parents are, too!! i sent the link to all of my friends yesterday hehe. also i’ll call you immediately after my class, ok?? don’t forget to drink lots of water today 😚 byebye! 💚]

“Are you two fucking yet?”

Haechan’s question caused you to choke on your fries, dropping your phone to the table so you can reach for the glass of Sprite. You looked at him, appalled. “I’m sorry?”

“What are we talking about?”

Soorim had belatedly joined in the party, pushing you farther into the seat to make room for herself. Her eyes zeroed in on the table, choosing the giant burger to attack first. You scrunched your nose as you looked at her.

“We—”

“Whether Y/N and Jaemin have done the dirty yet,” Haechan interrupted. You looked at him in offense and horror. He reciprocated with a deadpan stare. “You have, haven’t you? I went to Jaemin’s house at four in the morning yesterday and—”

“Why were you at his house at four?!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You looked at him in disbelief, scoffing, and you looked over to Soorim with the words ‘can you believe this guy?’ ready to fire from your tongue. You could not say it. Not when Soorim looked absolutely compelled by Haechan’s bullshit allegations. She even stopped scarfing down her food. You made a mistake in calling her up here.

“What matters is that he looked absolutely fucked out absolutely naked, but not only that!” a scrunchie. He pulled out a scrunchie from his backpack. That was yours. Even had your hair on it. “This is yours isn’t it? I’ve caught you red handed, Y/N, now answer me—”

Haechan’s eyes were out to kill.

“You wrapped it, right? I’m too young to be called Uncle Hyuck so please tell me you did.”

“We are not—”

“That explains why you were walking all weird yesterday!” Soorim exclaimed. “Y/N, you know you could tell me these things, right? There is no—”

“We are not fucking!”

This wasn’t the best conversation to have at a family restaurant.

A waiter stopped serving the table next to you, it’s occupants (that included three kids and their parents) froze and looked at you in horror. An innocent passerby spilled his drink on his tray. You sharply inhaled, bowing your head apologetically. Thank god there weren’t any managers here— the three of you might have actually gotten kicked out.

With a cough, you collected yourself, giving both of your companions the stink eye for putting you in such a compromising position. “Can I not sleep at my boyfriend’s place without— without doing anything of that sort?” you huffed, ignoring the red hot heat creeping up your neck. “And as a matter of fact, I was walking weird because I fell down the while lugging plywood up the stairs, so shut the fuck up.”

The two of them let out a shriek at the same time.

“Boyfriend?! And what— you fell off the fucking stairs?!”

“Did you do as I told you?! Did you follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your—”

“Quiet!”

You shushed the both of them before the three of you actually got kicked out.

“Yes, boyfriend. Yes, I fell off the stairs. No, I did not follow Hyuck’s guide to whatever,” you spitefully took a sip from your drink. “You never even told me what the hell that was.”

As Haechan started to further explain his guide with Soorim enthusiastically taking everything in, you were caught by the buzzing of your phone. The screen lit up. Someone sent you an e-mail— the sender you did not recognize at all. You wiped your fingers with some tissues on the table before taking the device, clicking on the notification immediately after.

“Right. After you tell him that you’re— hey! Y/N, are you even listening?”

You shot up. Haechan noticed the distraught look in your eyes. His brows furrowed together.

“What’s wrong?”

The following weekend, you went out and treated Jaemin to dinner at a fancy Chinese restaurant despite his many complaints. He was about to pay for everything again, but this time you were faster in stealing the check. Afterward, you stopped by a nearby hardware store to buy another two pieces of plywood. You’ve been painting a lot more frequently lately, and you’ve been experimenting more on larger scale works. It was fortunate that Jaemin was there to help you bring the large sheets of wood this time.

“There we go.”

Jaemin settled the wood resting upright against your living room wall, right beside a few stained cans of paint underneath layers of newspaper. You thanked him, smiling, and he ruffled the hair on your head.

“You should ask me whenever you need to do some heavy work alright? We don’t want a rerun of last time,” you cringed upon recalling. That wasn’t a pretty fall. “How are your legs? Have the bruises healed?”

“Almost. You don’t have to worry,” you assured him. He sighed in relief.

Dinner and a shopping trip weren’t the only reasons you called him out tonight. You had actually been meaning to tell him something within the past three days. Your parents knew, Haechan and Soorim found out during lunch last time, Renjun and Jeno might have already found out thanks to their loudmouthed friend. All that’s left was Jaemin. It was his reaction that would help you make the decision.

But why was it so difficult to start talking?

“I’m gonna head out now,” he hummed, pulling you into his chest. You bit down your lip, contemplating, and maybe he noticed your unease and hesitation, as if he could hear your unsaid thoughts, because he lightly pulled away to look at your face and spoke. “What is it? Do you wanna tell me something?”

Of course, you thought to yourself. He’d probably know you’re hungry before your stomach could even rumble.

You gently pried away his hands from your arms, a hollow smile directed to him. Concern flashed through his eyes, but he held back his tongue, waiting for you to say your mind instead.

“Yeah…” you started. “I— I do have something to tell you.”

That was what you said, but as the clock ticked a couple dozen times in the background, you still had yet to tell him. It wasn’t easy to tell him. Because you were afraid that the moment you opened your mouth to squeeze out a single word, you might not make it to finish the entire sentence. If it were him, this might have been easy. But you were not, so it took a little more effort on your part to let the words go.

Maybe you shouldn’t have looked him in the eye, because the moment you did, your eyes stung from the threat of tears and so you jerked your head to the side.

But you weren’t able to evade, because Jaemin decided to follow you. You turned away again, looking towards the unplugged television, but it was once again replaced by Jaemin’s dark brown eyes. Your eyes stung, your lips pressed together, and at that moment you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous actions throwing your head down in the midst of it, but your laughter got choked up by the sudden streaming of tears that you had come unprompted.

Jaemin panicked.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong? What is it?” he ducked down to reach your face, cupping your cheeks with his large hands as you wiped away your tears. “It’s okay, you can tell me, baby. I’ll listen to everything, okay?”

It took you a while to regain your voice, but Jaemin patiently waited with words of consolation. You couldn’t understand how one person could have this much goodwill and kindness in them.

Eventually your sniffling died down, and so you finally willed yourself to speak. “I— I joined Ten’s exhibition, right? And— and there was a possibility that other artists or institutions might be interested in the participants, right?”

“Mhm,” he replied, stroking the back of your head as you tightly gripped the front of his shirt. “Go on.”

“I— I got scouted? You know PIOA? In Paris? They— they offered me a full scholarship if I…” you paused for a moment, biting the inside of your mouth. “If I transfer there for the remaining months until my last year.”

Jaemin took a while to absorb it, silence flooding along with your occasional sniffles.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Ah, ah, baby look at me, look at me,” he grabbed your shoulders, frowning when he made contact with your red stained eyes. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, heart heavy from seeing you like this. It pained him to see you this way. “Why are you crying? Don’t you want to go?”

A beat of silence. You swallowed, speaking in a small, shaky voice.

“Do you want me to go?”

Another beat of silence.

“Of course! Can you imagine that out of all the people that joined that exhibit, they chose you! Your talent and hard work shouldn’t go to waste,” Jaemin inhaled sharply in between his speech, managing a smile for you to see. “I’m really proud of you, Y/N. An opportunity like this doesn’t come that easily.”

“Jaemin.”

You softly sounded, letting your head fall into his chest. He held you close, as if you were leaving at that instant.

“You know I was so happy when we got in touch again, when I came back to Korea. I know I don’t have a lot going on for me, but I could easily forget all of that because I’m with you,” once more, you felt the tears start to rise up again, but you tried your hardest to swallow them down. “It hasn’t even been that long since we got reunited and now you’re… you’re just telling me to leave you again miles, miles away as if it’s nothing.”

“It’s not like that, Y/N. It’s hard for me too, you know,” he muttered into your hair with a slight whine, his chin resting over your head. “But it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again, right? We managed for seven years, what’s two or three more?”

When he heard you stifle a laugh, laughing despite your sniveling, he couldn’t help but laugh along too. Once more and perhaps the last that night, he pulled away so he could look at the smile on your face, eyes still red and watery, and he pressed a warm kiss on your forehead.

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. We can visit each other during breaks and—” he breathed out, lips curling into a smile. “I’ll call you every day.”

Right, you wiped away your remaining tears, huffing out a brief, airy chuckle.

You looked at him, hopeful, earnest.

“Every day?”

You asked.

“Every day.”

He answered.

You were never going to get used to airports. They always carried a bitter, cold air that signified a goodbye that you were far too familiar with. Today was no different.

“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins alright? It’s a new environment so you might need some time to get used to it. Oh! And—”

“Dude, you’re worse than her actual mom.”

Jaemin shot a smile to your mother at the mention, who was waiting for your group to finish from a distance with your father. Your mother was to stay with you in Paris for a week until you got everything settled down while the four boys, Soorim, and your father decided to send you off today. Though, unlike your usual experiences with leaving and returning, today was much louder, more rowdy. It was a nice change— you only wished that it would last longer.

“It’s okay, I appreciate the concern,” you laughed. “Do I have to report back to you everything before I go to bed?”

“Well, if you can,” Jaemin mused, locking his pinky finger with yours and swinging your hand into the air from side to side. “Kidding, kidding. I trust you’ll take care of yourself there.”

A chorus of gagging noises broke out when you pulled his shirt, burying your face into his chest, prompting him to smile and wrap his arms around you. You drowned them out, though, only focusing on how warm he was despite the cold brushing of the wind, how he held you with so much gentleness that one would think he was afraid that he might break you.

It was funny how free you felt when you were trapped inside his embrace.

“How many times do I have to say goodbye to you at the fucking airport?” you grumbled, tears welling up again and so you wiped them away with your sweater sleeve. “Wait, why aren’t you crying. Aren’t you even at the very least sad that I’m gonna leave?”

Jaemin chuckled, replacing your hand with his to brush away the stray tears.

“If I cry in front of you then you probably won’t even board the plane.”

You hated that he was right.

“I’ll do it after you leave,” he let out a laugh, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. At that moment, the pre-boarding announcement rang throughout the area's speakers, signalling that it was time for you and your mother to go. Grabbing your suitcase, you sent a grateful look to each one of them— your father, Jeno, Renjun, Donghyuck, Soorim, and—

Jaemin suddenly grabbed your suitcase handle before you could go, his hand right beside yours. You locked eyes with him, wide and surprised.

