#//But it's not always that the resemblance gets this daunting and uncanny

[dutybcrne]

Sometimes Kaeya loathes to look at Diluc, growing so sick to his gut at a mere glance. Some days Kaeya can hardly stand to look at him, to the point of avoiding him each and every way he can, subtleties and dignity be damned.

Because some days, all Kaeya can see is the very spitting image of Crepus in him.

[keiskake]

your prayers have been heard (chapter two - hawks)

takami keigo x quirkless f!reader (au chilhood friends // characters are aged up 21+) (red = hawks' pov)

warnings ~ hawks being flirty + pet names, swearing, spoilers about hawks’ backstory from the anime

wordcount ~ 1.350k

summary ~ you and takami keigo grew up together in a shitty hut with terrible parents. he disappeared one day when you were 6, but he never left your mind. the heavens entwined your destinies together, but it’s not a smooth jurney you soon figure out. 

a/n ~ i planned the rest of this series out and i’m so excited to upload each chapter for you guys to read. again no set schedule as i tend to drift off into other little projects, but it will be one chapter a week minimum. thank you for reading, reblogs +likes are always appreciated. <3

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you stretched with the morning sunrise, it beamed at your bed hair and drool on the side of your mouth. 7:00am, time for work. you pulled over a white shirt, adjusted your black skirt and threw on a pair of black tights. you did the usual, brushing your teeth, washing your face, grabbing your shit in a bag and putting your shoes on. you always wore your crimson red feather clip, it was your favourite part of the morning. and like that you headed out for another day of work.

you didn’t particularly enjoy working at the café, though you didn’t hate it either. you liked the company of customers and their kindness. “goodmorning y/n”, “how are you this morning dear?”, “the usual please, you always do it right.” you liked making people’s morning with a good coffee. but of course working there was just a way to ensure you and your mom never had to live a life of struggles again. the idea daunted you, and became your motivation to go the extra mile for tips or a raise. 

you walked through the city for a change, only due to the fact you were early that morning. when it wasn’t bustling with cars or flashing with city lights it was peaceful and serenading. gentle morning breezes and an illuminating sun watching over everyone in the city, it was beautiful. vendors and shops are starting to open, weekends are always the busiest of days. you glance around, watching the florist display the newest bouquet, greeting the family of bakers that owned the local cake shop and stopping at a toy store. 

outside that toy store was a basket. a basket of endeavour plushies. the same one you had. the same one kei had. it drew your attention away from the rest of the world. it sucked in the sunshine smile you had on your face moments before encountering the plushies. kei. that’s what it made you think about. it infiltrated your head with thoughts of kei. you reminisce of your friend, lifting the plushie to your face to get a better look. it hurt. you knew it did. there wasn’t a time where thinking about him was easy, but the ache in your heart grew. daggers to your heart. yes, that’s what it was.

you looked left, another basket. a hero you hadn’t seen before. you looked at it closely, crimson red wings, golden hair and eyes. the resemblance was so very similar to kei. but kei a hero? you were very much doubtful that would’ve happened. you were already doubtful to the idea that he was even alive. “you like that one young lady?” the shopkeeper prompted. you didn’t realise you were staring so much or for so long. “not like but...” you trail off “who is he?”. your eyes widened, glimpses of hope shot through your pupils. “number 2 hero, hawks!”. the hope diminished hearing the name ‘hawks’ and not keigo, your smile becoming dim. you thanked the shop keeper and returned the endeavour plushie back in its basket. 

you kept walking, heading in the direction of the café. you passed a billboard on the shopping centre, and there he is again. ‘hawks’. the resemblance was uncanny to you, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up anymore. you reasoned with yourself to stay sensible in your thoughts and kept walking. your ideas and theories wouldn’t settle, the walk to work wasn’t quiet, though the world around you was.

you heard sounds of praise and cheer coming from behind you. “omg it’s hawks!”, “look, look number two!”. ‘hawks’? your curiosity got the better of you, per usual, and you turned to look at the commotion. the sky was magnificent. a beautiful bird soaring through the sky, wind brushing through its wings and the sun engulfing his presence. he was free, not prisoned by any shackles you thought. kei would’ve liked that. 

next to hawks was tokoyami, a UA student doing his work study at hawks’ agency. they complimented each other well. like light and dark, the sun and moon. kei and you. you smiled, being blessed with such a sight so early in your day.

you stopped mid flight, wings stretched out. you signal for tokoyami to patrol up ahead a few blocks in front. a man was crawling towards a cute girl in a black mini skirt. he put his arm out trying to snatch her bag, but you couldn’t let that happened now could you? you’re fuckin’ hawks. you command your fierce wings to pin the man to the floor as you swoop down to land. hands in your pockets, you walk towards the pathetic ‘villain’ on the ground and press your face closely against his. “now that’s not very gentleman like y’know? trying to take this cute little bird’s bag. run along before i call the police.” your gaze darkened, a death glare almost. he scrambled to get up and leave the area. you waved and grinned, turning around to face the cutest bird you had every seen. you'd see many cute fangirls before, but she took your breath away. you didn't have anything to say, and you always have something to say.

you were in absolute awe. hawks. number 2 hero. saving you?! 

your heart stopped and your palms got sweaty. you tried to look away, but his eyes were mesmerising. it drew you in. the golden horizon was a view to die for. he chuckles, “hey beautiful, gonna stare at me all day. i know i’m good looking and all but take a good look at yourself.” you got all flustered and bothered by the comment, fidgeting with your hair to avoid any further embarrassment. his eyes weren’t just beautiful, they were like kei’s. the thought of kei and ‘hawks’ being one in the same kept crossing your mind. you were unsure, and making an assumption didn’t seem to be the best idea.

“s-sorry! thank you for uhm saving me, hero.” you bowed your head in thanks, turning your heel to get going to work. but it caught his eye. your hairclip. it made his feathers tingle. he grabs your arm and pulls you towards him, face so close to one another. his lips were so close, one wrong move and you’d kiss. the image made you bright red, shaking you to the core. with his free hand he brushed a fingers against the clip. “pretty clip baby bird, where’d ya’ get it?”. he smiled softly, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. 

“a friend! an old childhood friend!”. your voice hitched. the mix of shyness from the contact you had just had and the ideas of ‘hawks’ being kei made you uneasy. “how cute, had a friend once. dunno where she is though.” he giggled, tilting his head to the side and staring at your clip once again. “say sweetheart, i’m drawn to you, it’s like you’re calling my name y’know.” he steps in your direction again, cupping your cheek with a hand and the other hand pulling out a piece of paper that he slips into your bag. “wanna thank me? call me sometime baby bird, i’ll make time for you.” 

he takes his hand away from your face, propping his wings out and taking to the sky once more. he beams another sly smile and stares into your eyes again. bewitched at his fair golden gaze. he waves goodbye and swoops off into the sky. he looks so at home up there. you compose yourself and run the rest of the way to work, realising all the commotion had taken up a great deal of time. but you can’t think straight. it’s jumbled up. you felt attracted to hawks, all that close contact made you feel knots in your stomach. but the idea of hawks and kei being related or even the same shadowed your mind. 

you wanted to figure this whole mess out. you wanted a peace of mind. thinking about kei was more than a handful already. you had to know.

who is ‘hawks’?

[americanblossom]

starter call 🍒     @legacysouls / archie andrews.

❝   why  is  it,  that  i  always  find  myself  with  you,  archie  andrews  when  i’m  at  my  lowest  ?  ❞  the  demise  of  her  twin  brother  ,  it  was  something  she  could  never  fathom  getting  over.  ❝  i  don’t  need  you  to  be  the  hero  of  this  one  ,  andrews.  ❞  with  the  roll  of  her  version.  it  was  often  daunting  how  archie  always  showed  some  resemblance  of  jason.  the  way  he  ran  out  onto  the  football  field  ,  to  the  letterman  jacket  he  always  wore  .  the  uncanny  crimson  red  hair.  ❝  did  betty  send  you  over  here  ?  because  if  she  did  ,  you  can  tell  her  if  she  wants  to  talk  to  moi  ,  she  can  do  it  herself.  ❞

[anthonybialy]

Customer Disservice

It’s easier to list presently pleasant experiences.  You’ll have ample time to rattle them off while waiting eternally for your fries.  Being hungry for dinner by the time you get your lunch counts as fasting.

Customer service sucks if you’re lucky enough to locate something to buy.  Making you care less about purchases is just another way our times relieve you of burdens like possessing too many items to dust.

The goal of toiling as little as possible is as natural to humans as consuming more calories than are necessary.  But life’s cruelty is unavoidable.  You’ll only exacerbate welts if you try to dodge.  Seeing work not as a way to advance but as a method to get compensated for nothing shows government’s influence.  Boasting of an effort so slight that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez would tell you to get to work is not leading to advancement for individuals or society.  Hunter Biden is this generation’s standard for exertion in the pursuit of fortune.  

Expecting payment shouldn’t be connected to anything like completed work responsibilities.  The president says you’re entitled to all the money you can stuff in your pockets while forking none of it over for anything you want.  Retailers who expect compensation in return for what they provide are the greedy ones.  A certain gang of politicians is always promising something in exchange for nothing.  The same mafia capos struggle to determine why the economy is poor.

Zombie movies are such a part of culture that you can reenact them by patronizing any restaurant.  Employing fewer workers than are necessary to address matters is a staffing decision made by politicians.  They told more help to arrive, which explains why getting someone to prepare a meal is presently as daunting as a DMV visit.

Minimum wage spikes are accompanied by encouragement to exert the minimum effort.  The only way to get more cash is to make it worthless, so thank Joe Biden for the cruel but necessary life lesson.  Blame businesses coping with preposterous incursions to pass the exam.

You’re totally not expected to comply with constantly getting asked to hand over more than the price.  You’ll just be shunned if you do.  Not contributing is going to cost you a dirty look.  Tipping is supposed to be a reward for service.  It’s now an expected custom from those who vilify anyone who makes more as materialistic.  Don’t you want baristas to make a living wage?  Prepare for a guilt trip to the waiting counter regardless of provided value or liberal beliefs in action hiking that very standard.

A gratuity to the ungrateful is compounded by extraneousness.  Leaving extra is for specific jobs whose pay structure is based on getting a little more.  The only other place to leave extra money is on Substack.  Other than that, the good and decent universal value of tipping bartenders differs entirely from the embodiment to entitlement seen in professional panhandling on every counter.

It’s uncanny how unhappy people seem after they get every last thing provided for them.  Government gave you enough to cover your bills then told you there’s no need to pay them, which should have made every American independently wealthy.  We’re just one executive order commanding groceries to be affordable short.  Bitching about focusing on finances as loafers attempt to evade the process of exchange has left everyone with nothing.

The internet enables instant communication where you can be treated rudely by a company that took your funds.  A rather popular communications medium resembles the way lies about Florida’s secret plan to re-establish slavery get spread instantaneously without verification.  The best and worst thing about social media is that people present themselves without a filter.  The way the indifferent service gets used is what’s important, which creates common ground for the First and Second Amendments.

Hearkening to days of yore comes naturally when days of now eat it hard.  It’s not to praise everything that happened before internet flowed through the ether.  But these glorious advanced days truly eat it thanks to deploying daft policies discredited in the olden times.

Scoffing at your choice between a bag of groceries or enough fuel to reach the outpost to acquire them is the sort of smug reply expected from Biden cultists who think working at some corporation is a menial task unworthy of their useless abilities.  You may have received better service before governmental protections made performing a job’s task.  That was in the golden time before butter was a luxury.

Refusing to give a damn is particularly unfortunate when every productive shift is respectable.  Moving past the days of mocking service workers is a victory for dignity.  A Full Monty reboot still based on the shame of working at a department store blessedly disappeared from public consciousness quickly, and not only because finding one open is as as tough as obtaining affordable food.

It’s a shame when shame seemed on its way out.  The culturally snotty attribute of decreeing oneself to be above certain tasks drags everyone below.  There’s precisely nothing wrong with working at Walmart in order to provide for a family or even just oneself.  Decent people mocked as rudely brain dead for running a fast food register is particularly rich from indebted art history majors who count as high as one useless degree.

Holding expectations without providing is the type of evasiveness that should be discouraged in first-graders.  A White House dedicated to paying people without working inspires surliness amongst those who technically show up.  It doesn’t seem like anyone in the executive branch is there until 5 p.m.  More important jobs remain understaffed, which is to say all of them.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 7  ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.  

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos​. 

||||||||||||||||

You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

 Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat. 

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness. 

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it. 

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.   

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around. 

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up. 

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks. 

 Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state. 

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

 It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned. 

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right? 

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right? 

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour. 

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

 During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message. 

 [birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

 The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself. 

 [you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

 You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all. 

 [you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny 

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

 There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

 [birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

 You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

 [you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos 

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

 It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

             ...

 Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took. 

Maybe he even wanted to. 

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

 You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID. 

 [birdboy] calling...

 Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line. 

“Yes.” 

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call. 

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

 Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped. 

It didn’t have to.

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual. 

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

 Keigo did too, notably. 

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof. 

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all. 

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected. 

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice. 

 You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony. 

Oh my god. 

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches. 

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal? 

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen. 

 Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few. 

Your home was the exact opposite. 

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter. 

 You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.” 

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge. 

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance. 

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg. 

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back. 

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him. 

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile. 

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close. 

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own. 

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

 Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you. 

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe. 

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke. 

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon. 

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating. 

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened. 

 You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?” 

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

 Keigo hadn’t either. 

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks. 

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap. 

 …

 His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

 You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs. 

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

 Do what exactly?

 The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

 You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up. 

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped. 

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N). 

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

 “You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks. 

 “It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?” 

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

 “Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression. 

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

 “Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

 He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful. 

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

 Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes. 

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.” 

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer. 

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—” 

“(Y/N).”

 Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

 Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions. 

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

 The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him. 

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply. 

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention. 

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull. 