He landed a kiss right on your lips.

“Call me when you arrive, okay?”

You mindlessly nodded, still in the midst of recovering from shock. Your mother called out to you to start moving.

As you walked away, head still locked behind, you watched as the four screamed, cheered, and teased your boyfriend as they shook and pushed him around like a ragdoll, while he just kept on looking at you with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll record his crying face!”

Haechan screamed despite being several feet away already, and you stifled out a laugh.

You might have to say goodbye today, but time will come when you would meet again.

Across the cobblestone tiled sidewalk, people were walking about, the streets were filled with tourists and natives, the mid noon sun was just in reach. Summers had always been crowded in the city, and you were swimming in the middle of the crowd in a far too inappropriate attire, sweating as you spoke into the phone.

“Oh, yeah. I’m on my way to the gallery now— I had to stop by at a cafe first, though.”

“You seem busy.”

Jaemin’s voice echoed from your phone’s speakers. The streetlight turned red. You followed the crowd as you crossed the street.

“Yeah… It’s a lot of back and forth work, even on the last day of the show, but it’s all worth it,”you replied. “Did you know that people kept on asking me who my muse was for Mahiwaga? Ever the popular boy, even when you’re not here.”

It has been a year and a half since you first got to France. Things have been going well on your part with your budding art career— and so far you’ve guested in three exhibitions, but you have yet to have one solo. Even though you and Jaemin promised to see each other during breaks, it was practically impossible to align your time. He was busy with internships and his organizations this year and so were you. But one thing the both of you have faithfully maintained throughout the course of your time away was calling each other every day, even if it was just for a few minutes.

A cyclist sped past you. Jaemin’s voice was heard again. He laughed at your last remark, saying that he wasn’t that popular, but all of a sudden his voice turned into a more serious tone.

“Since you have a lot of work these days…”

Your brows furrowed, squinting as the light shone into your eyes. You clutched your sling bag, heels clattering as you passed by the cream, brown, and grey buildings.

“Should we call less often?”

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

“No— no, Jaems, what are you saying? Are you sick? Are you not feeling well?” you were almost late for the opening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. What was he on about? Call less? Never had that crossed your mind even once. “I don’t even get to see you anymore, so if anything… we should call as often as we can.”

A few people passed from behind. His end of the line was silent. Your lips scrunched into a frown, confused.

“Jaemin?”

“That’s a relief.”

Before you could even ask him anything, the call ended.

“What the hell?” you huffed, staring at your phone screen in perplexity before you returned it to your pocket. Maybe he was feeling a lot more lonely than usual— that was unavoidable, but the both of you made it work. You should ask him what that was all about later. Now, you really needed to head to the gallery. With a sigh, you marched forward, stopping at an intersection where the large, eggshell white walls of the gallery stood across.

You stopped before the crosswalk, the lights green, and a few vehicles passed by, and your thoughts were once again clouded by Na Jaemin and why did he suddenly propose that. Was he getting sick of you? Was this his way of hinting a breakup? Your face contorted into a look of horror. No, you shook your head at the notion. He literally sent you a picture of a weird keychain last night saying it reminded him of you. Another sigh. The light went red. You crossed the street.

Maybe it was because you were thinking too much of him, maybe you were missing him too much, but the moment you reached the middle of the crosswalk, your heart suddenly stopped, legs froze, eyes stuck to the sight right in front of you.

There he stood, right before the front stairs of the gallery with dozens of people disappearing and passing by. He spotted you, eyes lighting up, the corners of lips automatically quirking upwards. He sent you a small wave.

You ran.

“Hi— woah!”

Maybe you were causing a scene, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t find it in you to care when Na Jaemin was right fucking here. He chuckled when you suddenly ran into him, wrapping you in a tight hug that matched your own. “You know, I was afraid that you’d actually agree to limiting our calls,” he started, and you looked up, the light shining into your eyes. Jaemin’s smile was as bright as the sun. “I thought I would have to deport myself back to Korea.”

Your lips quivered, unable to hold it back. Yeah, you shook your head, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. It’s always been like this.

“Is this where you’re holding the exhibit? Wow, it’s a lot bigger than in pictures.”

There are points in your life where you’re met with a choice— to stay or leave, to smile or cry. Always him between something else. Twice. You’ve said goodbye to him twice choosing to leave. For a moment, it might seem that you’ve chosen the other. But that was never the case, because at the end of each day it was him you were thinking of, it was him that your lines end, it would always be—

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you crying?” he exclaimed, frowning as he wiped away your tears. “Ah, it’s such a happy day today, you shouldn’t be crying.”

“I missed you, you dummy.”

—Him. You’d always choose him. Na Jaemin. Jaems. Nana. Your childhood best friend. Your boyfriend—

He smiled at you, eyes shining, pressing a kiss on your forehead before taking you into his arms once more with a shaky breath. “I missed you too.”

—Your mahiwaga.

hannie-dul-set, 2020.

#NCT-WRITERS #czennet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #na jaemin scenarios #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin fluff #jaemin fluff #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct angst #na jaemin angst #jaemin angst

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redspiderling · 4 years ago

Text

MCU Breakdown: Black Widow, Part 1

I can’t believe this is happening 😭

First of all, congratulations to all of you who’ve been here all these years. We got it. We begged for years, and it’s finally here.

For once I wasn't dreading revisiting this film to write down what I got from it. I felt more like I might not do it justice. This film is so special to me, but here it is, the MCU Breakdown of Black Widow, part 1 (of who knows how many).

I remember back when I started running this blog and talking about a hypothetical Black Widow movie that had never been announced, always "yeah, we would be happy to do it, maybe, someday in the future", and arguing that it would be important for women and girls, no matter its content. I'm so glad we got it like this. So, so glad.

The rest under the cut.

Let's start with some technical details. The film has a lot of setups and callbacks, nothing is done in chance. For example, I love how the light, and the sounds we hear when we first, and last, see Natasha in the film, are the same. We greet her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family

and we leave her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family (I'm using the term family very liberally here in reference to the Avengers for the sake of the movie, bear with me, you know how I feel about those dudes).

It's signifying new beginnings, each time, not endings. Notice how, what we see is natural light, which makes this scene pop out, and look more real because the light is coming from the sun, and isn’t artificially made on VFX software. You will notice the stark differences in colours and lighting when the emotions and the atmosphere change in this film, because there is a visual language being employed here, the director has a story to say, and she uses all the tools she has to tell it. The light is exactly the same in those 2 scenes, because Cate wants us to make that connection, even if we make it unconsciously.

Natasha is placed in such a positive way, both at the start and the end of the film. There's this discussion about how "real" their little family was, but it was the characters that muddled up that image. The reality of their lives in Ohio is presented in a happy way, that had deep rivers under the surface, for sure. This wasn't accidental, for a lot of reasons.

First of all, if you take it the literal way, they were spies, and had to present themselves as normal. If you take it the allegorical way, any girl could fall victim to trafficking, and if you take it the character way, both Scarlett and Cate wanted to showcase that Natasha is human. They also wanted to give her something that wasn't always dripping with pain and sadness. They were both parts of her life, yes, but there was also joy, and light, and once upon a time she had been a kid, playing with her sister.

Also, and this has been mentioned before but it bears repeating: I love the actress they chose for young Natasha, and I love how they presented her character. She's allowed to be a young teenage girl. She's not sexualised. She's at that gangly stage between childhood and adulthood, and there's nothing sexual about it, no provocative clothing, no excessive makeup. She's a kid.

Plus, I know Cate said the actress already had her hair dyed blue and they just decided to let her have it, but I think it works well for Natasha's character. That small act of defiance, even that early on, against the system that wanted to break her. Also, the film gives us such great character moments, because they let the camera roll and don't rush through scenes, look at Natasha looking at Melina comforting Yelena. We can see the pain, the fear, where she knows that this isn't going to last, and wonders about what will become of them once their lives begin to unravel.

We also get to see the joy on her face, the wonder of discovering the world, how often do you get to see Marvel characters do this, just live in the moment?

Bioluminescence: the production and emission of light by a living organism. Or how Natasha is a bright light, that shines from within. Not my words, Cate Shortland's words. I felt it when I was watching this scene, but it was lovely to have it verified in one of her interviews. I wish I could meet her, and tell her that everything she wanted to put on screen came through, incandescent and crystal clear. Fireflies are a symbol for Natasha, as a bright light that shines from within, and never dies.

Small details that I love, the magnet on the fridge: Don't forget, above a picture of Natasha. LIKE WE EVER COULD, CATE.

We have another setup here, where the family gathers up to have dinner together. Even the sitting arrangement is the same as later on in the film.

Notice also how both young, and adult version of Natasha, communicate so well with Melina, just with their eyes. It doesn't necessary show a deep history between them, but it does show a bone deep level of understanding. Not just of their current circumstance, but of their future, and of what it will do to them. Melina knows what's coming and she's says it "I'm sorry", but they're both resigned to their fate, Melina because she doesn't see a way out, and Natasha because, well, here she's a kid, and therefore is powerless.

The dynamics between Yelena and Alexei is so different. Yelena is young and doesn't understand, so they're speaking about completely different things. "I don't have my shoes" is what she says, and it's heartbreaking in its innocence, as Alexei is loading his gun and reading himself for battle. We can still see that he's not indifferent to her, telling her she can have "fruit loops in the car". He's not a monster, he just doesn't have a choice (or at least, he thinks he doesn't).

Also, notice how the camera angles are employed here: Natasha and Melina look each other eye to eye, Yelena looks up to Alexei, Alexei looks down on her, there is an imbalance of power and understanding in the second set of images, and the camera tells us that.

Melina doesn't let Natasha take the photo album. For one thing, it's certain that Natasha wouldn't be able to keep it. For another, Melina wanted the memories, and probably didn't want anyone else to realise/think that they cared about their little family unit.

There's just a lot of thought that's been put in the details of the script, to show us their bond, their attempts to hide it, to show the characters' personality in everything around them (notice the plants that are ever present in Melina's home, in Ohio and later in Saint Petersburg). She might seem cold, she has been through a lot, but she cares. And that care has brought her pain. And we have to see that pain, because we get the quiet moments like this one, where she stands alone in an empty home knowing that part of her life is over, never to return.

The mission, is the last thing Melina asks about. The last thing Alexei mentions, the last thing either of them cares about. First, she refused to accept that they had completed the mission and were now hunted, then she accepted it and they loaded their family in the car, and then she asked about the leaked files.

Also, notice how that shot is framed. Both images silhouetted by the light because it’s the moment and the prop smack down in the middle of the frame that’s important, now what they’re going through, emotionally, they’re not themselves in that moment, they’re nameless, tools of the trade, expendable in front of that tiny floppy disk.

Yelena is singing while the rest are plunging in despair, but still humour her and play her song.

I found this shot a bit... Jarring. I get it that for American audiences this would show that they're actually leaving "home" behind, but for the rest of us... Eeeh, I'll give it a pass because it is an American production and this is just something to be expected. I mean, Yelena's song was American Pie. We get it, you still love America, just because you're making a film about Russian spies doesn't mean you're a commie Marvel, it's ok.

But in any case, the setup for the action scene here was excellent. Happy, familiar music playing, car is on the main road, car goes off the main road familiar music gets toned down and eventually completely lost in the darkness.

Yelena knows what to do, we see it, so that we know that this 6 year old girl who holds her stuffed animal and walks barefoot has practiced for this moment.

By the way, Natasha did take another item with her along with the photobooth pictures (it also looks like a photo album with Disney princesses on it), it didn't survive the trip. We are informed of this for a very specific reason: Melina didn’t ask Natasha not to take the photo album out of malice, or just because she wanted to keep it for herself. She knew it wouldn’t survive the trip in Natasha’s hands. We also get a close shot of the image strip (and we get it again, during the credits), because it will be important, later on.

Bet y'all also forgot you were watching a superhero movie until this happened? That wasn't accidental, they wanted us to see them as normal people, this is the moment when that ends.

Natasha saved her family, even though she was a terrified kid.

I know that they did the huge titles thing to connect this film to Civil War but... Listen, Civil War needed the huge titles because that script and the way that movie was directed was a complete disaster. We needed to know where the characters were each time with huge ass title because there was NO OTHER WAY TO TELL. Between complete lack of a timeline, and the fact that you couldn't even tell what time of the day it was due to the horrible lighting, you definitely couldn't tell what the location was because it was irrelevant to the plot like, 90% of the time. Not to mention the title cards in Civil War were usually followed by dimly lit grey corridors so, yeah, give us a title so we know at least where they are, generally.

This film. Didn't Need That. For the most part anyway, there are 2 locations where the titles worked. First one was Ohio, the other I'll reveal later.

But here. Guys, they're Russian spies escaping from the US on a small plane... Where else would they go if not to Cuba?!?! This is the Black Widow movie paying for the sins of Civil War, in a small way in this instance.

Yelena tells Melina that pain only makes you stronger, Natasha cries, and they setup my heartbreak for later.

Natasha protecting Yelena, terrified, and staring men down the barrel of her gun anyway. Such a badass and heartbreaking callback.

Notice how this scene makes us look at how men view this. There's an allegory here as well, but I'll address what's actually happening in the film:

Dreykov notices Natasha's natural instinct to protect herself and her sister, and all he sees is something he can use. A tool for violence, instead of sex, in this case. But the implication is there. Not a person, or a terrified girl, just an object to be used by men.

So glad that piece of shit got blown up and never mentioned again. Any man looking for exposition on Dreykov to feel the "loss" when the villain is gone: Fuck you. Go get some therapy.

Moving on from that piece of shit, difference between Melina and Alexei: Melina apologised. Alexei lied, but he also tried to give them hope. We can see the devastation, because the soldiers never thought of them as girls like he did, and didn't blink before drugging them and taking them away.

Yet another setup, of Natasha and Yelena, drugged and powerless as they are taken away. Because it wasn't enough that they were kids, they took away all their choices, and rendered them unconscious.

What can I possibly say about this credits scene.

It's very real, probably the realest minutes in the entire MCU, and it's merciless. They don't try to sugar-coat what's happening, and there are no jokes to diffuse the drama. These are girls being trafficked from all over the world. I don't know about you but I felt the switch from true parallel to real life traffic victims like this shot that looks like footage from Interpol

to Red Room victims as being a clear shift, and I was actually grateful for it. Because here I could put my back against the fact that the red room wasn't real, otherwise I would have broken down before the credit sequence even ended.

It was a stroke of genius to create an introduction to this entire world like that. We rarely see credit sequences anymore and it's a shame, because when they're well done they tell stories in and of themselves, and this is one of the best I've seen.

Even the villain is set up here. He's pointing at girls and saying "that one, and her", like he's picking pigs for slaughter. How much more setup than that do you need, to want to murder that man dead? Not any more, that was enough.

Nobody speak to me I’m crying.

Subtle, but there. Trafficking (and traffickers) exists because it IS being tolerated by governments around the world.

Unnecessary title aside, who else says Natasha looks at herself in the mirror hear and repeats "pain only makes you stronger", as she's being hunted away from yet another family.

Then she's saying it again because it bears repeating and Natasha has been through A Lot these past few years. I love how unfiltered our first image of her is. After all she's been through, we basically see her stripped of all her tricks in a moment where she’s alone with herself and her thoughts(something we later learn she tries not to do much), and she's just a woman having a tiny breakdown in a semi-public bathroom. Again, human.

This is where I will leave you for this first part. Hey, I got through the intro, I count that as a win given just how long this breakdown has already been. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading, come yell at me in my inbox whenever, see you for the next one xo

#MCU Breakdown #Black Widow #Black Widow Spoilers #Natasha Romanoff #I'd like to think that all my followers have already seen it but just in case

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

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My lovely, when you get a chance and/or feel so inclined, id love you forever if youd write a part 2 to the story where Boba’s wife is prego, we need a little Fett heir to the throne lol. Ily! ❤️

I couldn’t resist! Enjoy!

Can be read as a stand alone or part 2 to this!

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were tired, so tired. And why? You hadn't even done anything to cause you to experience the tiredness that was dragging you down. If anything, you should have been wide awake and ready to take on the day. But as soon as you'd gotten up and eaten breakfast, you were just about ready for a nap.

That was after you'd rushed to the fresher in order to heave up everything you had just eaten.

Strange. It must have been something from breakfast - perhaps some of the fruit had been off or...something. There really wasn't anything that you thought it could be. But obviously something had disagreed with you.

"What's wrong, Little One?" A concerned expression was on his face as he removed the helmet as he came back into your bedroom. He'd expected to find you flitting around the sprawling palace tending to odds and ins, but he hadn't spotted hide not hair of you all day, "I haven't seen you all day."

"Nothing," you offered up the best smile you could muster up as you looked up from the soft bed where you were currently buried under a mountain of blankets, "just taking a nap."

"You've been tired lately," a note of concern colored his tone as he came over and sat at the edge of bed. You made a small sound as you pouted at him, shrugging your shoulders lightly. He sighed before taking his hand and gently brushing the hair out of your face. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead before following suit with your cheeks, "is everything alright?"

"Yes," you whispered softly, "I guess I'm just going through a phase. I'm sure its nothing - don't worry about me, Boba."

"I always worry," he inhaled and exhaled deeply before leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours, "I need to leave soon. I can stay if you prefer, if you're not feeling well."

"No, no, no," you insisted firmly, sitting up and fervently shaking your head, "Boba, you're not staying behind because of me. You've got to go and you will. Besides, someone needs to stay back and look over the place. It - I will be fine, I swear it."

"If you're sure-"

"Boba Fett," you tugged on his cowl, "You're going and that is final. Besides, I'll have Fennec here. Everything will be fine."

"I love you," he insisted as you beamed at him, "I'll be back soon. I won't be gone long."

"I'll hold you to it," you said as he kissed you gently, "promise me one thing?"

"Hmm?"

"Quit worrying so much!" you tapped his nose, attempting to make light of the situation, but Boba was not having it. It made you smile a little, however, to see this big, bad Mandalorian let you tease him in such a manner. Had it been anyone else in the galaxy, they would be dead on their feet within seconds, "Boba - for me? Try anyways?"

"I lost you once," he reminded you as a solemn look crossed your features, "I will not do it again."

"And I lost you too," he was not the only one who had suffered during your years of separation, "but we found our way back to each other. We always will - besides I'm not the one going out to hunt down quarry. I'll be here, safe and sound."

"Little One-"

"Boba Fett, are you forgetting that I once was the same as you?" you arched a brow as he huffed lightly and admitted silent defeat, "I am out of practice but I won't be alone. Now go and get ready - the sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back."

»»————-　♡　————-««

But then a week passed. And another. And then before you knew it, you were approaching three weeks without Boba. You knew he was fine, as you required, maybe even begged, for him to communicate with you and keep you in the loop as much as possible when he was gone.

But still - it wasn't the same as having him at home and within arms length.

Kriff. Hopefully he'd be back soon. Maybe -

But you didn't have enough time to think further into any sort of scheme as the contents of your stomach churned and you ran to the nearest the fresher.

Fennec had been looking for you, concerned at this point for your health as well. You hadn't been looking well for weeks and she was sure something was up.

"Hey," she said gently with a rap of her knuckles on the door. You sighed heavily with a wipe to your mouth as you sat down on the floor. The sniper, small but fierce, came in and sat next to you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, "are you okay? This has been going on for weeks."

"I dunno, Fen," you admitted, "I think its just some bug but I can't shake. I'm sure it'll get better soon."

"And I'm sure you should go and see a healer," she was insistent and while she had inklings of suspicion, she wasn't going to mention those just yet, "or I'll be forced to tell Fett.”

“You’re worrying over nothing,” you insisted with a small roll of your eyes. Sometimes you didn’t know who was worse - Fennec or Boba. Surely one had to have learned from the other as they became increasingly protective over you, “it’s fine, Fen.”

“It’s my job to worry about you,” she reminded you softly, “otherwise Fett will have my head. Besides, I happen to care about you as well. Please go to the healer this afternoon and just get a check up. What can it hurt?”

“Fine,” you agreed, begrudgingly, crossing your arms over your chest, “fine. But when nothing is wrong, I will gladly tell you both I told you so.”

“We’ll see about that, Princess,” Fennec gently pushed your hair out of your face as you huffed lightly. You felt more like a child than a respected adult at that moment.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As you made your way back home - the newly redone and revamped palace that was welcoming to all - an odd sense settled over you. You felt...a million different things all at once, but none of them seemed real. A few tears had run down your cheeks as you almost laughed to yourself. You certainly weren’t going to be able to tell them I told you so after this.