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

 “It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move. 

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer. 

You braced for the worst. 

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it. 

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

 Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once. 

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly. 

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to. 

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home. 

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.  

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly. 

||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

[ly-sona]

[❀] ❝ graffiti 。jake ❞

❀ pair: jake x fem!oc ❀ genres: angst, fluff (minor) ❀ au: college student ❀ warnings: language, insecurities, please tell me if i need to add more! ❀ word count: 3, 427 (unedited) ❀ status: completed all she wanted to do was spray some graffiti, but he was there to stop her.

──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the full moon contrasted the dark shadows within the cityscapes of seoul. every human, although there were little to none, flocked away from the ominous, pitch-black spaces, as if repelled by a magnet.

no soul moved toward the alleyways. no noise came from the suspicious nooks and crannies. it was as normal, dark, and daunting as the uncanny time usually was.

after all, it was three in the morning.

yet, one average-built girl only stood in the shadows.

unlike the others, she avoided the lights. unlike the others, she ventured bravely down the streets and through the narrow passageways. her face was covered by a plain, black mask, leaving only her narrow monolid eyes visible under the stars. her body was shielded from the cold, harsh winter breeze with a thick black sherpa jacket. she had piled on layers and layers to protect herself from the chilling weather.

as always, she was prepared.

most people would wonder what she was doing all alone at three in the morning, especially in a big city such as seoul.

if she was going to be honest, she didn’t know where she was going either. her strides were confident yet unbound. she could follow the stars all day until they led her on the right path.

the violent vibration of her phone distracts her for a short moment. her phone screen illuminates, showcasing a picture of her and her younger brother—the prodigy dancer, nishimura riki.

she loved her brother. she knew that. yet, she couldn’t help but feel envious of the popularity his talents got him. sometimes, she wanted to scream to the world who she was.

i, nishimura yua, am not talentless.

why she’s out in the middle of seoul late at night may just be her healthiest way to relinquish all the anger. the last thing she’d ever want was to lash out at the people she was closest to. so, she let it out the only way she knew how.

her strong footsteps finally came to a stop in the middle of a dark, empty alleyway. the bricks seemed to be worn out. remains of poorly removed paint were scattered across the expansive wall, etching a smile to her face.

the heavy black duffel bag slipped from her shoulders, thumping against the floor as yua closed her eyes. she tuned out of her vision, focusing on the smells and noises around her.

silence. save for the occasional drunken footsteps of college students going home or the patters of the small cockroaches that littered the street, all that stayed constant was silence. all she could smell was the grimes of oils from the restaurants surrounding her.

it was another normal night in the city.

humming to herself, she finally opened her eyes to the night sky, ready to get to work.

black. blue. yellow.

one by one, she picked up each bottle of spray paint, enjoying the feel of the chilling material and the perfect in her grip.

this was her comfort zone—lawless, expressive art.

taking the black paint, she once again faced the wall. she lifted up her palm. she pressed down on the plastic button, listening to the sound of a spray refreshing her ears. her movements were nimble and quick—confident, as if dancing to the brightest of songs.

she shook, sprayed, painted, cleaned, and repeated each action, getting drowned within the smell of strong paint fumes that addicted her to end.

she didn’t know how much time had passed, but the astounding sight of ballet shoes drenched in a dark black resemblant to oil graced her eyes when she finally finished.

“perfect,” she whispered unconsciously, voicing her thoughts to the deaf city skies.

her heart felt lighter. her face was brighter and exposed to the fresh air, mask now discarded. her fingers felt heavy holding the cans of paint within the calloused fingers, and at that moment, she knew she was done.

so, she put everything away just as fast.

“nishimura yua!”

the voice was familiar, accented in a way she’d never forget. the smooth flow of the thin voice, especially in that town, was one she’d grown accustomed to.

so, she didn’t know why she was surprised at that moment.

yua pretended to not hear him, continuing to pack up her things in hope that he’d just leave. once again, her attempts fruitless as expected.

“yua! i know you can hear me!”

“what was that? is there a ghost?” she feigned, looking everywhere but in his direction as she picked up her backpack.

her heart raced as his light, athletic paces grew more audible, signifying that he was running straight to her.

when she felt the strong palms shake her shoulders, she knew there was no getting out of this.

“yua...” he started, taking a breath. “i told you not to run off like that, didn’t i? we were all so worried.”

the worry she could clearly hear in her best friend’s voice instilled guilt within her, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much she tried to ignore.

“i’m sorry,” yua mumbled, willing herself to turn around and look her best friend in the face. “it was suffocating, that’s all.”

finally, yua looked up to him. his puppy-like face struck her in the heart despite the darkness of the night. no matter what, he would always be worried.

“you don’t have to apologize, yua. you’re an adult. like i said, we were worried. that’s all.”

“thanks, jake.”

“no need to thank me—all i did was look for you.”

yua shook her head. “no, i’m not thanking you for that, idiot,” she started, smacking his shoulder before moving to stand right beside him. as always, he took her bag—an unspoken rule that yua didn’t have the energy to fight after the first few times. “i’m thanking you for being worried. you’re always looking out for me.”

jake smiled, glancing down at the girl before ruffling her hair. “of course i would! i’m your best friend. i always will.”

yua narrowed her eyes, her hands unconsciously lifting up to fix her. she ignored the pang in her chest at his insistence of being a best friend, knowing she could do nothing about it. “you are way to kind for your own good. anyone else wouldn’t have even noticed i left.”

jake shrugged before quickly stopping her in her tracks. “right, i forgot...”

he moved behind her, combing her hair before pulling it up to a ponytail, placing the scrunchy at the top. “there. now you can drink the coffee without your hair getting in your mouth.”

yua’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite drink. “coffee?!”

jake laughed at her suddenly uplifted mood, watching as her eyes shifted around. from his bag, he pulls out the tumbler he had placed her cold coffee in, making sure none of it had spilled before placing it in her arms.

yua’s eyes only widened as she snatched and opened the lid. she slowly slipped, savoring the bitter, raw taste of the coffee—just the way she liked it.

jake watched as she truly smiled for the first time tonight. his lips tug upward unconsciously at the happy girl.

jake was the type who was always understanding. no matter how stupid yua’s decisions seemingly were, he would always try to understand her situation. he knew yua hated being hidden in the shadows when her talent for art was immense. and he knew she hated showing her desperation, her anger. jake knew her too well.

and he also knew that she knew him just as well.

the two of them were very close—ever since yua and riki moved to seoul for college. they naturally clicked.

“you’re the best, jake.”

“i know i am,” he joked, only for her to hit his shoulder again.

“stop hanging out with sunghoon so much! he’s influencing you,” yua complained, the joking tone evident throughout her voice.

“fine, fine. now let’s get you home before riki wakes up and gets worried, shall we?” jake says, placing his hand out in front of her.

yua places her right hand in his left, nodding her head. “that would probably be a good idea.”

with that, they took of in the night, both of them burden and worriless as they raced to get back before the hints of dusk rose.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

it had happened again.

even though she knew she would only worry everyone, yua couldn’t take it anymore.

once again, she was back in the exact same alleyway.

the clouds covered the sky, hiding the bright moon behind its dark sea. every few minutes, the sky would flash a pure white as the lightning struck earth.

she was frustrated. the petrichor, the booming clatters of rain drops smashing against some surface—the unusual ambiances distracted her from thinking, breathing, and living.

her clothes were drenched. her graffiti was ruined. the sky was so dark she could barely take a step to the right with confidence. she felt blinded. maybe she was blinded by her own naivety.

stupid yua, she thought.

the can in her hand clacked against the floor as it slipped from her grip. water stained her face, submerging her within raging emotions mirrored by the skies above her.

she watched as all the paint mixed together, destroying her only vent for emotions.

what did she even paint? she couldn’t remember.

once again, her dearest friends dismissed her talents, her love for art, in favor of someone else. and as much as she hated to admit it, it hurt.

she didn’t know if she was crying or if it was just the rain.

her body trembled—shivering from the sheer cold she was experiencing. her hands were frozen from the winter droplets that stormed her. she should run, take shelter.

she couldn’t bring herself to move.

do i really look so stupid? am i truly talentless?

she was her brother’s biggest supporter, and her brother was hers. yet, she was always the one hidden within the shadows of society.

slowly, yua’s hands desperately clutched her forehead. her fingers tangled through her wet hair, slamming against her scalp.

she was going insane.

she opened mouth, trying to let out a violent scream. silence. no sound left escaped her lips.

she choked on her own voice, and her mind was now desperate.

someone help me.

as if on cue, strong footsteps echoed through the alleyway—ones her mind refused to register.

they quickly stilled, the last sound echoing with the rain as the person glanced at yua.

yua.

jake was heartbroken when he saw her frozen in the rain, clutching her head as if in immense pain. it hurt to see that the girl he loved couldn’t appreciate herself.

yes, loved.

he’d loved her since they’d first met on the rooftop of their college. he could still remember her bright face as he complimented her work of art—a lonely girl bathing in the light of dawn. he could still remember her red face and extreme appreciation, and it had made him wonder if she never got compliments for such immense talent.

jake had known since then that he had to compliment her, no matter what. he would try his hardest to understand and appreciate every piece she created with her blessed hands, which eventually became a habit that seeped into their friendships. every moment they shared, he appreciated.

and they grew so close to where he would be there for her in the darkest voids of her emotions.

yua flinched when she felt the the raincoat surround her. she flinched as she felt the cold, familiar hands on her shoulders, slowly turning around.

at first, her mind was so jumbled she couldn’t recognize him. through glossy eyes and pools of water, she tried to look into his eyes. subconsciously, she knew she could trust him.

“it’s okay,” jake started, his accent once again flooding her ears. yua immediately relaxed before moving closer to him, sniffling from crying and the rain. “let’s get inside.”

without any thoughts in her head, she blindly followed her best friend, submerging her ruined shoes within the puddles of rain.

jake walked fast, firmly holding her right hand in his left as he tried to reach his house. he ignored the weird looks people gave him from inside different stores—scarce but still awake even in the extreme late night.

when they reached his apartment, he quickly guided her to a bathroom, placing the spare clothes she always had whenever she crashed here on top of the counter.

“go take a warm shower, okay?”

his voice was reassuring. his face was filled with hidden worry and relief, just as always whenever she did something like this.

although for once, yua was scared of her actions too.

yua nodded her head, dazed as she walked inside the familiar bathroom. her heart relaxed as scalding water warmed her, setting her mind in temporary ease. she’d slightly returned by the time she’d finished her shower, changing into her soft cotton pajamas before walking into the living room again.

when she stepped out, jake was sitting at his nook table with two steaming cups set out. he smiled at her, and she returned it, walking over to the table.

“hot chocolate since you hate hot coffee. is that good?”

“of course! thanks, jake.”

yua smiled as she took the first sip, snacking her lips together to savor the flavorful chocolate sweet delight. the warmth of the drink flowed to her heart, helping calm her down further and shield her from the raging storm of emotions.

they sat in silence for a few moments, just enjoying their time with each other.

then, she set her cup down, collecting her thoughts.

“i’m sorry i made you worried again…” she started, taking in a deep breath.

she waited for the inevitable soft scolding she was sure she would get. only, jake’s next words shocked her.

“you can do what you want yua—i can’t stop you.”

he settled down before reaching over to push a wet strand of hair behind her face. yua blushed as the close proximity. forcing herself to focus on his words instead of his actions, she willed her heartbeat to return to its steady pace compared to the wild, erratic beats.

“b-but i shouldn’t have just—“

“yes, maybe you shouldn’t have left so randomly like that. but, it was still a decision that you took. i can’t just-” he stopped his words, taking in a deep breath before remembering what he was trying to say. “next time, tell me when you want to leave. tell me when you want to go down to that old alleyway and paint out your frustrations.”

yua looked at him in confusion, wondering why he would want to know if it would only burden him more. “why?”

“because, i want to come with.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

unlike the other days, it was bright in the early morning. jake was extremely annoyed while a chirpy yua dragged him to the abandoned alleyway.

it had been a year since that rainy night, and yua had kept her promise to let him come with whenever she painted. however, today was different.

her smile was as bright as the morning sun that loomed above them. and as jake watched her, he couldn’t help but smile as well.

cute, he thought.

to him now, everything she did was cute. he found her tiny bounces when she was excited cute. he found her bright smiles when she did well on a test cute. he found her mild frustrations when trying to finish a project on time cute.

his best friend was the cutest human being he’s ever met.

even know, as she bounced up and down while setting up her supplies, he found her cute.

“for this one, i don’t want you to see it yet. not until i finish~”

jake was bewildered. “why?!”

yua cheekily smiled before pushing him to face the other way. “you’ll see soon~ i promise, okay?”

jake sighed, relenting and finding a comfortable spot to scroll the his phone.

as promised, yua didn’t take long at all. she had it all planned out.

her heart took over as she swayed her hands, making sure to paint everything correctly. she didn’t want to mess up such an important day.

she’d finally mustered up the courage to tell Jake how she felt.

maybe it was the way that he always took care of her. maybe it was how he never forced her to stop painting the walls of soul. maybe it was how he was always there for, even when she faced her harshest emotions. maybe it was his smile, his athleticism.

maybe it was everything.

but soon, her feelings only deepened. and she’d built up the courage to take the risk of ruining their friendship to try and further it to something more.

she’d poured her heart out in three simple words. hopefully, it was enough.

“jake?” yua called out thirty minutes later, placing her paint cans down before moving closer to her best friend.

hearing his name, he immediately put away his phone. “can i turn around now?”

“mmhmm!”

with a sigh, he turned around, slightly tired but also curious of what she wanted to show him.

when he looked at yua, he saw her nervousness. it confused him more.

why would she be nervous when she knows how much i like her work—

jake stopped breathing when he looked at the wall. his mind blanked, and his heart stopped.

written in bubble letters was a pink gradient of the words “I like you.”

his heart pounded, shocked by the sudden confession he wasn’t expecting.

he thought she’d never reciprocate his feelings.

yua was confused and slightly embarrassed by his silence, thinking that her confession would now make things awkward between her friend. she was sad—heartbroken.