And yet you didn’t mind - not at all. In fact, among all the worries and fears that rushed through your body, you were excited. Thrilled even. Who would have thought?

Marching down the stairs to the throne room, you expected to find Fennec to share your news with her, but instead you found a different sight. One that sent a spike of excitement flowing through your blood.

“Boba!” you hopped down the last few steps and bounded over to him. He immediately looked up from what he was working on, a smile gracing his features as he held his arms open to you. You almost bowled him over in your excitement, a feat compared to how much of a tank he was in the armor, “my love - you’re home!”

“As are you,” he kissed the top of your head before putting his hands on either side of your face, “Fennec told me you went to see the healer. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, but it can wait - how was your trip?”

“It was fine,” he gave you a curious look, “just business as usual. Now tell me - what aren’t you telling me?”

“You weren’t hurt or anything were you?” you looked him up and down, checking his face to make sure there were no new marks or injuries before following suit with the parts of him that were exposed to you. He scoffed lightly as you fawned over him, but deep down the big bad bounty hunter lavished in your praise, “no mishaps?”

“No mishaps, no injuries,” he promised as you peppered a few kisses across his cheeks, “out with it, Little One. I know you’re hiding something, you always get like this.”

“Hmmm,” you mused as you took a step backwards and tried your best to keep from brimming over with excitement, “and you are always a big worry wart over nothing, my love.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he insisted with a waggle of his finger, “now out with it, what’s going on.”

“Remember how I was feeling before you left?” you asked and he nodded with a grimace, “well I haven’t been feeling better-”

“You told me you had,” he accused as you gave him a sheepish look, “were you lying to me?”

“Maybe…” you plastered on the most innocent expression you could, “but none of it matters-”

“Of course it does!”

“Hush,” you held a finger up to his lips in order to silence him, “lemme finish. Well, this morning I still wasn’t feeling better, and Fennec insisted I go to the healer. She insisted and said you would too.”

“Of course I would, I’ve been telling you since -”

“I know, I know, I know,” you rushed out the words, very fiber of your being trembling with excitement, “I found out the reason I haven’t been well.”

“Is it a bug?” he asked as you shook your head, causing him to tilt his head to side in confusion, “if it’s not...what could it possibly be?”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out excitedly, unable to hold back any longer. Boba’s face shifted through about a million expressions as he looked at you expectantly and you nodded. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth before he pulled you into his arms, clutching you against him as tightly as he possibly could, “we’re having a baby, Boba!”

“A baby,” he back as he studied your face, gently wiping away at the tears that had rolled down your cheeks while his own eyes glistened as well, “Little One - cyare - this is far better than I could have expected.”

“I know,” you agreed as he kissed you, “I never thought...it all makes sense now. The fatigue, not being able to keep food down - it’s so obvious. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

“A baby,” he was incredulous, unable to form a coherent thought at the exciting news. He never thought he would get this - you, a baby, an empire, anything - but it was, all coming to bless him at once. He had never been more thankful than in that moment. He looked down at your stomach, where there was still no evidence of your pregnancy just yet, but sighed contentedly before placing a gentle hand over it. He couldn’t wait to see you grow round with your child - his child - as time went on. If you thought he was protective over you before, then you were in for something else. Now that he had everything he could possibly ever want, he was never letting it go.

“You’re - you’re happy right, my love?” you asked as he met your eyes, lips trembling as they were tugged up lightly in the corners. Touching his cheek lightly, he keened into your touch before you gave him a gentle kiss, “I know we didn’t...plan this, but I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he promised as he wrapped you into another warm hug, this time being gentle with your stomach as you laughed, “I am happier than any man deserves to be. All thanks to you, Little One. I love you.”

“I love you too Boba,” you agreed, “I am so happy, so so happy. But there is one thing…”

“You’re not going to be able to call me Little One much longer,” you grinned as you put on your belly, “not once the real little one comes around.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted softly, “you’ll always be my Little One, Princess. Always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#boba fett #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #the Mandalorian #temuera morrison

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level.

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines.

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri.

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time.

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it.

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed.

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why.

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes...

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-... I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

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itcameuponamidnightqueer · 4 years ago

Text

beau wakes up calm.

it’s a feeling so pervasive that she’s almost unsettled by it. their lives aren’t calm right now, between eiselcross and vess de rogna and now these eyes that keep popping up all over her and caleb. any calm she feels is usually immediately overshadowed by guilt for feeling it.

but beau can’t find it in her to feel guilty right now, not when the tower is quiet and there is a large, warm arm thrown protectively over her stomach. not when beau can feel the tickle of hot air at the back of her neck as yasha breathes, steady and restful in a way she doesn’t get to be when she’s awake. beau considers learning magic just so she can stop time and give yasha all the rest she deserves.

for now, she slowly rolls onto her back, taking care not to jostle yasha or slip out from under her secure embrace. she rolls over and doesn’t open her eyes until she’s on her back, the mirror directly above her, waiting.

it’s a sex mirror. of course it’s that, because caleb said as much when he told her about it, and god, does she owe him a week’s worth of uninterrupted research or whatever nerdy thing he wants in return. it’s a sex mirror and she and yasha have checked that off their list already, at least for the first time. second, fourth, something--they have definitely checked that off their list for a quantifiable number of times, it’s just that beau doesn’t quite know the number.

it’s a sex mirror but it’s also not because it’s more, because beau opens her eyes and can see the two of them as they are now--wrapped together, heavy and sticky in the illusory sunlight, sheets draped carelessly across their legs. they look good together. it isn’t the first time beau’s thought that, and with any luck (and a lot of hard work), it won’t be the last. but this is the first time that beau’s had the chance to really sink into that feeling, to see the reality of it and commit it to memory.

beau takes her time looking, glances over her own familiar body and the way it melts against one she can’t wait to know better. she should be a little cold perhaps, given that the sheets don’t go any higher than her hips and she hasn’t been wearing clothes for a good couple of hours. but yasha is so very there, so wide and curled around her in a way that seeks comfort as much as gives it. she’s on her side, the parts of her that aren’t touching beau sprawled greedily across the expanse of the bed. beau could spend hours looking at this reflection of them, of yasha and the curve of her muscles; the way her skin actually seems to create a glare in the early morning light. it’s so bright normally, even brighter now for the nearness of beau. time is fleeting and the tower will disappear soon and so beau is greedy--she looks at the angle of yasha’s legs, the way she twitches her toes on the one foot that hangs over the edge of the bed. beau looks at yasha’s back, the slope and strength of it; she remembers how solid and warm it felt under her fingers just a few hours ago. beau has known how sturdy yasha is since they met--has lusted over it since then, to be honest--but to feel it within her grasp, to be pressed against it and to have it soften and yield at her touch…

beau would learn magic to give yasha the peace she needs. she would learn art to memorialize this moment and the way they look together.

she watches yasha sleep, clocks the way her nose is pressed into the crook of beau’s neck. she almost cries at the drape of yasha’s arm across her chest--a few inches down and she’d have a handful of boob. as it is, beau’s heart is beating a rhythm right into yasha’s palm.

beau turns her head away from yasha and clears her throat. “hey.” she clears it again when it becomes clear just how ragged it’s gotten. “dachsies, can you hear me? or do i have to yell.” she waits, straining to listen for the soft clink of a tiny bell or two. “frumpkin?” she tries again.

there is a faint ‘mrrp’ and the door to her bedroom opens slightly, just wide enough for a lithe fey cat to slip through. she can’t see frumpkin as he enters the room, but he’s there all of a sudden, jumping noiselessly and weightlessly on top of the bed.

he stares at her expectantly and beau wishes very much that caleb isn’t snooping, too.

frumpkin walks forward and sits next to her, the not-quite-fur of his tail swishing against her side. beau can’t help reaching out with the hand that isn’t trapped by yasha’s body and giving him a few scratches under his chin. he preens, closes his eyes tilts up to give her a better angle, and settles right back into his serious face when she pulls away.

“can you get the hot tub going again,” beau murmurs, “with some nice shampoos and shit? and maybe start working on a few dozen pancakes; i’m sure the others are gonna barge in here soon. make sure there’s a stack of spider ones for me and yash.”

frumpkin chirps again, butts his head against her chest as he jumps off the bed. beau reaches out to affectionately grab his tail, chuckling as it slips through her hands.

yasha is awake when beau turns back to look at her.

“hello,” yasha whispers. “good morning.” beau cuts her off with a kiss. “i love you.”

beau smiles at that, rolls over and presses herself firmly into yasha. she repositions yasha’s arm to wrap around her back, laughs when yasha drifts downward and squeezes her ass. beau kisses her again and again, slow and firm, catching any inch of lips or neck that she might have missed before. her hands roam without any destination, traipsing over the plane of yasha’s stomach, tickling at the dimples in her shoulders underneath which her wings sprout. beau knows how sensitive those spots are now, and she presses her fingers against them, syncs that up with another determined kiss. she doesn’t miss the way yasha’s tongue stutters against her own, the brief loss of contact she sacrifices to gasp, just a little.

yasha’s nails turn inwards and dig into beau’s hips, and beau returns the favor.

beau reaches upward and grips yasha’s chin, marveling at the fact that her thumb seems to fit perfectly over the line of black beneath yasha’s lip. she pulls away and tickles the skin there, can’t resist one more kiss, especially when it elicits that special, breathy kind of laugh from yasha.

she makes sure yasha’s eyes are open and looking at her before she speaks.

“i love you, too,” beau says, her voice deeper and hoarser than usual, even for the morning. “last night was...i won’t ever forget it, yash.”

“me either.”

“might have been the best night of my life.”

“not if i have anything to say about it,” yasha winks. “i wish we didn’t have to leave.”

“yeah,” beau sighs--breathes, really, and she falls a little more in love with the way yasha doesn’t turn her face away from what is definitely a bad case of morning breath. “we’ve still got some time before we have to, though. the dogs are setting up the hot tub right now.”

yasha laughs, deep and rumbly and beau feels it in her chest. “before all of you i never would have understood that sentence.”

“right?”