“i-it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way! i just hope this changes nothing between u—”

yua’s words got cut off when she’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. she gasped as her breath hitched in her throat, and she froze in her spot.

“i like you too.”

her eyes widen as relief floods her body.

he likes me back.

she wraps her arms around him, tightening her grip and extreme content.

he likes me back.

she pulls away for a second, looking up at him to make sure it was real.

“actually? like you’re not joking or something or like pitying me or something are you?”

jake chuckles at her quick rambles, nodding his head. “i’ve liked you since that day on the rooftop, yua.”

she smiled before drowning herself in the hugs she loved so much.

he likes me back.

“it’s sad that i couldn’t confess first, though. so let me ask you.”

yua hummed in question, not sure what he meant. what does he want to ask her now?

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”

if she thought she was happy earlier, she couldn’t have been happier now.

“yes.”

“can i kiss you?”

yua closed her eyes, processing everything that was going on. this wasn’t a dream. it was truly happening.

“yes,” yua breathed.

and without another word, he pressed his lips to her, keeping his hands steady at her waist. yua wrapped her hands around his neck, smiling into the deep kiss.

he enjoyed the feeling of her soft lips on his, unwilling to pull back even after a minute or so passed. they both could barely breathe but couldn’t pull away from each other—like two magnets so powerfully connected they could barely be separated.

after what felt like hours despite merely being a minute, yua finally pulls back, staring at him.

“you’re my boyfriend now,” she spoke, breathless yet filled with an ecstatic emotion.

jake laughed at her, once again finding her bright, vibrant expressions endearing.

“and you’re my girlfriend.”

yua giggled at the words that she’d never imagined would escape his lips—especially directed to her.

the day she waited for was finally here—the day where she didn’t have to hope for more had come.

jake pointed to the art on the wall with a hint of pride. he was sure that it was the best confession someone could ever receive. he fell deeper for her within a day, like an endless quicksand he refused to leave.

“i’ll be bragging about that till the end of time.”

yua laughed, the noise tugging at the corners of jake’s lips, inching them upward. “oh, yeah? what will you tell people?”

“that my girlfriend confessed to me with a masterpiece of graffiti.”

unedited

finished—10/14/2021

a/n: i wrote this on a whim, so i hope you enjoy!

© All Rights Reserved

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 5

Summary: After experiencing a turbulent night, you wake up feeling oddly refreshed. You try to go about your day when your mind is clouded by other things.

A murmur of words. A flash of skin. Heated breaths. Swollen lips pressing against one another. A fire that ignited deep within you, a sweet pleasure waiting for its release. Rough hands on your bare torso, a gruff voice whispering in your ear…

Darlin’.

The sun shining through the blinds across your eyes awoke you from a deep, dream-filled slumber. You shifted slightly, only to realize your hand rested underneath your pajama pants. The intense burning had cooled to a dull ache. Did you really just…dream like that? About Arthur?

You sat up slowly, stretching out your stiff muscles. Last night felt surreal, the assault only seeming like a vague nightmare rather than a vivid memory. It certainly didn’t bother you like it did upon coming home last night. The only reminder was the empty mug sitting on your nightstand. Next to it, your clock flashed 9:30 am. It’d been a while since you’d slept in that late. You had to wonder, how long did Arthur stay after you’d passed out? You crossed your arms, fingers idly searching for the scrapes, though in your surprise, found nothing but smooth skin.

You blinked in confusion, staring down at your arms. No evidence of scrapes or scratches, not even scabs or redness to indicate healing. Maybe they weren’t as deep as you’d thought.

Your hand wandered to your temple, expecting to still find the soreness and swelling, only to find that had disappeared too. You frowned, wondering how the hell you healed that quickly. Schooling and simple logic told you it would be impossible.

You shook your head in defeat, knowing that trying to make sense of it would lead to only more questions to which you wouldn’t know the answer to. Unless Arthur somehow brewed an all-healing tea, like some sort of health potion in fantasy worlds, which would be, again, logically impossible.

Emitting a long sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. You grabbed the mug and headed out toward the kitchen.

Friday meant online work; which allowed you to relax in the comfort of your own home or the quiet, serene atmosphere of the library. But you also had work, which reminded you of the daunting task of having to speak to your boss about the night before. You could almost hear the conversation in your head; her demanding you take the matter to the police despite your constant protests.

Deciding to send a text rather than making a physical appearance, you let your boss know what was going on. Naturally, your phone blew up with multiple texts and eventually a call. You answered, albeit reluctantly, to have a thirty minute conversation about the details and trying to convince her you did not want to go to the police station and file a report. You hurriedly ended the conversation after that.

To keep your mind busy, you set yourself to making a nice breakfast. Your efforts proved fruitful; the savory-sweet smell of eggs, bacon and waffles filling your small apartment. You’d say yourself down and dug in, your mouth welcoming such a symphony of flavors that it almost seemed unreal. You’d always made breakfast the same way, yet somehow it seemed more…complex. Every ingredient was the same as you bought it, though you couldn’t quite figure out why it tasted different to you.

You’d left your apartment closer to noon, your backpack full of books and your laptop bag slung around your shoulder. Rather than hitting up the campus grounds, you decided to go to the local town library instead. As you walked along the dusty red paths of Rhodes, the thought of running into Tom again had briefly crossed your mind. Somehow though, you weren’t worried about it. Your mood was unexplainably heightened since waking up, and the last thing you wanted to do was dampen it.

Rhodes Town Library had loomed in the distance amongst the rows of houses and shops. It was a small, older building that was built in the 20’s. It certainly fit the more rustic part of town; buildings that had stood proud since the 1800’s. It only took you another moment to reach it, pushing open the heavy doors. The smell of must and old parchment was nearly overwhelming, though a welcome scent.

You settled at one of the tables close to one of the windows and got to work.

As time passed, you’d managed to make a sizable dent in your work. After about an hour and a half, you stood up to take a small break and stretch your legs. You began to wander aimlessly through the aisles. It wasn’t your first time here, though you weren’t too familiar with it. The college library was much bigger, although this place contained local history, and even had a couple of items and documents on display.

Your eyes wandered, observing the old photos, drawings, and newspaper clippings that decorated the walls. Topographic maps, photos of the mansions owned by rich families of the past, even one of Shady Belle. It was clear that much had happened since the town’s founding, even way before a university was built within it.

Creeping along the walls, everything keeping your interest. You came across an article that seemed almost familiar. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was about the Van der Linde gang. Between the museum in Saint Denis and the ghost stories at Shady Belle, you’ve learned a lot more about this gang in the past few weeks.

The clipping was faded and yellowed with age, though had a picture of the group posed in front of a large wagon. You stepped closer to get a better look; gazing over each and every one.

You paused at one, a man that looked…too familiar. Though with the low quality, it was a little difficult to really see. The name had been listed under the picture in order, and you found it: Arthur Morgan.

Now it hit you, he looked a lot like the Arthur you knew. You tilted your head in thought, observing as many features as the century-old newspaper allowed. Perhaps this was Arthur’s ancestor, or maybe it was some strange coincidence.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you returned to your laptop. A few minute search rewarded you with a better image of this fellow.

Well, “better” would be a loose term, given how old the photo was. Still, it provided more features than the newspaper did. Arthur Morgan was posing in front of a backdrop, a revolver in hand with a fierce and very familiar expression. You recalled a moment from last night, how angry Arthur had looked when defending you from Tom. The resemblance was uncanny.

You tried to focus on your work once again, yet Arthur and his possible doppelgänger ancestor remained in the back of your mind. Maybe you could ask him next time you ran into him.

Your thoughts began to wander more, idly thinking about the dream you had last night. Admittedly he was a handsome man, though getting in bed with him was the furthest thing on your mind. The way his lips caressed your body sent a flush of heat into your cheeks. You could vaguely recall seeing him shirtless, a broad torso lined with thick muscle. Was that what he looked like in real life?

You reached further into your subconscious, mentally peeling his clothing off layer by layer. You could hear his voice, low and rough, his teeth grazing against your neck.

Despite the air conditioning, your body was hot.

You took a deep breath and shut your laptop, knowing there was nothing much else to be done with yourself in such a state. You’d have to find another activity to keep yourself busy. Silently, you scolded yourself for allowing to even consider such a thing. Arthur was nice, as strange as he seemed when you first met him. A gentleman who gave off an air of old-school polite mannerisms, yet fiercely protective as well. You had to wonder why he didn’t have a significant other, or if he did and just never mentioned it.

Of course he wouldn’t mention it, you’ve only spoken with him a handful of times.

Shit, why were you thinking about him so much?

---

The day wore on rather quickly, after you left the library you’d stopped for a quick lunch before returning home. Even though you kept yourself busy enough, you still could not get the image of those beautiful baby blues from your head. You’d even found yourself doodling them at some point; on the corner of your notebook page.

As the sun was setting, you were beginning to grow restless. With the evening off, your ideal night would be to relax. However, you felt as if you needed to do something else. You’d hadn’t had a Friday night off in a while, so it felt a little strange. You may go out for a walk perhaps, enjoy the outdoors after having your nose buried in research and textbooks for the majority of the day. Walking at night wasn’t something you’d done often, especially in such a humid area. The air had cooled down to a bearable temperature, enough to enjoy nature without feeling suffocated.

You knew most of the people in town as they’ve come into the club at some point or another. Rhodes wasn’t a town known for its crimes; though you had a pocket knife on you just in case. You headed toward the park, the paths illuminated with golden lights. Aside from the heavy ambience of crickets and katydids, it was quite peaceful. You wandered aimlessly, occasionally passing by others who had the same idea. Evening joggers and couples chattering away, or enjoying each other’s company.

It’d been a few years since your last relationship, opting to focus on your studies rather than a significant other. Regardless you missed the companionship and closeness, and a warm body to cuddle with. You imagined a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist, your skin tingling from the sheer thought of it. God, were you that touch-starved?

You sat down on a nearby bench, facing an elegant fountain. You focused on the running water, the sound of it soothing. Still, the distraction didn’t allow those thoughts to stray. A ghost of a person beside you, keeping you in a loose embrace. Tender lips pressing a light kiss to your cheek, whispering sweet words to you.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, your gaze turning to see a figure stepping into the light. You’d expected to see another park goer, instead it was someone all too familiar: Arthur.

Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. You’d caught yourself daydreaming about him again, and it was if the universe was teasing you at this point. Perhaps it was a hallucination fueled by your own desires.

He caught your stare. “Hey, Y/N.”

Definitely wasn’t a hallucination.

“A-Arthur, didn’t expect to see you here!” you exclaimed slightly louder than you intended to keep your voice steady.

“Could say the same ‘bout you,” he responded with a slight chuckle. “You doin’ alright?” his tone became more serious, though with a hint of concern.

You nodded, remembering those moments from last night in your home. “Better. I’m not as hurt as I thought I was. I told my boss too, like you said. And took the night off.”

He nodded. “Good,” he stepped closer, gesturing to the empty space on the bench next to you. “Mind if I sit?” when you shook your head, he sat down and you realized he was a little closer than normal.

He was just mere inches from you, your skin tingling once again as if he radiated electricity. Your heart began to race, and you took a slow, deep breath to try and calm yourself. “Thank you,” you managed to say, “Again, for last night.”

He gave you a small smile. “Don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

“You saved me, Arthur,” you continued. “I don’t know what else would have happened if you hadn’t shown up. You even stayed with me when I asked, even if it was stupid. If I could ever repay you, please let me know.”

He looked at you again, though his expression was hard to read. He sighed and shook his head, “That ain’t needed.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed, sensing his hesitation. “It could be anything…really.”

You caught your own desperation from your response, followed by a stab of shame. You hoped he hadn’t picked up on it. His attention turned to you again, his eyes staring directly into yours. Those blue eyes were beautiful and hypnotizing. You could get lost in them. Quickly, you peered at his lips. They were surprisingly plump and slightly parted, as if he were going to say something. Yet it was silent between the two of you.

Was he leaning in?

You’d never been this close to him before, his defining features stood out even in the darkness. The way his cheekbones were set, sloping a smooth angle to a strong, scarred jaw. The stubble that shadowed his face, you could just imagine it tickling you if you kissed him-

Kissing him.

You were that damn close to his face.

Fuck it.

You closed the space by planting your lips to his. They were unusually cool like the rest of his body, but soft against your skin. When you felt his body stiffen, you pulled back at an instant, afraid that you’d misread him.

He stared at you with a dumbfounded expression. “Y/N-”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, tearing your sight from him. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I totally misjudged- I didn’t mean- I thought you-”

Your rambling was stopped short when you felt a hand caress your cheek. You peered shyly up at him again, surprised to see a small smile on his face. It absolutely took your breath away to see him stare at you that way.

He guided your face close again until his lips rested on yours. You were even more surprised by this, almost pulling back in your own confusion. But his hand, as gentle as it was, kept you locked in. You melted to his touch, kissing him back with gaining confidence.

It felt like ages when he finally released you, pulling back slowly as his fingers slid from your cheek. The smile remained on his face. You stared him, your mouth slightly hanging open. Did that really just happen?

You’ll catch flies like that, sweetheart.” He chuckled.

You closed your mouth with a little more force than necessary. Your face burned with a blush. “Uh…” was all you could manage to utter.

“You okay?” he asked, the concern immediate on his face.

You blinked and nodded, turning your head away in embarrassment. “God, I-” you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. “We just kissed.”

“Yeah…we did.” He said nonchalantly. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

You turned your head slowly to face him, but avoiding his gaze at the same time. You weren’t sure why you felt so shy at the moment. “Of…course,” you said slowly. “I just…I didn’t know you wanted to as well.”

He chuckled again. “Wouldn’t o’ kissed ya otherwise, Y/N.”