“mhm. it is--a very fun thing to think about.”

yasha gently lifts a strand of hair from beau’s face and tucks it behind her ear. beau watches the entire time, so entranced by the size and safety of yasha’s hands, so determined to follow their path with a kiss, that she misses yasha’s other hand coming up to rest behind her legs, and beau lets out a very uncool yelp as yasha lifts her from the bed.

yasha drags them across the mattress, stands and gets herself situated, and it isn’t until they’re halfway to the floating pad that beau clocks exactly how she’s being carried.

yasha’s arms are confident beneath her shoulders and legs, and beau has looped her arms around yasha’s neck instinctually, and tears start to well up in this moment of realization.

“yasha…”

yasha stops walking, leans down and kisses her, and it isn’t because they’re naked that beau is glad no one can see them right now.

beau flutters through her feelings and rests her head against yasha’s chest, silently, as they float gently down to the hot tub.

everything seems more muted in the daytime--the lionesses aren’t as imposing, the slides aren’t as tempting. but the steam and smells are just as inviting, and beau lets herself be carried into the water, settling into the warmth as yasha reaches for the soaps.

they both slip under the water; beau shakes her head and scratches at her scalp while she lingers, getting out the last of her restless energy. she pops back above the surface and drifts over to yasha, who has settled into the corner, her arms resting elegantly atop the stone edges. beau drops into yasha’s lap without a word, humming, content, as yasha’s arms slip back into the water and wrap around her body. yasha snakes her legs over the parts of beau that her arms can’t reach until beau is completely covered, completely enveloped in her love.

beau has always been attracted to women who could break her--big, strong women whose bigness and strength almost always equated to a good, long time in the bedroom. and yasha has that in spades--probably invented it--but it sure is fuckin’ something else to know that breaking is only half of it, that the flip side is that beau can be fully contained and sheltered in yasha’s arms. bigness is a comfort as much as it is a challenge. yasha uses her size to hold and cherish just as much as she uses it to fight.

beau sinks down so that her nose is just above the surface of the water, and tries her very best to pretend she isn’t crying. the effort is abandoned when she gets out of her head and realizes yasha is very carefully and very thoughtfully soaping up her hair with thick, gentle fingers.

beau sits up a bit and spits some water from her lips. “how come you’re so good at that?”

yasha takes a moment to think, tilts beau’s head back so she can rinse the shampoo out. “zuala and i didn’t have as much time together as i wanted,” she answers, “but we made sure to treasure every moment we were allowed.” she rubs her hands together, presumably spreading conditioner over them; beau can hear the slickness of it echo through the air. “i am able to follow a god because i had a wife once,” she says, quiet and matter-of-fact, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

god.

“well, fuck.” beau closes her eyes and tries to relax her shoulders as yasha’s hands knead through her hair again. “did you--i mean, i don’t want to overstep but--it was like this? all the time?”

yasha is quiet again, patient with her feelings and beau and the combination of the two. she slows her ministrations and rests her hands on the sides of beau’s face, her thumbs tickling at beau’s ears.

“the only similarity between the love i feel for zuala and the love i feel for you is that it is coming from me,” yasha finally says. “it was like this, yes--and it wasn’t like this at all. it was different because it was her. the whole world was different because it was her, you know?”

beau nods. “hope so,” she replies. “trying to, at least.”

yasha squeezes her cheeks, presses a kiss to the top of her soapy head. she gently pushes beau underwater and scrubs her hair clean with a little more force this time. beau lays back and watches, smiles as yasha scoops a hand underwater and brushes it over her lips.

beau sits back up feeling more refreshed and loved than she ever has in her whole life.

she swirls around to face yasha, lets the water guide her back to yasha’s lap. beau hooks her legs around yasha’s torso, lets the water hold her up as she drapes yasha’s hair over her shoulders.

“your braids could use a little touch-up,” she murmurs.

yasha, so sensitive and careful about her hair, simply nods and watches as beau lets it out, making tidy piles with the ties and ribbons on the ledge. yasha’s hair billows out once the last bunch is free; in the water, she looks beautiful and serene.

beau rests her hands on either side of yasha’s face, swipes her thumbs under yasha’s eyes as they kiss. “thank you,” she says, softly, “for loving me.”

yasha sighs and kisses her again. “you make it easy, beau. you don’t have to thank me.”

“i do,” beau insists. “for now, i do.”

she directs yasha away from the wall, takes her place in the shampoo corner. it’s a little different this time--beau can’t surround yasha quite as fully, and she has to wrap her legs around yasha and float to get a good angle to wash her hair. but yasha doesn’t complain, and she rests her arms on beau’s thighs and slides her hands over her legs, soothing and present. the water never cools off and the dogs are somewhere else, and for a few quiet moments, nothing in the world exists except this tub in this tower, hidden in a smelly, dirty tavern.

they’re clean and laughing in the kitchen by the time the rest of the party trickles in. beau can hear jester and veth speaking at cartoonishly loud volumes, announcing themselves just in case beau and yasha are doing anything worth being interrupted.

beau smiles, grabs a spider-less bite of pancake, and squeezes yasha’s hand.

“oh, here they are,” caduceus says as they file in. he takes a deep breath and smiles at the spread of food. “what a feast.”

he disappears, probably to make some tea, and beau looks at yasha for just a moment longer before the energy is too much to ignore.

she turns and almost bursts out laughing at the sight of everyone, lined up in front of the table, watching the two of them intently. veth’s eyes are as big as saucers and jester’s are shimmering, her hands clamped over her mouth. next to her, fjord is blushing and even caleb is sporting a smile, reluctant though it may look.

“hey,” beau says. she smiles casually and she means it.

“you’re so cute!!” jester shouts, flinging her hands away from her face. “oh my god, you guys, you have to tell me everything; i’m so happy for you even though we had to sleep in that super stinky room. please tell me it was worth it.”

beau laughs, winks as she tickles yasha’s hand. “totally worth it, jes,” she promises. she gets up from the table, kisses yasha’s knuckles as she does, and gestures for jester to take her seat. “talk to yasha for a sec, okay? i left you some spider-cakes.”

beau is too focused on grabbing caleb to notice the way jester scrunches her nose.

she doesn’t catch fjord’s eye as she leads caleb out of the room and she definitely doesn’t look anywhere near veth. she just drags her cranky wizard to a corner out of eyesight of any window in the kitchen and crosses her arms.

“if you’re about to tell me everything,” caleb says, “please don’t be offended when i say that i would be happier not to hear it.”

“what? no, gross. i mean, not gross-gross, but because--you, gross, right?” beau clears her throat, gently punches caleb’s shoulder to center herself. “i don’t...wanna tell you stuff. i just wanted to do this away from everyone else.”

caleb narrows his eyes. “do what?”

beau steps forward and hugs him. there’s no hesitation or coaching this time, just a strong press of her arms, and she stays there as long as it takes for him to hug back and mean it.

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “this was….very special to me.”

“of course,” caleb mutters. “you need only ask, beauregard.”

“yeah, you say that, but it’s like--i know it, now.” to her horror, beau sniffles.

“i am glad you had a good time.”

“the best.”

“you smell very nice. thank you for bathing before hugging me.”

“i got you, dude.”

“can you let go of me now?”

“yeah, sure.” beau steps back and gives him one last shoulder squeeze.

caleb nods and squeezes back. he snaps his fingers and frumpkin is there, leaping onto his shoulder as they walk back toward the kitchen,

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #this is??? soft and gay and so much???#idk you guys i had a lot of feelings and this is what happened #i'll post it on ao3 later but for now i must eat something #long post #tumblr fic #cr: regular nein

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karlnapity · 4 years ago

Text

no children.

ranboo may have his own problems, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid.

he’s an observer. from the moment he finds himself at technoblade’s home, he can see it.

and he sees it. he can see it in the way philza lays his wing over ranboo’s shoulders, he can see it in the way he brushes techno’s hair off his shoulder when the man is working.

philza minecraft is built to be a father, and he, probably, tries his hardest. his efforts travel between hesitant and reckless, from confident to fearful.

he gives gifts to techno and helps ranboo and crafts and blows things up and it’s desperate, ranboo can see it.

and phil pats ranboo on the shoulder, giving him a smile, and it turns painful for a single stuttering moment before he turns away.

ranboo is a replacement. techno is a replacement. because phil can’t look the ghost in the eye and his hands shake when he’s handed blue.

> he keeps a sword on the wall, and he doesn’t look at it. he does, one day, while he’s in the middle of a conversation with ranboo, and he goes very, very still. ranboo pats his shoulder, and after a few long moments he gives him a ghostly, wan smile.

he does not take it off the wall. ranboo doesn’t dare touch it. if he looks closely, he can see a speck of dried blood on the gleaming metal.

he doesn’t look at it much either.

> philza minecraft is built to be a father, and he takes ranboo fishing. ranboo is telling him something or other, and he insults tommy. and he freezes.

phil just laughs. it’s not nice, what he said, and he expected a reprimand, expected phil to tell him to stop, and he doesn’t get it.

he goes very silent. after a moment, he says, “isn’t tommy your kid?”

phil doesn’t laugh, this time.

“no,” he says, and his hands tighten around his pole. “he’s just wilbur’s brother.”

ranboo is an observer, and he doesn’t ask questions.

> techno rebukes phil’s attempts with a gentle and empty hand.

phil will help tuck his hair behind his ear, place a blanket on his shoulder, mumble advice to him. techno doesn’t need it- ranboo can’t imagine a world where he would- but he’s surprisingly gentle as he brushes phil’s hands away. he lets phil take care of him as best he can, even if it’s not needed.

ranboo asks him about it, one day. phil has just passed by, floating like a ghost, and he’s pat both ranboo and techno on the back as he comes by. techno gives him a surprisingly gentle smile, but his expression hardens again when ranboo asks.

“he deserves it, if he wants to,” is all he says, voice rough, and he doesn’t elaborate.

> phil avoids ghostbur at all costs, but he always bends in the end. ghostbur will ask him for something, or need help with friend, or simply want to be in his presence, and phil will always cave eventually.

there’s always a strange mix of joy and complete and utter misery on his face, and it hurts ranboo a bit to see.

at least ghostbur doesn’t come around much anymore, ranboo thinks at first, but soon enough it becomes apparent it’s only worsening phil’s mood.

ghostbur remembers and forgets friend’s unfortunate fate like the weather. one minute he’s happy to see phil, the next he’s shouting.

he’s stopped coming around.

phil has stopped caving.