Somehow you blushed even harder. You covered your face sheepishly. “Aw jeez…didn’t think I’d be so flustered…”

“Hey…” you felt his cool hand on yours, slowly peeling it away from your face. “You’re alright, darlin’.”

Darlin’, just like in your dream. Was this a dream? His eyes were on yours, exhibiting a softness on his otherwise weathered face. You reached out, cupping his face almost hesitantly. His stubbled skin felt very real to you, your thumb running along his cheekbones. You could observe his features up close for once, from the faint scars that decorated his face and the ridge on his nose, indicating it’d broken at one point. He was very real to you.

“Can…can I kiss you again?” you asked, your voice lower than a whisper.

He nodded silently, allowing you to take the lead this time. You brought yourself closer, eliciting a kiss even better than the last. Your arms wrapped around his neck, the muscles of his shoulders strong underneath your touch. His mouth felt soft against yours, his lips moving in sync with yours. Hands rested against your waist with a light touch, and you scooted closer into his arms. His grip tightened slightly.

Your thoughts roamed back to earlier, awakening a spark that cascaded down your body.

The kiss became more heated, his mouth gently prodding yours to open as his tongue darted across your lips. You chased after it with your own tongue, wanting so desperately to have more of him. Would it go that far tonight?

As if he read your mind, his hands disappeared from your waist only to gently grip your wrists. He pulled your arms from around him, parted the kiss and sat back. You pouted and whined slightly, craving even more.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Don’t wanna get carried away with ya. Might end up doin’ somethin’ I’ll regret.”

You sighed in disappointment, but you understood. It was too soon for anything else right now, and you still barely knew one another. You ignored how your emotions were driving you wild. Too wild. You’d never experienced anything like this before for someone else. Arthur really had a different effect on you in a way you couldn’t explain.

He brushed his lips against your hands, still trapped within his. He lifted your arm up gently to kiss a line from your palm, down to your wrist. He rested his mouth against your pulse point for a second before releasing your hands. You could have sworn you felt his teeth graze your skin, but it was so slight and quick you weren’t able to tell. “Walk with me, Y/N. Think I oughta get to know ya more.”

You nodded silently, though your legs felt rooted to the bench. He helped you to your feet, sliding his hand into yours with a gentle grip.

You didn’t expect yourself to become a chatterbox after that, but for the next twenty minutes, you walked around the park as you poured your entire life out to him.

“So you’re gonna be a pharmacologist, huh?” Arthur asked after you’d explained why you were here. “That’s a lotta schoolin’ ain’t it?”

“So much, feels like an eternity sometimes,” you sighed. “I think at this point I could list every drug in the world in alphabetical order, along with each effect it has on the human body. The best part is it’ll be part of my job to create new ones.”

“That’s some skill,” Arthur mused. “New drugs to fight sickness n’ all?”

You nodded. “My ambition will be the death of me.” You said with an amused tone.

Arthur peered over at you. “Ah, don’t say that. You’ll be great at it.”

“I’m only joking,” you pointed out with a smile. “But some days I feel like my head will explode from all the studying. I was in the library earlier and-” you stopped your train of thought, remembering what you discovered in the library. “Hey Arthur, are you named after an ancestor? Like a great-great grandfather or something?”

He frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“Well, I came across something interesting. Those outlaws that used to roam this area over a hundred years ago? The library has some information displayed about them. I found a picture of one that looks exactly like you, and has the exact same name.” you explained.

The confusion in his face deepened slightly, and then it was wiped when he gave a slight chuckle. “Yeah. Guess you could say that. Descendant of an outlaw.”

Something about his tone struck you as odd, as if he were nervous about it. Perhaps of being judged by his family’s history?

“It’s gettin’ late, lemme escort ya to your car.” He said, squeezing your hand slightly.

You blinked and glanced at your phone. It was nearly 10 pm. “Oh, shoot, didn’t even realize it was that late.”

He led you back through the park, taking you to the parking lot where your car was. He finally released your hand, and noted how cold it felt despite holding on to it for nearly a half hour now. You turned to face him, smiling up at his handsome face.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he murmured to you, leaning in for a kiss to which you responded eagerly.

It was quick and sweet. As you broke from him, you said, “Arthur, we walked around the park for twenty minutes and I still haven’t learned much else about you.”

A half smile touched his lips. “Ah, my life is borin’ compared to yours, darlin’. Pretty sure you won’t wanna hear ‘bout it.”

“But I do,” you responded as-a-matter-of-factly, putting your hands on your hips. “Especially if…ya know, we’ll be seeing each other more often. I just gave you my whole life story, so I’d like to hear yours.”

His head shook slightly at your tone, the smile widening with amusement. “I ‘spose that’s fair. Next time, sweetheart. Don’t wanna keep ya out too long.” He reached over and nimbly opened your car door.

How was he such a gentleman? “Okay, how about a date? I have off next Monday.”

“A date.” He repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Been a while since I’ve been on one.”

“And all the more reason to do it.” you pointed out with a smile.

He contemplated for a moment, his eyes cast toward the ground. He finally looked at you once again, giving you a nod. “Alright. Monday night.”

“8 pm, we’ll go to that little burger joint by the school. Sound good?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought and appearing almost…nervous? He finally nodded and answered, “Sure. 8 pm on Monday night.”

“I’ll see you then, Arthur.” You said as your smile widened.

It was then when you said your real farewells. He’d reached out to caress your hair gently, each touch elicited from him would send sparks along your skin. Your body trembled with a slight shudder as he whispered another goodbye to you, smiling at you before stepping away.

You watched as he crossed the parking lot over to a motorcycle partly hidden in the shadows. He mounted the iron horse and the engine roared to life, filling the night air with its growls. Just moments later he skirted across the lot, turning onto the street before speeding off and out of sight. As the noise faded, you stepped into your car and sat down.

Excitement overtook you from head to toe, expressing itself in a squeal of glee. For the first time in years you had a date.

[vindvin]

օƒ ցօӀժ ąղժ çɾìʍʂօղ.

ʂհҽ was really like a storm in the middle of the night – always surprising with a wave of thunder, and lightning. he did not show it, but her abrupt appearance in the room disturbed his brief moment of peace. he did not expect her to sit next to him, most people would get as far away as possible. some girls would even take the far end of the table, and let him observe them. the servants did what they had to do, and aloysius just enjoyed his drink. he was calm, and slow – he liked to indulge. he guessed she must have been hungry, she has been running around and dancing. roderick’s snarky comments made aloysius look at him – the portrait zipped his lips the second the stern look met him. aloysius lifted a hand politely, he dismissed chai’s offer. despite the close dance they had, aloysius was incredibly picky when it came to skin to skin contact, and hell forbid, affection. he was a cold wall after all – his moments of openness were deceiving. 

“enjoy your meal, chai. while you are at it, I should tell you a story,” aloysius moved his chair back, sliding out of his seat. he started pacing around with the glass in his hand. he did not necessarily wanted her eyes to follow. he believed his stories were effective if he moved around – and his moves were graceful. he was a sight at all times – even when killing. and he wanted her to eat her meal in peace – he never ate much human food anyways. “story time, everyone!” roderick bellowed, and surprisingly aloysius did not say anything. he was used to such behaviour, and he knew that his stories were always the highlight of the day. the portraits woke up and looked at aloysius, some observed chai. but nobody talked, well, roderick was an exception. he was skipping in his frame, trying to show as much excitement as possible. “which one are you telling tonight, sire? is it the one with-“ “shut up, boy,” an elderly man scowled at roderick, and the boy stuck his tongue out at him. aloysius looked at roderick, and then at chai. the resemblance was uncanny. roderick too was stuck in his teens, and it showed – he liked games, he liked to play around, and aloysius could tell he liked chai. “you must know by now that this is not an ordinary place,” aloysius started and roderick cupped his cheeks, listening attentively. the servants and maids were also listening closely, trying not to intrude. only two maids were at chai’s side, tending to her every needs. if she had something on her cheek, they would wipe it away. because a lady should always look proper in front of a man like him. “this one’s good, listen, listen, listen,” roderick said excitedly, he spun once, and locked his gaze on aloysius. his master moved closer to a bookshelf that was across chai – he did not want her to be too distracted from her food. “clarisse, if you are kind,” he said with a smile. the bookshelf threw up pages, and they levitated, spinning around aloysius. they were written in a gothic script, hard to decipher. aloysius memorised the story, but the pages added a visual effect he did not wish to lose – he loved showing off after all. roderick almost squeaked, but he stopped himself from screaming of joy. “time does not exist in this place. you could call it a beacon, a phantom castle, the edge of the world, the purgatory – it has had many names across centuries. it captures time in a way mortals could never understand it. as days pass, you will feel weaker, older. and indeed, you grow older quicker within its walls. this one day we spent together,” he paused for suspense. one of the pages flew closer to chai, folding itself into a dove. “has covered a month of your time. the outsiders have lived without you for a month,” aloysius continued, and the dove circled chai gracefully. aloysius opened his palm, and another page folded in a rose. “mortals never understand the beauty of timelessness. immortality is a gift and a curse. living with time is tiresome, daunting, and absolutely unnecessary. you do not have to worry about time here, chai. clocks do not work the way you expect them to. they will trick you, they will tail you, they will taunt you. it is your human essence that will make you seek them and wonder how much longer you have to wait until your end.” roderick looked at chai worried, aloysius told the story to every new girl on their first day. it was the beginning of the end. his master had a time frame set for every girl, depending on how much they impressed him. sometimes he would slay them at the dinner table, forcing every eavesdropper to hear the screams of agony and pain. sometimes he gave them a few days, rarely did the days exceed seven. after a week, in human time seven months, he would grow bored and tired of keeping them around. roderick could not remember the last time a girl lasted for a week. “tonight’s story will not be long, I am afraid,” he said and crashed the rose in his hand. two seconds after he spoke, there was a banging at the door. aloysius looked displeased, he did not like to be disturbed like that, he really did enjoy taking eternity to speak – he had that long. “straight to the point then. you have twelve days, chai. one year with me, in your time. you are allowed to explore everything but my chamber. do not disturb me, do not intrude, do not break my privacy. if you do, I will cut your days. now, if you excuse me, I have some hounds to dispose of,” he let the pages return to their place, only the dove stuck around chai. aloysius walked towards the door, and as he did, a wall of mist blocked the exit. the dining room was no longer able to see, or hear him, but he was there. “your town’s really nosy,” roderick scoffed and looked at chai in disgust – only because he associated her with the common folk. “so what if our master is cruel, and brutal, and a bloody-“ “boy, hold your tongue,” the elderly portrait warned, but roderick was on fire. the servants were looking incredibly worried, and anxious. what if aloysius hears? of course he will hear. “shut up, old crone,” roderick hissed and looked at chai. “hold your tongue, you brat!” a girl in a portrait screeched at roderick. “a bloody vampire. he’s a vampire. there, I said it. she’ll find out soon anyways, wait for it,” roderick stopped for dramatic effect, he knew what was coming. and sure enough, the sight did not disappoint. a man crawled out of the mist, his neck bleeding, his hand reaching out. he mouthed ‘help me’, but before he could say anything else, something, or rather someone, dragged him back in the mist. his scream was unheard by everyone but aloysius.

--- ( @thegildedone​ )

[buckybarnesbingo]

Week 17 Roundup!  

Title: Too Much To Ask Collaborator: rinnwrites Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y2 - Dumpster Diving Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: High School AU Summary: Bucky Barnes is the perfect boyfriend. Word Count: 1112

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Title: Pin-Up Girl (Part 1) Collaborator: shield-agent78 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K1 - holiday fic Ship: Bucky/Reader, Gambit/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: language, teasing, fluff, applied adult content Summary: Y/N had been in love with Bucky from the moment they first met, but their relationship never went any further than the harmless flirtations now and then.  That is until one day with a little push from Wanda and a small gift that relationship changes. Word Count: 910

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Title: The Pit-falls of Vampirehood, starring James Barnes and his Major Crush on Steve Rogers - Chapter 3: Sticky Problems Collaborator: Judy_The_Dreamer Link: AO3 Square Filled: U3 - KINK: Masturbation Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content, vampire/werewolf college AU, fluff, meet cute, getting together Summary: A line is crossed and Steve and James's relationship enters new territory. Word Count: 6498

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Title: Take a Break - Part 3 Collaborator: awkwardfangirl2014 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C2 - sunrise/sunset Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Not Rated Major Tags: fluff Summary: With your boss driving you up the wall and Bucky having the weekend free, you decide one an impromptu beach vacation. Word Count: 855

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Title: Not Quite Kidding Around Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y2 - Domesticity Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Were-Creatures, Vampires, AU Summary: When Bucky blurts out a semi-hidden desire post-shift, Tony doesn’t know how to react. Word Count: 555

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Title: Tag-a-Long Collaborator: ruckystarnes Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C1 - little sister Ship: Hanna Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: Gen Major Tags: none Summary: Bucky was always the over protective brother to Hanna, especially when she would date. But when he’s away for training in Wisconsin, she gets close to a mutual friend Word Count: 784

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Title: Bucky Barnes Hates the Heat Collaborator: pherryt Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Heat fic Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: First Kiss, Mild Panic Attack, Little bit of angst, Fluff Summary: Bucky Barnes hated the heat. Most of the Avengers had apparently decided that the Winter Soldier and Captain America both would have embraced the heat, due to their years long of being frozen. They were wrong. Word Count: 1924

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Title: Pin-Up Girl (Pt. 2) Collaborators: shield-agent78 and  averyrogers83 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: for shield-agent78, Y4 - KINK: BDSM Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Explicit Major Tags: language, teasing, smut, BDSM, knife kink, flirting Summary: Bucky and you decide to put your costume to good use. Little did you know just how dominant the Sergeant could become. Does true feelings surface? Pure smut with a plot. Word Count: 1679

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Title: lullabies echo in the nursery Collaborator: sweeetmonstrosity Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 – Free Space Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Family AU, Happy Ending Summary: In which Tony feels guilty that he daydreams of wanting more after being home a year and he panics when he lets it slip. Word Count: 3135

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Title: Breaking All The Rules (Pt. 2) Collaborator: shield-agent78 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U3 - KINK: Oral Sex Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: language, teasing, smut (oral female receiving) Summary: You are Bucky have been friends and partners for years, now that he is back from the soul world do you throw caution to the wind and tell him how you really feel about him. You both have rules and one is that you don’t date partners. The second one, you don’t fall in love.   Word Count: 2136

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Title: Alpha Force Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - Interrupted by SuperVillians Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: ABO Dynamics, Winter Soldier Bucky Summary: Never get in between an alpha and his omega, especially when you’re dealing with superheroes. Word Count: 766

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Title: Veto Power Collaborator: LBibliophile Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y5 - Writing Style: dialogue only Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: dialogue only, Bucky’s metal arm, canon divergent, Tony lives Summary: Tony likes building things. He likes designing them, and constructing them, and adding the final touches. But sometimes, when he is making things for someone else, they are spoilsports and won’t let him try his amazing ideas. Bucky just wants an arm he is willing to be seen with. Veto power works… for a while. Word Count: 352

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Title: Dueling Disguises Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - Kink - Role Playing Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: No Powers, Identity Porn Summary: Junior SHIELD analyst James "Bucky" Barnes is in way over his head, impersonating a deadly mercenary in order to get evidence that Obadiah Stane is behind the contract to kill his boss, Tony Stark. In the middle of the mission, Bucky goes to a club to blow off some steam and meets a man with an uncanny resemblance to the billionaire genius. Word Count: 1460

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Title: There Is No Success Without Sacrifice Collaborator: Trashcanakin Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - [Image of Bucky covered in blood] Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: canon divergent, Tony needs a hug, Bucky feels, Steve critical, angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, murder, PTSD, non-graphic violence Summary: The rogues were back and Tony Stark was fine; he was! Avoiding or fighting with the members of Team Cap is just par for the course, right? He didn't really hate them, of course; but he tends to get wrapped up in his own head and thinks he knows what someone needs. Read: Not Him. When a group of armed men blow up a building and threaten to take one of them, Tony does what he does best, he acts on instinct. Will his self-sacrificing ways turn out for the best this time? Word Count: 4770

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Title: It Would Sure Do Me Good (To Do You Good) Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - [image of Bucky in the Chair from CA:WS] Ship: Bucky & Tony Rating: Gen Major Tags: Recovering!Bucky, Recovering!Tony, Pre-Slash? Summary: Bucky shares a recovered memory during a late-night visit to Tony’s workshop and returns the favor by talking Tony into getting some sleep. Word Count: 611

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Title: One Call Away Collaborator: Iron_Eirlyssa (Eirlyssa) Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Protectiveness Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Pre-Relationship, Wrong Number, College AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Attempted Kidnapping Summary: When Tony notices he's being followed on his way home, he calls Rhodey to help him out. Except it turns out he didn't, not quite. Word Count: 2346

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Title: How To Save A Life (It Just Might Be Yours) - Chapter 2: A Daunting Task Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: K3 – grocery run Ship: Bucky & Tony Rating: Teen Major Tags: non-graphic violence, implied/referenced brainwashing, accidental baby acquisition, childcare shenanigans, recovered memories, found family, nightmares, implied/referenced torture, hurt/comfort Summary: The Asset is faced with having to get more supplies for the baby. He is very much not prepared. Word Count: 5701

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Title: and i'll call you by mine Collaborator: rinnwrites Link: AO3 Square Filled: C5- Jealousy Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: soulmate identifying marks, fix-it of sorts Summary: Bucky’s soul mark, like everyone’s, had appeared on the inside of his non-dominant wrist during puberty. The first initial of the one person in the world that would truly complete him, make him whole. It would burn, when he touched the right one for the first time, a white hot flash. Or It would have. His arm was cold metal, polished and blank. His mark was gone. Word Count: 2861

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Title: One Night Stand (Pt. 2) Collaborator: shield-agent78 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B4 - Sleep Deprivation Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: fluff, anguish, mentions of a one night stand Summary: Was your time with Bucky just a one night stand or do you both really want more? You can read One Night Stand (Pt. 1) here Word Count: 587

[davenilla-blog]

please write about dave trying and failing to do sick skate tricks and eating shit instead

ok

you started young - around the age of five. bro wasn’t around so you figured why not give it a try. you dug one of his old skateboards out, set it on the ground on the roof of your apartment, and stood on it. it was fine, even when you gave the smallest of pushes to get the board going. it was only when you really heaved yourself did you lose your balance and fall. 

you quickly stashed the board back, cleaned up your wounds and pretended like nothing happened. 

but you persisted, and eventually you got the hang of being on a board and you were following bro around when he felt obligated to take you on errands. it was the only way your little legs could keep up with his long strides but it was cool. you felt cool being on a board. 

by the age of eight you got into tricks. you always tried doing small kick flips or nollies but nothing too grand, at least, nothing too grand when somebody was around to watch your failure. you’d try a grind when nobody was in the park, inevitably biting the dust and having to come home cause you bent your finger wrong. 

bro knew, obviously, but he spared you the embarrassment for the most part, which was surprising because he was usually the first to point out your fuck ups. maybe it’s cause you’d spend hours on your own trying your hardest to get good at riding the board that somehow, maybe, he was proud of your determination? you don’t know. 

luckily, by the age of ten, you knew how to wow the other kids at the park and by this point, they knew exactly who you were. their older siblings knew who bro was, and by default, that meant they knew who you were. not because he talked about you, because you seriously doubt that he ever even mentioned he had a kid brother, but because your resemblance to him is uncanny. probably the shades gave it away. 

a lot of the younger kids looked up to you, bother literally and metaphorically, because you tend to play with the older kids on the ramps. you don’t mean the tiny bunny hills, but the ramps that always seemed a little daunting when you were only a few years younger. the ramps where you could easily get seriously hurt, but you showed no fear as you did flips and kicks.

until one day when you totally bit the dust. 

you were having a bad day from the moment you woke up. bro got on your case about who knows what, you couldn’t even remember by the time you left the apartment, even with a bruise starting to form on your mouth. you sucked it back, grabbed your board and left without another word. 

you skated hard down the street, weaving between people and traffic and headed straight for the park. sure, it was a school day, but a few kids skipped just like you did. you needed to get your anger and frustrations out, though and the concrete was the only viable source for your ever bubbling annoyance. 

they looked at you, noticed the bruised, and didn’t say anything. not because they were scared, but because they knew and understood and it’s not like you’d cry on their shoulders anyway. they weren’t your friends. they were just people who looked up to you because you were fucking good with a board at such a young age. that was all. 

but your hurt blinded you and you kept fucking up. badly. to the point where they started to laugh at you, poking fun at how the amazing dave strider is a total fuck up. in hindsight, they probably weren’t, but you were in your own head and still wounded from your previous encounter with bro. 

you tripped, slid on the pavement and shredded your palms. 

you missed the timing of your ollie and rolled down the ramp, the board soaring over your head. that’s definitely going to be a bruise. 

you falter going down a jump you’ve done a million times and miss the landing, nearly falling back and cracking your head open, but you manage to twist yourself in time and land wrong on your ankle.

you almost belly-flop down a smaller ramp and bruise your fingers and knuckles and rip your jeans. 

you feel like a beginner and you go home to lick your wounds, leaving your board behind because fuck it if you care. 

bro’s not home when you arrive and you’re thankful because you don’t want to hear it and you know he’ll mock you for being such a colossal fuck up. you shower, clean up your wounds and go to bed at 3 pm. 

when the next day comes around, you decide that maybe school is a good distraction from the previous day, but it also reminds you that you left your board there. you make a mental note to grab it on your way home. 

after school, you do exactly that, and you’re surprised by how busy the park is. you search high and low for your board, but one of the fuckers probably walked off with it and you’re ready to head home when you hear a tiny voice behind you. 

you spin around and there’s this kid there, holding your board up. he can’t be much younger than you, and he has a big stupid grin on his face as he hands it to you. he doesn’t say anything when you take it, but he gives you a thumbs up and runs off towards an older woman and a little girl. must be his family. 

you don’t say anything to him other than nod in thanks and look down at your board. there’s a sticker on the bottom that says ‘cool!’ and you don’t remember putting it there. it makes you smile, a tiny fraction of a smile because you can’t give away how happy it actually makes you, as you drop the board onto the ground, hop on and head home.

[secret--ink]

She wanted to blame her older sister for her music taste, or more specifically, her obsessive nature with a certain British boy band. Unable to escape the bubblegum pop vibes of NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys from her childhood, her knowledge of their songs went unmatched by any subject she studied in school since she was forced to listen to them in their shared bedroom until she was five. She had no power against turning them off, she had no power in changing any of the music really. And while she thought that she would have a break once her sister went to college, while she thought may she could finally listen to her own music and develop her own likes and dislikes, the influence was already too deep.

She wanted to blame her older sister for the way music took over her life, for the way she suddenly found herself thrust into the fangirl lifestyle, complete with her bedroom walls covered in various magazine cutouts of her favorite band. At first, it was the Jonas Brothers. She nearly dragged her sister along to two of their concerts, making t-shirts with her favorite member’s name - Nick - on the back. Spending the entire concert jumping up and down, her dad was simultaneously worried about her well-being and impressed with her energy levels. That same behavior seamlessly transferring to One Direction as soon as they stepped foot on American shores, she shelled out $700 to attend their first concert in DC - a price that was a bit daunting at first. But as she and her sister attended their concerts over the band’s five years together, travelling to different states, the price no longer seemed like a challenge.

She wanted to blame her older sister for a lot of things. She wanted to blame her for the fact that their parents had very little picture of her as a baby because she was the third child while her sister had three full photo albums dedicated to her just from her grandparents alone. She wanted to blame her for the lack of makeup tips, her sister preferring a more natural and simple look, leaving her to research for hours on Youtube to learn the newest trends and how to highlight correctly. She most definitely wanted to blame her for inheriting the oldest car the family had once she was old enough to drive while her sister, of course, got a brand new car.

But now, as she found herself sitting in the empty studio, she couldn’t even begin to think of something to blame her for. In fact, in a turn of events, she owed her sister.

She owed her sister a lot.

She watched as he emerged from the back of the stage, his body draped in a silhouette of black as he made his way through the growing cloud of manufactured fog billowing from the two machines that flanked the small space. Orders from the director coming through the loudspeaker sent the multiple stage hands briskly walking in different directions, rigging lights and taping down cables to protect the talent. She couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at her lips as she watched him play with the mic stand, endlessly raising it until it reached his preferred height.

She knew how tall he was, or at least appeared, before they met. But, it still surprised her and no matter how much time they spent together, it continued to do so. He towered over everyone he met, excluding most basketball players, and no amount of heels that she wore could ever amount to his tall stature. But, she wasn’t complaining. In fact, it was one of the most attractive things about him (among an ever growing list). She liked the way he had to nearly bend in half to reach her lips anytime he wanted to kiss her, her neck craning back until it felt like it was going to snap. She liked the way she fit against his body when he was close, his arms wrapping around her shoulders in the most protective hold she had known, his chin resting against the top of her head as he stood behind her. And she especially liked the way her ears fell in perfect line with his heartbeat as she snuggled against his chest during their lazy morning in bed, becoming familiar with both his resting heart rate and his more erratic, nervous heart rate.

She watched as his eyes searched for her, unable to see much past the now blinding spotlights that fell on him as the music started to fade in. She knew he wanted her front row for rehearsals, like he always did. He wanted her front row for all of his performances. His beacon when his anxiety got too overwhelming or when he felt the performance slipping away from him, he liked knowing exactly where she was. Just in case, he always told her. While it was a small sentiment that sent her heart aflutter in the best way, she knew the second he stepped on stage, in whatever venue, he was right at home.

And that’s exactly what happened. He breezed through rehearsal like the pro he was, equipped with his charming smile as if the room was full of screaming fans rather than a number of older beer-gut bellied men, half of whom were from England, just like the show’s host.

“That was great!” James chimed from his desk, his regular-clothed appearance still somewhat jarring as they had alway seen each other in formal attire. “Brilliant.”

Shawn laughed, “Thanks, man.”

“Shawn?” The director came over the loudspeaker. “How did that feel? Anything you want to change or run over again?”

He shook his head, unfolding himself from underneath his guitar strap, handing the instrument over to the waiting stage hand. “I don’t think so. That felt pretty good.”

“Great. As soon as we’re done running over a segment with James, we’ll go over the monologue with you. So just hang out for a few minutes.”

She could feel his eyes on her the second the director’s voice cut off, but she made sure to keep her nose in her phone, mindlessly scrolling through her own Instagram feed so that she looked completely enthralled, pretending she didn’t watch his rehearsal. It was a senseless game that they played with each other, looking as if they weren’t interested in what was going on, but it never failed to create some of her favorite moments. He knew exactly which buttons to push, or tickle in most cases, to get her in a fit of breathless tears until she was almost blue while he pried her fingers off of her phone and she knew exactly which spots to press her lips against, and circle back to when needed, in order to get him to tear his eyes away from his multiple devices.

She cracked a small smile when she noticed his hands suddenly on either side of her chair, his fingers grasping lazily around the wooden armrests, boxing her in completely. His head dropping down until it blocked her vision, “Excuse me, I was looking at that.”

“Your own pictures?”

“I like to scroll through them sometimes.”

“Mhm.” He hummed.

“Don’t judge me, Mendes. I’ve caught you in the act before.”

“Maybe while I’m bored at home. But never when I’m supposed to be watching my boyfriend’s performance…”

She finally met his gaze, her eyebrows ruffling. “What performance?”

Shawn narrowed his gaze, shaking his head, “You’re lucky your sister is a good friend.”

“Oh is that the only reason why we’re together?”