> phil latches onto ranboo in a strange way. techno is still wary, still unsure about whether he can trust him, which ranboo doesn’t mind. after all, he deserves it, and he’s used to being deemed untrustworthy.

phil seems to hold none of the same reservations. it doesn’t take ranboo long to realize he’s a replacement. for wilbur or tommy, he’s not sure, but all the same phil forces his mentorship onto ranboo in a terribly overbearing way.

ranboo hasn’t quite had a father before, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t quite what it’s supposed to be. it’s strange, a mix of doting and complete and utter neglect.

but phil doesn’t force his opinions on ranboo, and they seem perfectly happy to leave him to his own devices at the end of the day, so he can’t complain that much.

> ranboo asks ghostbur, one day, if he remembers anything about growing up with phil. ghostbur tilts his head, thinking hard, before he says,

“i don’t think he was around that much.”

ranboo thinks about what fundy’s told him, of wilbur’s overbearing parenting and constant diminution. thinks about what that might mean.

ghostbur doesn’t say much else after that.

> ranboo can’t stop shaking. he paces back and forth in his shack, letting out ender noises every couple seconds. he can feel his brain stuttering in panic, hands coming to rest on his face and head. he can’t breathe, can’t do much of anything. he tries not to tear up, only knowing the continued pain and panic it will inflict.

all of a sudden he feels a hand on his shoulder. at first, he jolts away, but soon enough he’s taken into someone’s arms, wrapping around his chest and holding him close. he leans into them, grateful for the contact.

“it’s alright, mate, it’s ok,” phil murmurs, one hand reaching up to his hair. “it’s ok.”

he lets out an ender croak, clutching close to the man.

phil holds him close until he falls asleep, and when he wakes up the next morning he feels a bit less alone.

> “what’s that?” ranboo asks as he enters the house. he’s become a bit bolder, lately, as techno’s started trusting him more and more, and he’s started feeling comfortable within the house.

phil’s leaning against a wall, looking at something, and techno’s looming over his shoulder and pretending not to be interested. “photos,” phil answers, handing him one. techno huffs.

it’s a picture of wilbur and phil, standing outside some sort of house. phil has his arm looped over wilbur’s shoulder, and they’re both grinning. wilbur looks around ten in the picture, gap-toothed and enthusiastic. it seems so uncharacteristic of everything he’s learned about the man, but he supposes everyone had to be a kid at some point.

“that’s when i left for my hardcore world,” phil explains. ranboo stops himself from frowning. he left him that young?

“cute,” is all he says, handing back the photo. phil smiles gently, too lost in his thoughts to notice ranboo’s tone.

> “I gave up on them,” phil murmurs one night, and ranboo doesn’t think he’s supposed to hear it.

he’s an observer, and he doesn’t answer.

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alyssadeliv · 4 years ago

Text

The Forgotten One

First Previous

Chapter 4

Everything hurt. Her body felt as if it was on fire, her limbs were heavy and her head was pounding, she tried to open her eyes and understand her surroundings, but they refused to cooperate so she sought to use her other senses to identify where she was, even in a lot of pain she couldn’t forget her training, so she remained calm until she knew what she’s dealing with. It only takes her a couple of seconds to remember what happened. The attack on the League, the Temple crumbling to the ground and her being trapped under it. After that it was a void, so she must have passed out at some point.

She could tell she wasn't still trapped under the rubber because she could feel the softness of a mattress under her and not the hard temple training grounds, it was either nighttime or she was in a room without windows. She couldn’t hear a thing that indicated that there was another person with her, but she can identify cars in a far distance, so she must be close to a city. She feels cared for, so rules out being captured for now.

She isn’t sure how long she laid there, but streams of lighting start to appear somewhere above her from what she can see with her closed lids. The sun is up when she finally can open her eyes.

She is in a bare room, that must be used as storage from all of the boxes around. She’s in an attic in an elevated part that contains just the bed, an iron stair makes way into the second part of the room, she can see from her position that the only way out is through the trap door on the floor, although she can assume that the lighting coming from above her must lead to a balcony. She feels better now, her pain is gone and her limbs ultimately start to obey her again. She had just sat up when the trap door started to open.

She prepares herself for what is to come, she does not have any weapons and she’s not sure she can beat another assassin in a fight in her current state, even with the pain now gone. To her surprise is her godmother that enters the room she’s resting in. She carries a plate with food and a glass of water. She has a warm smile that Marianne has only seen a couple of times, normally reserved for birthdays and celebrations, but still reassures her that she’s safe and cared for.

“It's good to see you’re finally awake. Gave us quite a scare”

“Where am I?”

“Safe” With her tone she can tell that the conversation is over, so she simply accepts the plate that is offered and starts to eat what's been given, a tasty sandwich with a red tart at the side. If it was any other person that came into the room she wouldn’t have been so quick to accept the food, but she knew that her godmother would never hurt her, she was one of the only people she trusted with her life, like a second mother to her.

“How do you feel?” Sabine asks only after the food is gone.

“Surprisingly fine. The pain is gone and I feel normal again. How is this possible? Where are we? How long was I out? What happened with the League? What happened to Damian? Is he here? Is he safe?” The questions jump out of her mouth before she can control them. Rambling has always been a trait of hers, one that she thought to be long under control. But given the situation, she can’t blame herself to look after answers.

But Sabine calmly answers every one of her questions. She doesn’t get into details about the attack but she understands that one of her grandfather’s star pupils betrayed them and orchestrated the attack to take the Demon Head power to himself and rule over the Order of Assassins. Sabine and Master Fu were together at the Temple when it all started and went to look for her, only to realize that she must have thought the same and went to look for them. They saw her being crushed by the falling debris, and they were the ones that dug her out.

She died.

That piece of information stays in a loop in her mind. She died. Master Fu brought her back. Being brought back to life wasn’t impossible, she knew that her grandfather had been doing that for centuries, but he needed the Lazarus Pits for that, and she knew the symptoms of someone that used them, she had seen them first hand from her grandfather or when she was in charge of training a recruit that her mother had taken pity on. She was only ten, and the boy 13 at the time. One of her most proud accomplishments. Her grandfather was so proud of her for training the next generation, even if the boy was technically older than her. She knew the symptoms and she definitely wasn’t brought back using these methods.

“Master Fu will arrive here shortly, he can explain it better”

“Where is here? Where are we? Where's Damian?” She’s desperate, she needs to know where her baby brother is. That he is safe. “Please tell me he’s here!”

Sabine has a heartbroken expression on her face, and that's all the confirmation she needs. The tears roll down her face before she can stop them. All her efforts had been in vain, Damian wasn’t here.

“We are in Paris. He’s not here, but he’s safe” Her godmother tries to reassure her, she dries the tears in her face and strokes her hair trying to comfort the distraught girl. “He’s in a safe place as well, your mother made sure of that. But for now, you can’t go after him, Master Fu will explain why, you just have to trust me when I say I only want what’s best for you”

She then proceeds to tell her best-kept secret so far. She’s married, and they are at her husband’s house, above his bakery. She tells her of how in one of her missions she met the love of her life. But because of her, she knew she couldn’t leave the League just yet, she needed to be there for little Marianne and her bright smiles, to make sure the League didn’t kill the kindness in her. She always visited Paris after a mission. It became some kind of ritual, and no one ever questioned it. Her husband, Tom, knew about her lifestyle and knew that she couldn’t just leave her goddaughter behind, he respected that, even loved how caring his wife was. Sabine begs Marianne to not be guilty that she couldn’t have a better kind of life because of her.

“The best thing in my life is knowing that I helped raise the most selfless and kind woman, I’m so proud of what you become. Never forget that.”

By the time Master Fu finally arrives she’s just so tired. But her need for answers is bigger, so she allows her godmother to guide her to the living room. When they get there she’s surprised, to say the least. Her master is there, but he is not alone. He’s accompanied by two very anxious Kwamis.

“Marianne is so great to finally meet you! I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long!” Tikki, The Goddess of Creation addresses her. But she stays there stunned. She grew up learning about these entities, preparing for the moment she would get to meet them, but there she stays, unable to properly function. So much has been happening in the last 24 hours, and she feels like she’s in shock.

“Great job sugar cub, you broke the kid” Plagg, The God of Destruction comments.

“She’s probably just surprised to finally see us, don’t be rude”

It feels surreal to see these mystical creatures just bickering like children in her godmother’s husband’s living room. She almost feels like she’s dreaming. Feeling her discomfort, Master Fu decides it is better to address the situation.

“Come sit Marianne. It’s time I give you some answers.”

For the next hour, she learns a part of history she never knew about.

Her Master calmly explained to her that by the time they were able to release her from the ruins of the temple, it was too late. But something in him knew there was still hope. Because she was Tikkis chosen, her soul takes more time to disconnect itself from the physical world, so The Grand Guardian did something that wasn’t wrong but still considered taboo. He asked Tikki to use her energy in order to anchor her spirit back into her body. He didn’t use the wish from the Miraculous, so it wasn’t as dangerous. That had only been done once, somewhere when the pharaohs were still in power. One of the Guardians had fallen madly in love with a woman chosen by Tikki, but she got sick and died. Consumed with grief he ordered the Kwami into bringing her soul back.

Because it had happened so long ago they didn’t know the reaction it would cause in her already existing powers. So, for now, it would be better if she stayed in Paris, close to her Master’s, where she could finish her training and receive guidance if needed. They still didn’t know the situation within the League, so it was best to lay low for a while.

So there she stayed. For a whole month, she lived with her godmother and got to know the man she called her husband. It was funny, that the super badass and strict woman everyone knew would turn into the warmest person when around the baker. Marianne could tell they loved each other very much just by the way they looked at the other. In the League love was not something that happened very often. So it felt nice to be in contact with something so pure.

She also kept going on with training, just like Master Fu said they would. It was as if her life was completely new but completely equal to what it was before. She would wake up early, eat something, normally delicious made by Tom, and go to where her master was living, a massage parlor that served as a disguise from his real job as her teacher. They would start by meditating and then move into physical training. It was different, Fu wasn’t so young anymore so now she tended to train alone. She missed her brother so much that it hurt. Knowing where he was but not if he was okay. She wished that there was a way for her to contact him, but knew it would be safer if she didn’t. Just knowing he was with Father makes her feel a little better, she remembers her Mother’s stories of the fearless Batman, so if the time comes she knew he would be safe.