He couldn’t deny that her older sister played a big part in their introduction. Having originally met at an event for E!, she had nearly spilled her entire plate of sliders on his lap, her heels tangling with the strings of the rug that was underneath the tables. He had caught her elbows before she face-planted into the next table, but the inertia of their bodies sent them flying to the ground anyways. Her three small hamburgers flanked his hair as though creating a halo of beef, sending her into a fit of snorting laughter before she could pick herself up off the floor.

It was his favorite first impression of one of his friends and a story he never got tired of telling. To anyone who would listen, regardless of if she was there or not, it always came up in conversation. And that was exactly how he met the younger of the two sisters, the girl who had now claimed half of his apartment.

He didn’t realize they were sisters while he was talking to her, though now that he knew both of them, he nearly kicked himself for not noticing the resemblance. They hated when they were called twins, but it was true - the similarities in their appearances were uncanny and had her sister not dyed her hair a dark brown, almost black color, most wouldn’t be able to distinguish who was who. But, as he jokingly made fun of her sister - in the most loving way - he should have read into the way she looked as unimpressed as a human could. Her face frozen in a deadpanned look, her lips barely budged into any form of smile. She didn’t smile. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even twitch.

It wasn’t until her older sister drunkenly stumbled into her from the back, knocking her into his chest and slurring her way through their introduction that he put the pieces together. A rush of color turning his cheeks a deep tomato-like red as his words caught in his throat, his lips sputtering out an apology. He had tried to turn around and escape the humiliation, but she grabbed at his forearm and when he saw her smile, he knew it was all a ploy. A very well-crafted sisterly ploy.

“She had a pretty big hand in arranging things…”

“If by arranging you mean “falling into me”...” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I owe her a really good birthday present this year.”

He laughed, throwing himself into the seat next to her. His bones settling into the cushion immediately, he could feel the exhaustion finally start to hit. He was pretty good with dealing with jetlag and having been in New York City two days prior, he thought the busy schedule with his residency would keep his mind distracted enough to trick it into being adjusted to the new time zone. But, he was wrong.

“So what’d you think?” His head rolling to the side, he had to string along the conversation to keep himself from falling asleep right then and there.

Her eyes finally glanced in his direction, trailing along the line of his now slouched body. “I think you should definitely change the pants,” she began to point out, “but I’m kind of digging the shirt. And your hair - “ His eyes fluttered at the feel of her fingers running through his long dark quiff, tousling the strands loosely until they fell against his forehead in his signature look. “Your hair needs to to be just a bit more Danny Zuko, but it’s nothing we can’t fix.”

“...I was talking about the song.”

“Oh, right.”

Most times her ignorance - whether intentional or not - was frustrating. Going beyond limits he didn’t even know existed, she pushed every button in ways that got the best of his Canadian politeness. And though he often retreated to a different room holding his tongue, they never went to be angry - a sentiment that both of their parents advised. But as he watched her tongue poke out from underneath her front teeth, her nose scrunching up as a small smile grew against her lips, he knew she had watched his performance with a fine-tooth comb. She probably had a list of notes, always good things, hidden on one of her screens.

She leaned across the armrest, the close proximity of her face a sudden, yet welcomed surprise. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, their eyes finally met for the first time during their time at the studio and he noticed the way the soft glow of the studio lights reflected in the right spots of her irises, creating a sparkle against their dark brown color. She had always hated her eye color, but he found himself getting lost in the darkest parts of the chocolate shade at all times. When they first fluttered open in the morning, squinting as they adjusted to the brightness of the natural light, he could always pick out the very faint flecks of gold that she inherited from her father before they faded by noon. A bright coffee color whenever she was excited, they glistened with a golden hue that made his cheeks hurt, a smile permanently growing on his face as he watched her either jump up and down for hours or run through the streets of whatever town they were in, screaming at the top of her lungs. Or swallowed up in a wave of tears, the shade shifted to the deepest of colors, an almost black color. And while it was the most heartbreaking of looks he had ever seen, it was also his favorite because of her vulnerability. It was in those moments that he had fallen in love with her.

“What?”

She shook her head, pressing her lips against his in a sweet, but brief kiss. “You know it’s my favorite song.”

“It’s James’ favorite too.” He hummed.

“It’s a lot of people’s favorite. I don’t know why you’re asking for my opinion, you know you killed it. And you know you’re going to kill it tonight.”

Shawn smiled, his gaze drifting to his lap. Remembering her earlier comment, his fingers pinched the fabric of his shirt right near the buttons. “You really like this shirt, huh?”

“Mhm.” She nodded enthusiastically. “You should wear it more often.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly interested in the path the conversation was taking. “Is that so?”

She pulled at her bottom lip, her eyes drifting to the somewhat see-through material of the white henley - his now go to style of shirt - that laid perfectly against his abdomen. Maybe it was the way it teased at the muscles she knew were underneath, her fingers ready to trace the lines against his skin. Maybe it was the way he had rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, exposing just enough of the guitar tattooed on his right arm, her infatuation with tattoos leaving her itching to add to her own collection. Or maybe it was the actual color of the shirt and its contrast against his slightly tanned skin and dark hair -

Whatever it was, it was working.

“How much - uh - how much time until they need you again - ?”

He drew a deep breath as her fingers wandered along neckline, dipping towards the top unbuttoned button. Almost feeling the touch of her skin against his and that’s when James’ voice broke through the haze. “Shawnologue time!”

She drew back quickly, “I guess that answers that question.”

“We’ll uh - “ He cleared his throat, slowly rising from the chair. “We’ll have to continue this discussion later.”

“Don’t forget, we have dinner with my sister after the show tonight for her early birthday celebration.”

“After dinner then.” He answered back, joining James at the mark in front of camera 1. Unable to keep his thoughts straight, he was thankful to have a few minutes to reread the cue cards before they began.

“And then we’re going out after dinner for drinks with a few of her friends.”

“After drinks.”

“And I think she wants to go to the Griffith Observatory at some point.” She continued.

“Are you - “

“And you have a meeting with the label super early tomorrow morning, so - “

“Ugh!” He groaned, his hands flying up towards his face. Smothering her mixed emotions into his palms, “You’re killing me, woman!”

“Love you too!”

And though he didn’t say it back in front of the twenty crewmembers, he knew she knew he loved her too. Immensely. Irrevocably. So intensely that it sometimes made his heart hurt. In all the cheesy romantic comedy cliches that he could imagine, he loved her all the same.

[flavorednarry]

The day Niall kicked off his debut solo tour 'Flicker Sessions' was also the 35th anniversary of the day Don Henley released his first solo album. I came across below article and there is some uncanny resemblence between the way Niall and Don started off their solo careers. No wonder, they share a father-son kind-of relationship.. read on:

35 Years Ago: Don Henley Releases His First Solo Album, ‘I Can’t Stand Still’

By Jeff Giles August 29, 2017 9:36 AM

After the massive multi-platinum success enjoyed by the Eagles throughout the ’70s, the idea of going solo following the group’s implosion must have been at least slightly daunting. But the band members wasted no time striking out on their own. By the time Don Henley released his solo debut in August 1982, more than one of his former bandmates had already started the post-Eagles phase of their recording career.

Over time, it’d become clear that Henley was content to move at an increasingly deliberate pace, taking years between albums, but the arrival of his first solo LP, I Can’t Stand Still, arrived less than two years after the Eagles’ farewell live collection made its way to stores — a fairly impressive turnaround, given that he had to put together a new band, find new songwriting partners and figure out what he was supposed to sound like outside the context of his old group. As he later admitted, it helped that he had something of a chip on his shoulder.

Recalling the phone call from Glenn Frey that led to the official breakup of the Eagles, Henley said his longtime partner started off talking about normal stuff like sports before casually letting it slip that he wanted to make a solo album. Although Frey didn’t necessarily come out and say the group was over, Henley could read between the lines — and he wasn’t happy about the way it went down.

“I always thought in my mind that when the group broke up, we’d all get in the room together and get good and drunk and sort of cry on each other’s shoulder and say, ‘Well it was great and I love you and we’re gonna just quit now,'” Henley told Musician. “He didn’t mean to do it that abrupt way, but it was too painful for him to do it any other way. He just sorta had to whip it out like that. I understand it now, but at the time it pissed me off. I just said to myself, ‘Well, if he’s going to make an album, I’m going to make an album too!'”

To start his new chapter, Henley started woodshedding with a number of West Coast session players to build up material and define a new sound. It was during this period that he ended up playing with guitarist and producer Danny Kortchmar, a former partner of James Taylor‘s who had embarked on a busy session career after leaving Taylor’s band. After testing the creative chemistry, Henley hired Kortchmar to serve as the cornerstone of his new solo band as well as his primary co-writer; of the 11 songs Henley recorded for I Can’t Stand Still, six were Kortchmar co-writes, and one — the future rock-radio single “You Better Hang Up” — was a solo Kortchmar composition.

Chalking his decision to enlist Kortchmar up to “gut instinct,” Henley admitted that his choice of collaborators stemmed as much from necessity as it did from creative ambition. I knew I needed a good musician ’cause I’m not,” he continued. “I knew I needed a good guitar player. I mostly play piano. I play drums like a songwriter; I don’t do anything fancy, just play the beat and try not to get in the way.”

While Kortchmar was certainly a big part of I Can’t Stand Still‘s musical bedrock, he was far from the only player on the record. Setting the template for future Henley releases, a small army of session musicians and special guests were rounded up for the tracks, with longtime associates like J.D. Souther, Warren Zevon and ex-Eagles Timothy B. Schmit and Joe Walsh stopping in, as well as ringers like Leland Sklar, Benmont Tench and Toto‘s Steve Lukather and Jeff and Steve Porcaro. Other famous names in the liner notes included keyboardist Garth Hudson, late of the Band, and Bill Withers.

It all added up to a sound that was, unsurprisingly, far busier than the country-inflected aesthetic the Eagles had been known for. Although the band’s records had gotten somewhat glossier over time, they were downright rootsy compared to I Can’t Stand Still — an album whose synth-coated buzz was summed up by the Top 5 single “Dirty Laundry,” which found Henley’s pointed (and ultimately prescient) observations about the growing paparazzi culture fueled by a New Wave beat and surrounded by walls of keyboards and digital noise.

The evolution may have caught some fans by surprise, but from Henley’s point of view, it was still rooted in the music he’d always loved and been inspired by — and was still a solid framework for the sort of radio-ready social commentary he’d found himself drawn to in the Eagles’ later years. “‘Dirty Laundry’ is just the blues, but we put a lot of technology into it, and put some subject matter into it. That’s what I like to do,” he pointed out. “I had a manager who once said, “There’s two kinds of songs:There’s beat songs that you can dance to, and there are message songs.” And I always thought, ‘Why can’t you have both? Why does it have to be one or the other?'”

That approach worked well with “Dirty Laundry,” but it was still a work in progress. Peaking at a respectable No. 24, I Can’t Stand Still proved there was an audience waiting for Henley’s solo work, but suggested the Eagles’ whole may have been more than the sum of its parts — at least in terms of sales. And as evidenced by the way he stalled out below the Top 40 with the similarly socially minded anti-illiteracy track “Johnny Can’t Read,” scoring a pop hit with more serious subject matter is often harder than it looks.

Still, as a first step, I Can’t Stand Still gave Henley something to stand behind as he plotted his next move as a solo performer — and let him test the waters as an artist finally in complete control of his own creative destiny. As he told a number of critics, he’d made a series of compromises throughout his years in the Eagles, and although he remained proud of their work, it didn’t always reflect his true perspective.

“One thing I’m proud of on this album is I have a sense of humor,” reflected Henley. “All the critics always said how serious the Eagles were. We never really took ourselves that seriously at all. We joked about it all the time, but maybe it didn’t come through in the music. I think I finally managed to get some humor into my music on this album. It’s a very dry humor, it’s not your basic knee-slapping fart jokes, but it does come across.”

And as for that daunting feeling as he started all over again? Henley seemed to make peace with it after he started his solo flight. “There’s a whole new generation of kids out there who don’t know about the Eagles. I think I’ve stretched out from that,” he told NME. “It’s inevitable it’ll be compared with the Eagles, but that’s all right. We did some good things.”

[exoticarmy127]

razbliuto - Suga (Spring Day series)

(n.) the sentimental feeling you have about someone you once loved but no longer do

"Jiyoo! Jiyoo! Jiyoo!"

The lights of the arena dimmed as the crowd went wild. Screams from thousands of fans filled the hollowed hall and Yoongi couldn't keep the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as pride flared in his chest.

Wong Jiyoo, Korea's top Hip Hop slash R&B artist, graced the stage for his opening number—official opening his first solo tour.

Yoongi crossed his arms as he watched from the third floor of the dome, nodding his head to the beats he produced himself. Jiyoo oozed with charisma as he worked the stage, making the dome come alive with his voice.

Yoongi smiled, remembering how it felt to have the crowds at the edge of their seats—their collective voices singing every word to their songs that it felt like the world was at the palm of his hands. 

It's been years since he debuted as a rapper in the popular idol group, BTS. They were considered legends in the K pop scene; known to have broken countless records from the time of their reign. 

But fame never did last forever.

Yoongi knew that. But he was glad they remained in their youth and continued to do what they're passionate about even after their idol group years. He was also thankful at how their beloved ARMY’s grew with them…stayed with them even through their solo endeavors.

Taehyung and Jin dived into modelling and acting, and were now considered some of the best in the industry; being offered lead roles in dramas and movies from various producers. Hoseok and Jimin became kings of variety shows, bringing joy and laughter to the television scene. Hoseok also became a well-known choreographer and was in demand by several entertainment companies while Jimin went on to becoming Korea's sweetheart by being the top idol most loved by brands. Yoongi saw his face on everything now and it was unnerving, as he would always joke with him.

Namjoon and Jungkook continued to do music and became icons in the entertainment industry with their versatility and charisma. Namjoon went abroad and released an America album which shot to the charts and got nominated for a Grammy. Jungkook became the most well-known face in the industry and was loved by many. Yoongi couldn't help but feel proud, considering their maknae managed to achieve his dream of becoming not only a great singer who would be remembered, but a great artist overall. He was the current face for Korea’s tourism board and the boys always teased him about it whenever they went on trips and would see Kookie’s face on huge billboards at the airport. 

And then there's Yoongi who went on to become what he knew from the very beginning he was meant to be: a producer and owner of his own label. He didn't only want to continue making music but he also wanted to make young people's dreams become a reality the way Bang Si-hyuk did to him many years ago.  

Wong Jiyoo was Yoongi's second artist and his most successful yet.

Yoongi averted his eyes from the stage to survey the crowds and was amazed by their reaction. Light sticks lit the sold-out arena like stars and he could see the elated expressions on each and every one of their faces.

Even if he wasn't the one performing on stage, Yoongi still felt the same rush as his latest-produced song played through the large speakers, accompanied by Jiyoo's vocals. 

He scanned the crowd and found legions of fangirls with their banners, light sticks, and other merchandise with Jiyoo’s name or face plastered on them.

Yoongi was shaking his head, amused by a banner that was asking Jiyoo to marry her when something caught his eye, causing his smile to falter.

Yoongi blinked once and shook his head, thinking whether or not he was seeing right. There was a girl a few feet from him, wearing a plain white shirt and blue jeans. A red plaid polo was tied around her slim waist and her hair fell—long and dark—against her back in soft waves.

The music seemed to be muffled against his ears as he continued to stare; the girl raising her light stick in the air and singing along to the song.

His song.

She turned slightly, and time seemed to stop as Yoongi got a better view of her face.

He would know those eyes anywhere. 

For once upon a time, the same eyes looked up at him from the crowd and somehow, it didn't matter to him if they had ten people watching them or thousands...

All that mattered was she was there; his light, his world.

Flashback 

Yoongi zipped up his black hoodie before heading into the night. It was late and the streets were empty as he held on tightly to his phone, making his way to the place he promised to meet.

The bus stop near the Han River was where they always met; even way back when he was an underground rapper. 

The night air was cool and crisp and Yoongi wished he had worn an extra layer when he saw her.

Y/N sat by the bench, her legs crossed as she typed furiously on her phone. Yoongi paused and watched her from afar for a while, knowing well that she was just playing another game app. 

And maybe he just wanted to stop and stare for a bit.

“I see you over there. Get over here, it’s cold.” Y/N suddenly spoke out and Yoongi grinned before coming up to her and sitting himself right beside her. He placed an arm around her and pulled her close which made Y/N blush as the warmth spread to her side.

“Hmm. Better?” He asked as he planted a peck on her cheek.

“What were you standing there for?” She asked as she finally looked up at him. She reached out and ran a hand through his hair almost naturally.

“Just admiring the view.”

Y/N scrunched her eyebrows and looked around exaggeratedly. “What view?”

“You’d have to walk by mirrors to see it.”

“You smooth little—“ Before Y/N could finish her sentence, Yoongi swooped in for a kiss, silencing her instantly.

“Thank you for being there tonight.” He whispered against her lips and Y/N felt her heart swell at the sincerity of his tone.

Today marked the day BTS officially debuted and Y/N had been there to watch their first stage. Yoongi had to keep from smiling so much every time he caught sight of her in the crowd. He was extremely nervous before their stage, but one look at her calmed him—prodded him to go on and do his best.

As a reply, Y/N merely smiled and grabbed the lapels of his coat before pulling him in to make out some more.

Because some words were better done, after all. 

End of Flashback

Yoongi frowned as he continued to stare at the girl. She was young, maybe about fourteen or fifteen.

And looked just like her, he thought.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling then as he stood there; immobile as the screams of the crowd muffled--almost nonexistent--in his thoughts.

There was an emptiness weighing over his chest but it wasn’t daunting or painful. Not like the day they let each other go.

Yoongi could vaguely remember the many nights he had beaten himself up over it; how he had to choose between her and his dream; the latter winning in the end. He remembered angry shouted words thrown at each other, and how he wished he could take them all back the moment she left and slammed the door shut in his face.

He regretted how things ended... but never being with her. In fact, being with her was one he considered a highlight of his life. 

It was only a few months after when the pain subsided into something far worse, in his opinion:

Longing. The act of reaching out only to find empty space, grabbing onto thin air and feeling like the world was going to cave in on him. He missed her a lot but didn’t have the courage to admit it.

As years passed, Yoongi got busier with his idol duties and the pain and longing for her subsided; patched up by long sleepless nights at the studio along with the stress and pressure of having to perform for millions of people.

He moved on. He had to.

And he knew…she did too.

I Like it by BTS

My friend clicked Like on your photo

And I see that your face looks much better

You tag tag a photo that you took with your new boyfriend

Through that, I’m backspace-ing into the memories

In that world, everything is stopped

But why am I still hanging by that time?

Do you think of me? (do you?)

I contemplate, should I click Like or not

It repeats many times…

Yoongi found himself walking towards the girl in the crowd, but stopped himself at the last minute when he realized what he was doing.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t Y/N although the resemblance was uncanny. The girl was jumping up and down as the song hit the chorus and Yoongi felt a weird feeling in his chest at the sight.

It wasn’t painful… a little sad yes, but not in the worse way.

It just looked too familiar and it brought back memories which he wasn’t sure was something he even liked going back to.

With a final look, Yoongi took a step back then turned, leaving the arena in a rush. 

The night air felt like a slap in the face the moment Yoongi pushed the double doors open. White smoke puffed from his lips as he let out a sigh, wrapping his scarf around his neck—and higher till it was covering his nose.

The front area of the dome was empty apart from some fans waiting outside. Yoongi may not be a top artist right now but people still recognized him, so he kept his head down as he headed towards the café just a few blocks from the arena. He figured he needed some coffee if he was going to stay up late tonight.

On the way to there, he passed by a convenience store and paused when a familiar form caught his eyes. She was sitting on one of the tables outside, a cup of ramyeon sitting idly in front of her. 

She was browsing through what looked like a magazine and before Yoongi could even stop himself, he blurted, “Y/N?”

Y/N looked at up at the sound of her name and the surprise was evident on her face as they locked eyes. Yoongi thought she looked much different from the Y/N he knew then... even from the girl he just saw at the arena a while ago. 

From the way she looked: her hair falling just shy of her shoulders and her face having more defined features, to the way she dressed; her tomboy t-shirt and jeans look replaced by slacks and a simple white blouse. It was different.

Only then did Yoongi realize how the Y/N sitting in front of him was no different from a complete stranger. It’s been years since they’ve been in contact, let alone seen each other.  And Yoongi knew as much as the seasons changed, people did too. 

But her eyes are still the same, a small voice in his head said as he continued to stare.

Yoongi wanted to retreat, afraid she might not even remember…or worse: she did and he wouldn’t blame her if she left right then and gave him the finger while at it.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out…

Simply because the next thing he knew, Y/N was already smiling at him.

Yoongi almost spilled his cup of coffee at the joke Y/N had told him. He was sitting across from her at the little plastic table outside the convenience store, nursing a cup of coffee—black just the way he liked it... But turned sweet just a few moments ago when Y/N managed to persuade him into putting some creamer and a little sugar.

They caught up for what felt like hours and Yoongi felt like he was finally breathing after being cramped up in that arena for so long.

They talked about everything and anything and Yoongi was delighted and at the same time a little saddened by the fact that he had missed so much.

From the time they talked, Yoongi learned that Y/N was a web designer, a recent job she had gotten after many years of trial and error within the industry. Yoongi smiled at that, knowing her passion lay in mobile apps and how to create them. He also learned that she was married and have a daughter. Yoongi figured as much considering the familiar band glinting on her ring finger. 

However, when Y/N asked the same question back regarding his love life, Yoongi merely chuckled and said he was too busy to settle down at the moment.

"Of course you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked as he took a sip from his coffee, a small teasing smile playing on his lips.

"I know you, Yoongi. You and music are like husband and wife. Can't separate the two of you." She chuckled. But instead of being amused, Yoongi felt a pang of guilt hit him as he remembered how he had chosen his career over her many years ago.

"I'm sorry." He blurted, feeling the need to say it. 

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. "For what?"

"For everything..." Yoongi shrugged as he looked away, unsure where he suddenly found the courage to say it. "For everything." He repeated and looked back at her, making it sound like a statement rather than a question.

Silence hung between them for a second and Yoongi thought he must have made things awkward for a second. 

"If you're referring to what happened between us,” Y/N suddenly said. “I want you to know that I already forgave you. A long time ago—“

"I still want to say it now." Yoongi said and there was a determined glint in his eyes. Y/N’s gaze softened at that. "I know I never got to say it back then--"

"Actually, you did." Y/N interrupted which made Yoongi pause, sporting a confused look.

"Huh?"

"You did. You apologized back then." She smiled when he only looked at her with a baffled expression. "I doubt you'd remember it though...you were drunk, after all."

"I...what?" Yoongi looked at her incredulously, not even having the slightest recollection of what she was talking about. 

Y/N nodded. "It was a long time ago. You called me, late." She said, looking towards the street as she recalled the memory. "You were saying my name over and over again even if I already answered. And I knew you were drunk and I got pissed and was about to hang up when—“

Yoongi held his breath as she paused, awaiting the continuation to the story he couldn't recall.

"You said 'if asked you to come back, don't. I'm sorry. I don't deserve you, you should know that'." 

Yoongi's mouth hung open at her words, feeling a little flushed. He couldn't believe he had said that while he was drunk. And yet those words rang true and he knew he would've said them in his sober state if only he was brave enough.

"I—“

“Yoongi,” She said, stopping him and Yoongi felt like the boy from years ago. “It’s okay.”

At her words, Yoongi felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to breathe freely for the first time after he had unconsciously blamed himself for everything that has happened.

“Omma?”

Yoongi had his mouth open to answer when he heard the call. His head snapped to the side and was surprised to find a girl standing over them with wide, curious eyes.

Her eyes, Yoongi thought and his own eyes widened caught sight of a familiar light stick poking from her backpack. 

“Yoona.” Y/N called and Yoongi blinked, realizing the girl had called her omma a while ago.

So that means, Yoongi put two and two together and couldn’t believe it was actually true. 

Y/N’s daughter was standing right before him and had actually led him to her.

“Omma…” Yoona repeated as she not-so-subtly motioned towards Yoongi.

“Ah yes, this is—“

“Suga-ssi.” Yoona said in awestruck before bowing politely. “I know. You’re awesome!”

Yoongi chuckled at that and bowed slightly in greeting before standing up to offer his seat. “I’m surprised you even know me. Though I guess you would since you are a fan of Jiyoo.”

“I love your music.” Yoona said with a smile that rivaled the sun. It was contagious and Yoongi couldn’t help but smile back. “Omma has all the BTS albums and I love those too! You guys are amazing!”

Yoongi looked sideways at Y/N whose cheeks turned slightly red at the revelation.

She still bought them, he thought in wonder; struck at how she continued to support his music even to the end.

“Oh my gosh, can I take a photo with you?”

“Yoona, Yoongi might be—“

“Sure.” Yoongi said as she let the girl take out her phone for a selca with him. Y/N looked at them and smiled, feeling thankful.

“Thank you, Suga-ssi.”

“Just call me Yoongi.” He said, glancing at Y/N. “Your mom and I go way back, after all.”

“Really?! Omma!” Yoona turned to her mother and shook her arm slightly. “You didn’t tell me you were friends with the Min Suga?!”

Y/N chuckled, giving Yoongi a sharp look. “Miane. But yes, Yoongi and I... go way back.”

“We were best friends.” He winked which made her chuckle.

“Yeah, best friends.”

After a few more minutes of chit chat, Y/N finally decided to call it night when she received a text from her husband asking if they got home alright. The man was just on his way home from work as she told.

“It was…great seeing you Y/N. And it was nice to meet you Yoona.”

“I still can’t believe I met you!” Yoona said with a grin that threatened to split her face in half. “I’m going to tell all my friends—“

“That you met Jiyoo too.” Yoongi said and Yoona’s eyes went wide like dinner plates.

“W-what?”

“He’s working at the studio with me on Tuesday. We can meet him then if you like. If you’re free—“

“OH MY GOD!!! YES! THANK YOU!” Yoona squealed and Yoongi grinned at her excitement. The girl turned from them and opened her phone to call someone, which Yoongi figured was one of her friends.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Y/N suddenly said though she was already smiling.

“Yeah, but I wanted to. It’s not everyday fans her age still recognize me.”

“You guys are still popular,” she snorted. “I see Jimin’s face…like everywhere.” She laughed and Yoongi did too.

“Yeah. We never changed.”

“But you did.” Y/N said a matter of fact and hugged her arms as a cold wind blew pass. “In a good way, though.”

“How so?”

“For starters, you’re less drunk than the last time we spoke.”

“Less?!”

“I was kidding.” She laughed as she punched his arm lightly; a familiar gesture she always did with him back in the day. “Can’t take a joke nowadays?”

“That’s probably because yours are so lame.”

Y/N stuck out her tongue at him before smiling. Yoongi was about to say goodbye when she suddenly stepped into his space and hugged him. He stood still for a moment, surprised, before sighing and returning her embrace.

“Thank you. I want you to know that I’m glad we…happened.” She said and Yoongi felt himself smile at that.

“Me too.” He said, nodding against her shoulder. 

Yoongi watched their retreating forms, clouded by a feeling that was neither sadness nor bliss but somewhere in between. He stared in wide-eye wonder as the person who once caused him much pain and longing years ago, walked away from him yet again but this time, he felt peace rather than ache at the loss. The emptiness he felt, he realized, was more like a relief of knowing someone you once loved was doing well and that you yourself has acknowledged the fact that you are more happy for them than anything else.

Y/N looked over her shoulder and smiled at him one last time, and Yoongi smiled back and waved; finally able to say that he has moved on.

They might not have ended up together the way the movies would tell. But Yoongi learned happy endings never did happen the same way as others would presume.