Nothing out of ordinary happened so far, her powers kept the same, maybe a little more intense, but nothing she couldn’t handle. But they were confident that there would not be any other side effects so far. Everything was back to normal, or that’s what they thought.

Imagine their surprise when on one of their meditation sections the both were suddenly overwhelmed by the intense energy that they received. It was dark, nothing like she ever had felt.

“Master, what was that? I have never felt something like it” Her teacher looked like he had seen a ghost, pale and with an anxious expression

“I’ve only felt this type of energy once. We must prepare, something bad is on our horizon. It’s time to activate your miraculous”

“What? Are you sure Master? Please tell me what is going on!” She pleaded.

“The Peacock and the Butterfly Miraculous, a long time ago, when I was just an apprentice, were thought to be lost. This was when The League and the Order were constantly at war. Some of my fellow disciples got greedy. They wanted the power the Miraculous had to offer, they thought themselves worthy of wielding their power and destroying the League of Assassins. There was a fight, and the first Temple of The Order was compromised. Some of us escaped, but we lost a lot. That day… I felt the same type of energy. I believe somewhere in this city, someone is preparing to cause chaos. We must be ready for when it happens.”

“How do we do that?”

“We need to find the Cat Miraculous wielder”

There is a little easter egg in this chapter, let’s see if anyone can tell what it is! The taglist is still open so feel free to ask to be tagged! Please tell me what you thought of this chapter, I’m dying for some feedback

Taglist: @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13 @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @iamabrownfox @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades @thefangirlwholiterallydies @astoriaandromeda @unnamed2357 @little-lady-bird @imdaqueenie

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ailelie · 3 years ago

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In case of time travel...

If you are traveling through time or caught in a time loop, do try to convince me. Once you have, I'll tell you a code word I've had set aside for, oh, a long while now that should be all you need to convince me in the future. This is also useful for any other scifi or fantasy situation in which I have to convince myself or give someone else the means to convince me of the truth.

(Do you know how hard it was to choose a word I'd never forget and otherwise would never use? And one that had enough backstory from before I chose it that it could work in my far past as well? And that no one else should ever be able to guess? I no longer even remember when I came up with the word. It must have been high school or college.)

If I am time traveling, do know that my mindset is 'screw the future.' I will make changes. I will try to fix things. Everything is more extreme when viewed over the neighbor's fence. We've survived our current timeline. We'll survive the new one, too. I decided long ago that the best approach to life is to operate within my frame of reference (aka, it doesn't matter if the world is a simulation so long as the world is real to me).

#time travel

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literate-lamb · 4 years ago

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Man of the House | five

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader | 18+

A visit to your landlord uncovers a past.

► word count: 3.6k

► warnings(!): injuries, masturbation, hallucination. this is a dark fic.

|| Series Masterlist ||

A/N: A bit of a slow chapter but we’re nearing the end lads!

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

“We’ve checked everything, sir.”

It was hard to believe. There must be somewhere they had overlooked. Something felt amiss, you knew it.

“There were no signs of a forced entry. Everything was locked. Well, except for the balcony doors, but she had opened those.”

Had they checked the attic? The basement? He was there in the parlour windows, and the next, he was at the bottom of the stairs, close to the front door. You refused to believe he had came in easily, as if he had apparated in.

“The door she claimed the assailant kicked showed no damage whatsoever.”

That was impossible. You had heard it. You watched it shake as he demanded entry. You had felt it, the vibrations from his heavy boots passing through the floorboards. If there were no marked footprints, there should’ve been at least a splinter in the wood.

“We’ve received complaints like these before regarding the Rogers’ house, but we can’t really do anything when there’s no evidence. A ‘ghostly’ touch on the ankle can’t be taken as evidence.”

And just like that, your case was dismissed. Your encounter, taken with a grain of salt. Your experience, dismissed as a mere ghostly tale.

You had almost wanted to show them the purples around your neck. To take off the makeup and show them, to pass them off as evidence of an assault. But with no recollection of the event, and no solid evidence, you refrained. It would only backfire; not only towards you, but towards Sam as well.

“Thank you, officers. For all your help, but we can handle it from here.”

It was a long night and it ended when the officers had left. They had searched your house, taken your statement, and calmed you down. They were polite enough, listening when you recounted your harrowing experience, giving you comfort in the form of a shock blanket. However, their quick dismissal left a sour aftertaste within you. The disheartening feeling of being seen as a hysterical woman.

You only had Sam who believed. You hoped he did.

“Sam, you believe me... right?”

“Of course, baby. Of course.”

Too shook up after last night’s incident, sleep evaded you until the wee hours of the morning, all the while curled up next to your saviour. He had soothed you, a protective arm at all times, giving you time. He never left your side throughout the night.

Now, huddled under the warm comforter of your guest room, you played last night’s events on loop. Heart palpating by even the sight of your bedroom door, Sam had decided a switch was in order.

At the end of the bed, Peaches laid in a white loaf by your feet, softly purring. She was a comforting presence, the heavy weight a reminder you weren’t alone. A guardian angel in her own way.

The day came and went faster than you could register.

In the morning, Wanda had came by with Vis to check up on you. She was worried after your abrupt goodbye on the phone and she was right to be. You missed their visit, being at the forefront of sleep. The warm serving of Paprikash you had for lunch was the sole indication of her visit.

Tony and Pepper had called and sent a large bouquet of colourful assortments with a ‘get well soon’ card attached right to your doorstep. They had heard from Sam, who had taken the duty of taking messages and answering your calls for you, citing your need for rest. Both had expressed the desire to visit, unfortunately corporate obligation had swamped them both.

In the late afternoon, Sam had came in with snacks in bed to soothe your cravings before dinner. He had prepared a few biscuits and fruits and made the grand gesture of feeding you with grapes.

“Some folks in the area actually came by to give these to you,” Sam said, shooing a hissing Peaches off the bed. Those two will never get along. “A Mrs Proctor and her grandkid, said you’ve met before at her shop. Seems like you’ve been making friends.”

You hummed, confirming the information. It’s been a while, yet you still remembered your little visit and the incident. Warm, welcoming grandmother and her sour, distrustful grandchild. But after your harrowing experience, you came to realize maybe the teen had known something; it wasn’t just a tale told to scare teenagers off the property on Halloween.

If the both of them knew, then the whole neighbourhood knew. It isn’t a secret when the local police visited you in the middle of the night. Word always traveled fast in small neighbourhoods.

“She sent her regards and hope you’ll come visit soon,” he continued. “Her grandkid told me to relay a message to you too.”

You eyed him, prompting him to resume.

“She said ‘all the best’.”

There was no help coming for you.

—

As the Sun slowly descended into the horizon, you received your last visitor at the end of the day. He came to the house while you were in the bath, finally having the energy to rid off the grime from the last horror.

You scrubbed your skin until it felt raw, the stinging a reminder to stop. You watched as the water swirled down the drain, bringing with it the impurities of the previous night.

You began dressing, the dark turtleneck a warm choice against frigid Autumn. Wiping the fogged up mirror, you stared at your reflection, observing your state. Your skin was deadly pale with dark rings concentrated beneath your eyes; a perfect representation of a troubled person.

Carefully rolling down the collar, you gently thumbed the delicate skin of your neck. What was once a large bruise had shrunk, covering you in patches. They were now a faded purple with a tint of green; a sign of healing.

They disgust you.

Your stomach churned looking at them. They were a reminder of a fog: thick, dense, a swallower of memories. You stared at them hard, racking your mind for a smidge of something, for anything. The longer it took, the uglier they became.

You unconsciously wrapped a hand around your neck, covering the ugly bruises from sight. It felt familiar, yet foreign. Slowly, you began putting pressure, firmly squeezing the sides. You felt an amounting rush.

You sat yourself on the opened toilet seat, back resting against the body. With the unoccupied hand, you hastily pushed your skirt and underwear aside. You worked yourself, rubbing your clit and running fingers down your lower lips, spreading your gathering slick. You let your mind stray away, forgetting the upsetting contusions, driven by only pleasure.

Mewling, you pleasured yourself, knees in the air. More and more, you squeezed thoughtlessly, cutting your airways to chase that building pleasure. You let your imagination wander; visualizing thicker fingers spearing you and heavier palms circling your throat. Intermittently you’d pull out, slapping your cunt while envisioning rough digits handling you. You didn’t envision the physique of anyone, just the feel of a touch. They were familiar, kept in the back of your mind like a hidden memory. You were sure they were not that of your boyfriend.

You were becoming dizzy, high off adrenaline from your asphyxiation. Nearing the tipping point, you quickened your ministrations until you finally snapped. Your thighs quivered as you came crashing, gasping for oxygen as you released your hold. Slick painted your thighs as they trembled. Eyes brimming with tears, you eyed yourself in the opposite mirror. You sighed, lost in blissful delirium; the sound of a woman spent.

Your bliss was short-lived when a knock came on the bathroom door.

“Baby, you okay in there? Your landlord came by for a visit, he just left.”

The tenor of Sam’s voice startled you, grounding you back to reality. You sprung up, adjusting your clothes and making yourself seem proper. Thighs still shaky, your legs felt like putty as you tried to stand up.

“In a minute!” you respond.

When you’ve deemed yourself decent enough, you opened the door. Sam’s toothy smile greeted you.

“My girl’s lookin’ all fresh and smellin’ beautiful,” he whistled.

“That’s silly,” you laughed, hitting his chest. Sam grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your lips.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Feeling slightly better.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t closer to the truth either. “Being taken care of really did wonders, I want this to last forever,” you kissed him again. “Just the two of us.”

“I’d love that as well.”

It was quiet for a time, the both of you lost in a peaceful bliss. Foreheads touching, you both focused on the moment; taking in the scent of your partner, hearing the beat of each other’s heart, and overall enjoying being in the other’s company. If given, you would prefer to stay like this forever. The beating of his heart, it grounded you. This was your safe place.

Minutes passed and you were both still locked in each other. It took a sudden loud thump in the ceiling for you two to part.

THUD!

You quickly jumped away, horribly spooked. You were on high alert, fidgety, and distraught. The loud noise triggered your flight or fight, leaving you frantically searching for the source.

“Look at me, look at me,” Sam called your name. He grabbed your shoulders, rubbing your forearms in soothing circles. “You’re fine. Breath, you’re fine. I’m here.”