Happy endings don’t always end in passionate kisses and wedding bells. Sometimes it’s a chance encounter with an old friend, and getting a smile he hadn’t know he has been missing over time.

That was more than enough.

The cold air blew past but he knew that spring was coming and he was finally going to leave this winter behind.

Spring, he thought just as a lyric formed in his head.

Ring!

“Yeobseyo?” Yoongi answered his phone as he watched Y/N and Yoona disappear around the corner and into the next street.

“Hyung!” Namjoon half-yelled through the receiver but Yoongi was too dazed to scold him for it. “Please tell me you’re free right now. I have a melody in mind.”

Namjoon started to hum the tune and Yoongi blinked, awakened from his trance as the lyrics he was just thinking of suddenly fit into place…

Although you left… There hasn’t been a day that I have forgotten you.

“Meet me in an hour?” Yoongi asked, a small smile forming on his lips as he made his way back to the dome. “I have something in mind too.”

END

Are you still listening to spring day? Cause I am. haha imagine if this was the reason for the song though. hahaha

Keep streaming ARMY’s~ <3 and let me know what you think of the story!

Spring Day Series masterlist

Web Masterlist | Mobile Masterlist

[residentevilprompts]

Lucas Baker x Reader- Meet the folks

A parent’s approval can determine where your relationship ends.

AU where Eveline never existed

.

.

.

“Mom, dad?” The front door swung open slowly as you entered the homely household, your boyfriend trailing behind closely, his wide eyes shifting rapidly from the new surroundings. You gave his arm a small squeeze, hoping to calm his nervousness. Lucas seemed to appreciate the gesture but remained tense, his form hunching over slightly. You sighed, tired from the long drive back to your parents, and turned to close the front door behind the pair of you.

“I’m back!” The sound of hurried footsteps caused a wide smile to stretch over your lips as two voices yelled at each other from upstairs. You chuckled at your parents’ lack of organisation and traced Lucas’ palm gently, his face pale and somewhat daunting.

Man, he really was nervous. That was a rarity with Lucas Baker.

“Hey.” Lucas turned towards you, his lips turned down in a scowl. You grinned at his inability to portray his nerves properly. “They’re going to love you, so don’t worry so much.”

“I’m not worried,” he bit back sharply. You rose an eyebrow at his mean reply, used to Lucas’ lashing out when he had difficulties displaying his emotions. The obvious look of disapproval caused him to murmur a timid apology, his ears tinted a faded red. You stroked the back of his hand to show your forgiveness. He grinned.

“_____, darling?” The warm voice of your mother drew your attention away from your boyfriend’s worn smile, the loving figure of your parent causing you to beam brightly. The older woman embraced you happily, her laughter joyful and full of youth. She pulled away, her smile looking like it may split her face at any moment, and glanced over to Lucas. Her eyes scanned him over and despite his rugged appearance, the familiar gleam of parental approval flooded her eyes.

“Lucas, right?” She withdrew from your arms and walked up to the tall man. Lucas smiled tensely, his arms rigid as the woman rose her hand for a simple handshake. “____ has told me that you don’t like PDA much, so how about a handshake?” You mother tilted her head, her eyes challenging Lucas to deny her request. The strained smile fell from your boyfriend’s lips at the question and he took your mother’s hand into his own.

“Nice t’ meet you, Mrs ____.”

You could just see your mother melting for his thick southern accent.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Lucas!” Your mother grinned fondly at Lucas, her hand slipping from his loose grip and back to her side. “_____ has told her father and I so much about you. I must ask, can you really program a spy system?” The curiosity on your mother’s face seemed to dull out your embarrassment, her eyes staring at Lucas in wonder.

That seemed to break Lucas out of his shell.

“Yeah, I can!” You could feel the joy radiating off of him. “I like t’ make puzzles with programming and I can easily make a spy system,” he explained and continued on, “My best friend and I sometimes make plans for escape rooms when he ain’t busy. ____ also helps me make puzzles when she ain’t at work.”

You could see your mother’s heart reducing into a pile of mush at Lucas’ excitement. It appeared that his childish amusement had struck a chord with her.

“I’m glad that you and ____ have so much fun without me and her dad there,” she joked. “Why don’t you two go into the livingroom? I’ll be there in a minute with some tea.” You nodded and wandered towards the comfortable sittingroom, Lucas still stuck to your side as you sat on the sofa, allowing him enough space to get comfortable. Much to your surprise, your boyfriend huddled up next to you and lay his head on the edge of your shoulder. Lucas had a tendency to revert to his catlike habits in private, often nuzzling you as a sign of affection, but it was rare he would do it in public. Especially around new people.

You pressed a soft kiss on his brow and were pleasantly surprised when he kissed the bare skin where your neck joined your shoulders. Apparently, Lucas was feeling very affectionate today.

“____!” 

The pair of you jolted, shocked at the new voice. Lucas withdrew from your side and edged himself further back into the sofa cushions, your dad entering the livingroom shortly after. Lucas seemed to sit up a little straighter from the presence of your old man, his eyes flickering from you to your father. He seemed to be trying to find similar traits that you both shared.

“Dad, how have you been?” You embraced the middle-aged man, his arms winding comfortably around your waist and hoisting you up. You shrieked at the sudden lift and giggled as he spun you around once, gently placing you on the ground a moment later. Your dad had always been rather affectionate.

“Better now that you’re back,” he laughed. You smiled in delight. “Now, where’s the boy you brought back home for your mom and I to inspect?” He scanned the room, his eyes finally zoning in on Lucas, who seemed to blend into the sofa with his dark coloured hoodie. The warm smile on your father’s face turned stern as Lucas rose from the furniture, your boyfriend happening to tower over your parent. Both seemed to be slightly uncomfortable.

“Lucas, right?” Your dad asked, his eyes narrowed as Lucas let his hood fall off and nodded. The older man studied him for a moment, eventually letting a smile crack his strict facade and slapping a strong hand on Lucas’ back. The taller of the two stumbled for a moment, finally regaining his balance whilst your father laughed. “Welcome to the family, son. Call me _____,” he beamed.

Lucas chuckled, nodding at your father’s blunt attitude. It seemed rather similar to his own dad’s attitude.

“____, please try not to scare the poor boy,” your mother butted in as she lay a tray of tea and baked goods on the coffee table. The steam had caused a sheen of water to form on the mug rims.

“But ___, this is how I see if Lucas is the best man to date our daughter,” your father whined. The older man seemed to crumble against your mother’s look of disapproval. Lucas seemed to find the resemblance between your mother’s look of disapproval and your look of disapproval uncanny. It caused a sharp chuckle to escape his lips, making your parents stop their playful argument and divert their attention back to your boyfriend. Your mother smiled cheekily and sat on the opposite sofa, a mug positioned on her lap readily. You father followed her example except with a piece of cake instead of tea.

“So, Lucas?” Your boyfriend grew more alert at the mention his name. “What do you do for a living?”

You smiled as his eyes immediately brightened.

“I work at Umbrella Co. in the security and communication networking,” he began. “My job in security is to install any new security systems and to sometimes add more features to ensure all residents’ safety, whereas in communication networking my job is to ensure all routers are working properly and to fix any networking problems.” Lucas beamed at your approving smile. “I work closely with the advertisement and technician parts of the company, which is how I met my best friend and ______, actually.”

You chuckled at the memory.

“I remember meeting you for the first time. Man, you really gave me a run for my money with your presentation on company stocks- even if Clancy was supposed to be the one presenting it,” you mused. “You seemed to so cocky when presenting in front of everyone. Who knew you were actually an adorable dork?”

Lucas blushed, his lips quirking slightly.

You parents seemed surprised at the detailed description and story, your father seeming to have tears brimming in his eyes. Suddenly, he lay a hand on Lucas’ shoulder and leant forward, your boyfriend shifting back at the sudden contact.

“Lucas, can you please marry ___? You’re the first boyfriend she’s ever brought home with a suitable job and a good personality.” Your father seemed to be on the verge of begging, causing a pink tinge to erupt over your cheeks.

“DAD!” 

Your mother dissolved into a fit of laughter at the sudden outburst and Lucas seemed to be at a loss of what to say. Your father remained steadfast where he stood, his eyes boring back into Lucas’ pupils and causing him to shift uncomfortably. Your mother didn’t help as she tried to pull herself together, your father’s words seeming to cause her laughter to repeat on a loop.

“I- Uh- Maybe?” 

Your dad smiled eagerly, his hand falling from Lucas’ shoulder. He turned towards you excitedly, your flushed figure trying to calm your mother’s laughter attack.

“HE SAID MAYBE!”

“DAD WOULD YOU STOP, PLEASE! MOM WON’T STOP LAUGHING AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.”

Lucas could only stare in bemused confusion as you continued to argue with your father over your mother’s laughing body.

Well, at least your parents liked him.

.

.

.

For Anon (hope it was long enough!)

[specialchan]

In need of some guidance 🙏🏼 via /r/ADHD

In need of some guidance 🙏🏼

Just realised this was probably the wrong sub to drop a huge paragraph on, but would really appreciate it if you could read to the end 🙏🏼.

The only time I can sit down for any period of time is either playing video games, or going through YouTube, and even then I rarely have the paitence to watch an entire video through. School is a nightmare, I’m constantly tapping and fidgeting, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot keep still, it feels honestly really crushing. I find motivating myself incredibly difficult. If a task will take me anything longer than a few minutes, even something I know I will enjoy, I often put it off and most of the time won’t ever actually begin it, as it feels so daunting. It dosen’t make me anxious, but simply put off, as it seems like so much effort. Many will say I am simply lazy but I can see it is more than that. Even writing this, my mind is jumping all over the place, trying to organise and articulating my thoughts is really frustrating, as I feel nobody will understand and think I’m rambling, because I can’t explain it sufficiently. I get frustrated and upset incredibly easily doing tasks that I find difficult, such as Maths homework or cognitive tests, causing me to have aggressive outbursts and often uncontrollable emotions. Even in writing this post, I am zoning out and going on autopilot. I cannot for the life of me remember dates, deadlines, if I am given an important thing to remember, I rarely remember to do it, even if it’s crucial that I do. I am so poorly organised it is honestly embarrassing, I’m sure that if you even bothered to read this it feels like a messy monologue. I have taken online assessments and it always comes up with “strong indication of ADD/ADHD” (not saying this is anything close to a diagnosis whatsoever, but could at least show an uncanny resemblance). Because many of my friends/family/teachers consider me a “smart” kid, they always think I’m slacking, and all of them say “he’s so bright but isn’t giving it his full effort” which is complete bullshit. School is so much effort it’s so mentally draining, meaning when I get home I have little motivation to partake in any hobbies. Because I am considered a “bright” student, nobody ever seems to take me serious when I bring up the possibility of me having add. And the more I read about people’s experience with ADD/ADHD, the more i think “this describes me so well”. The resemblance is shocking. The only part of it that seems to puzzle people is my age. I am 15, and I can clearly see that it’s uncanny to go this long with no diagnosis, but it’s so clear that something isn’t normal. I am in no way attention seeking, and I really wish I did not have such a “condition” because it makes life so draining. I feel that every time I bring it up with my mom she dismisses it as “teenage stuff” and it’s so fucking irritating. If you have bothered reading this far, what do you think I should do, because I cannot continue like this.

Submitted July 26, 2020 at 08:50AM by Nutmegged69 via reddit https://ift.tt/3f8GZpS

[specialsmoke]

In need of some guidance 🙏🏼 via /r/ADHD

In need of some guidance 🙏🏼

Just realised this was probably the wrong sub to drop a huge paragraph on, but would really appreciate it if you could read to the end 🙏🏼.

The only time I can sit down for any period of time is either playing video games, or going through YouTube, and even then I rarely have the paitence to watch an entire video through. School is a nightmare, I’m constantly tapping and fidgeting, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot keep still, it feels honestly really crushing. I find motivating myself incredibly difficult. If a task will take me anything longer than a few minutes, even something I know I will enjoy, I often put it off and most of the time won’t ever actually begin it, as it feels so daunting. It dosen’t make me anxious, but simply put off, as it seems like so much effort. Many will say I am simply lazy but I can see it is more than that. Even writing this, my mind is jumping all over the place, trying to organise and articulating my thoughts is really frustrating, as I feel nobody will understand and think I’m rambling, because I can’t explain it sufficiently. I get frustrated and upset incredibly easily doing tasks that I find difficult, such as Maths homework or cognitive tests, causing me to have aggressive outbursts and often uncontrollable emotions. Even in writing this post, I am zoning out and going on autopilot. I cannot for the life of me remember dates, deadlines, if I am given an important thing to remember, I rarely remember to do it, even if it’s crucial that I do. I am so poorly organised it is honestly embarrassing, I’m sure that if you even bothered to read this it feels like a messy monologue. I have taken online assessments and it always comes up with “strong indication of ADD/ADHD” (not saying this is anything close to a diagnosis whatsoever, but could at least show an uncanny resemblance). Because many of my friends/family/teachers consider me a “smart” kid, they always think I’m slacking, and all of them say “he’s so bright but isn’t giving it his full effort” which is complete bullshit. School is so much effort it’s so mentally draining, meaning when I get home I have little motivation to partake in any hobbies. Because I am considered a “bright” student, nobody ever seems to take me serious when I bring up the possibility of me having add. And the more I read about people’s experience with ADD/ADHD, the more i think “this describes me so well”. The resemblance is shocking. The only part of it that seems to puzzle people is my age. I am 15, and I can clearly see that it’s uncanny to go this long with no diagnosis, but it’s so clear that something isn’t normal. I am in no way attention seeking, and I really wish I did not have such a “condition” because it makes life so draining. I feel that every time I bring it up with my mom she dismisses it as “teenage stuff” and it’s so fucking irritating. If you have bothered reading this far, what do you think I should do, because I cannot continue like this.

Submitted July 26, 2020 at 08:50AM by Nutmegged69 via reddit https://ift.tt/3f8GZpS