Sam guided your breathing and you followed his rhythm. After a while, you were calmed once more. It was obvious you were still spooked, a second thud confirmed it when you shot up at the sound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam’s soothing voice cooed. “Would it make you feel better if I checked?”

You frantically nodded. Sam hastily strided through the hall with you close behind. He pulled the attic hatch but it wouldn’t open.

“It’s stuck.”

Sam tried again, giving it a pull a few times. On the strongest pull, it finally relented, revealing the ladder. As it slid down, a large heavy object came tumbling along with it, thudding by your feet. Sam picked it up and upon closer inspection it was an album. The word “Memories” greeted you; it was the photo album you had found a week earlier. You felt a cold run through you.

“Now, what do we have here.”

He flipped through, stopping on the wedding photo of Mr Rogers and his wife, their fading faces smiling at you. Photos of their vacations, anniversaries, and holidays passed.

“Seems that he had a fulfilling life.”

Sam continued flipping before stopping on an older photograph. It showed a younger Mr Rogers and a brunette man with his arm slung over the shorter blonde. You immediately paled, recognizing this man. The same hair colour, except shorter. The same steel blue eyes, except brighter. The same chiselled cleft chin.

It was no doubt, this man was your intruder .

You felt the temperature plunge upon your realization; wondering why he had seemed familiar. Panic began to consume you as Sam continued to flip through, the blue eyes in each photo seeming more sinister than the last, haunting your subconscious.

Sam stopped when he noticed your trembling. Your eyes were glassy as you stared at the photo of the brunette decked in a peacoat.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, worried.

“T-this man,” you pointed to the photo. “It was him last night.”

“Are you sure?” Sam closed the album, giving you a concerning gaze. “Do you need to lay down?”

How dare he. He didn’t believe you. After everything, was it all pity?

“Yes, I’m freaking sure!” you shouted, tears spilling over. “And I do not need to lay down, Sam. I’m perfectly fine.”

It was tense from there. None of you spoke for a while. You could see a shine of regret reflected in his orbs, softening your anger by bit. Despite his reserved apprehension, he had saved and later, attended to you. He didn’t deserve your fury.

“I-I’m sorry for shouting, but why would I lie about this Sam?” you sighed. You were tired. “I don’t know who he is or if he’s even alive. I’ve never met him, but it seems like my landlord has.”

“Do you want to see him? Tomorrow?” Sam asked. “I can arrange it.”

“Yes, please,” you pleaded, giving him an empty smile. “Ghosts or not, I need answers.”

“Okay,” he slipped the album beneath his arm. “Let me check the attic first.”

Sam had checked every corner twice before climbing down. There was nothing unusual, saved for the coincidental album.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖

The wet concrete was a hazard as you exited the car. Fall brought in cold winds as well as the small drizzles and showers here and there. The smell of rain mixed in with mud was high as you and Sam took deliberate steps on the pavement.

The mailbox was a rusted red with ‘Rogers’ scrawled in white, the lawn an immaculate green spread that showed its upkeep. Opposed to the grandeur and foreboding nature of your rental, Mr Rogers’ abode was a small little thing. It looked old and worn, with a browning chimney and paint chipping off its sides.

You rang the doorbell and waited. Soon, Mr Rogers greeted you and welcomed you both in.

“Come in, come in. Make yourselves comfy, it’s not much but it’s home.” he ushered in. “Please, take a seat. I’m making some tea in the kitchen. It won’t be long.” Mr Rogers disappeared, leaving you and Sam time in his living room.

Similar to the exterior, the interior was just as worn, with the lumpy couches and yellow staining the ceiling. This house had seen better days but you couldn’t deny the certain charm. Off to the side of the living room, a fireplace stood, its mantle littered with framed photographs. You took a step closer to observe them.

There were many photos of Mr Rogers with his wife, but there were equally the same amount with that of this elusive ‘James Barnes’. All of them were of the brunette with shorter hair, clean shaven, and lean; a contrast of the man who had grabbed you. A feature that stood out were his eyes. They looked hopeful and bright in these, the opposite of what you’ve seen. You shivered at the memory of locking with them through many mirrors.

“I hope you’re both fine with regular black tea.” The older man came in, carrying a tray of bone china tea set and finger sandwiches. He poured you each a cup, placing them on the coffee table.

“It’s more than fine, sir,” Sam took a cup. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

It was quiet for a moment with everyone sipping their tea. You sat beside Sam on the lumpy couch to the opposite of the older gentleman. You didn’t know where to start.

“I heard of what happened,” Mr Rogers started to your relief. “Officers Matthews and McCray phoned me in the morning. They’re probably exasperated, those two. Always getting calls about my house.”

“Enough about that, I should be asking you about your well-being. How are you doing, dear?” he asked, giving you a forlorn expression.

The blues of his eyes began to change, taking on a much more steely quality. His platinum strands darkened and lengthened, becoming dull and greasy. His frail body began bulking and doubling in size. The wrinkles of his skin disappeared, pulling taut over his cheekbones.

He was morphing, taking on the figure that haunts you.

In his place was your monster.

A nudge surprised you, pulling you away. The face of your nightmare nowhere, Mr Rogers remained in his armchair.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam shook you, concerned. “We lost you for a minute there.”

“Um, yeah.”

You looked at him, eyes vacant. You turned towards the older man, he gave you the same look of concern.

“It’s nothing, just thought I— Sorry, it’s nothing.” you gave a nervous chuckle.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Mr Rogers asked, refilling your cup. “I know this is far from just a friendly visit. From my experience with past tenants, I understand if you want to leave. And don’t you worry about the deposit, I’ll give a full refund. It’s the least I could do.”

Relief filled your chest at hearing those words. This wasn’t what you had come here for, but it was a welcomed balm to your already tumultuous mind. It was one less thing to worry about.

“Thank you, Mr Rogers,” you said. “But that’s not actually what we’re here for.”

Signalling towards Sam, he uncovered the photo album from a canvas bag. You took it and carefully set it on the coffee table, spreading it open to a portrait of a brunette soldier.

“We’re sorry for bringing this here, but it dropped from the attic when we opened the hatch,” Sam explained.

You watched as the elder’s fingers ghosted over the lettering of the man’s name; James Buchanan Barnes . They were light, careful, afraid of ruining the piece of antiquity.

“Mr Rogers, can you tell us a bit about this man?” you asked, desperate for answers. “Were the two of you friends?”

It took a while before he answered, eyes never taking off the photo.

“Bucky was my best friend. We grew up together in Brooklyn and he always had my back. Though, he was always neckin’ with a dame once in a while,” he mirthlessly chuckled. “He was always there.”

“When my ma contracted TB and passed, Bucky always helped. Late on the rent? He’ll cover it for ya. Low on food? He can cook.”

He flipped through the album, recounting every tale that came with a photo and you let him. This was a man who missed his youth, left for only time to claim.

He recited how they went to Connie Island and how he threw up after riding the Cyclone. The many dance hall dates that left him for his friend. The many tales of how ‘Bucky’ had saved his butt in alley fights. The war they spent together fighting in Europe, defeating Nazi base after Nazi base. The war where he returned the favour of becoming ‘Bucky’s’ saviour.

“Bucky was all I had.”

He stopped at the last page, where a photo of them in uniform in the snowy mountains stood.

“What happened to him?” Sam asked.

A long stretch of silence filled between the three of you, not readying you for the answer you were to receive.

“He died. Fell off a train in the Alps. I never saw him again.”

And it was back to silence. A beat or two passed.

“What’s this sudden interest in him?” the elder man asked, accompanied by a mirthless chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d be reciting his tale again after so long.”

You flipped the pages back to the portrait, stomach becoming queasy as you prepared to tell your tale.

“This man,” you paused, pointing at the photo. “He’s the one that came into the house the other night.”

“How…? Are you sure?” Mr Rogers’ breath hitched. “He’s been long gone for 75 years.”

“We’re not sure how,” you started. “But I have a theory.”

Sam handed you a flimsy folder. You opened it, taking out clipped pieces of paper. Most of them were screenshots of blog posts from previous tenants, recounting their part of the story living in your current residence. There was a similarity in their retellings that you noticed.

“These are some of the blog posts I managed to find on the house.” You arranged the papers on the coffee table, making them face the elderly man. “Sorry to sprung these on you, but I noticed a consistency in the hauntings that tenants before me have experienced.”

“Go on.”

You let out a breath before continuing, ”In each of the stories, everyone has said that they’ve seen an apparition of a man.”

You pointed to the highlighted texts, their descriptions of an encounter similar.

“Sometimes in an army uniform.”

You turned to the portrait film of ‘Bucky’ in his World War II uniform.

“And sometimes in a blue coat.”

You flipped to the photo of Mr Rogers and ‘Bucky’ on the Alps. It was too good of a coincidence.

“So, what you’re saying,” Mr Rogers put two and two. “Maybe it’s his spirit that has been haunting the house all along.”

“That’s a way to put it,” you confirmed.

He seemed to still be taking it all in. A conflicted expression on his face, full of sadness and worry. Minutes passed and everyone started to move on, with the elder steering the conversation away. You thought it would take time for him, after the sudden resurgence and recalling of a traumatic past. You thought he would have more questions. But he surprised you and Sam by bouncing back, carrying the conversation with the fond memories of his past. It seemed a bit odd, but you put it behind you.

The both of you ended up staying over for dinner.

“Won’t you keep an old man company? It can be quite lonely since I don’t have kids of my own.”

The evening flew faster, with Sam and Mr Rogers exchanging military stories over plates of spaghetti. They bonded over their shared experience, with you chiming in questions once in a while. You looked on in fondness, enjoying the time spent. Maybe you could do it again.

When it came time to leave, you both thanked Mr Rogers for his hospitality. You slipped him an invitation to have a meal at the house some time. However, before you could leave, the elder stopped you, a hand gripping your shoulder.

“Sorry dear, I needed to know. This theory of yours,” he said, forehead creasing. “You don’t believe in them, do you?”

You were caught in surprise by his sudden line of questioning, having thought of already getting past it. Nevertheless, you answered.

“Maybe I’m starting to have a change of thought.”

And finally, you were no longer in denial.

A/N: Next up: The Witch’s Visit

#sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x you #bucky barnes x you #sam wilson x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #dark fic #tw: injuries #ghost bucky #marvel reader-insert #marvel fanfiction #horror #thriller

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