#/if/ they actually maintain that she’s swearing off romance then that would be an interesting conflict with her job

[daydreamerdrew]

Contact Comics (1944) #2

[snowangie]

the right side of rock bottom.

a rafe cameron x fem!oc series

summary : nailea boo seeks refuge from the chaos of constant family travels in the tranquil outer banks, only to find herself entangled with rafe cameron. a charismatic yet troubled figure, rafe is captivated by nailea’s mysterious allure. rafe, relentless in his pursuit and explicit in his desires, becomes fixated on making nailea his own, while nailea navigates the intricate dance of desire and restraint. in this tale of love and resilience, set against the backdrop of the outer banks, the pogues and looks, unaware of the brewing storm, find their worlds colliding. the tale weaves through the unpredictable currents of outer banks life, exploring the intertwined destinies of nailea, rafe, and the residents of this coastal haven.

series warnings: swearing, smut, violence, death, mentions of torture, mentions of sexual harassment, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, drama, violence, hurt/comfort, smut

auth. note: this series will be quite lengthy, following the actual outer banks storyline from the first season to the third. im so down bad for rafe cameron and i know u guys are too. im gonna keep his psycho ass as it is in this series because its hot asf it probably concerning to think that but idc fr. please don’t forget to interact with me in the replies or pm me and if u have any ideas for this series, any specific scene you would like to see in the coming chapters, don’t hesitate to share. hihi i love u guys and i hope u enjoy. muahhh

chapter one: baby pink convertible

The golden sunlight bathed the Outer Banks beach, casting a warm glow as Nailea Boo emerged from the crystal-clear waves, her raven-black hair clinging to her like a silken veil. Clad in a striking bikini that accentuated her curves, she epitomized the allure of an enigmatic coastal goddess. Not too far away, the Pogues—John B, JJ, Pope, and Kiara—observed her from afar, a silent conversation of curiosity passing between them.

Unbeknownst to the onlookers, Nailea wrestled with an undercurrent of anxiety that accompanied her every step. The crystal-clear waves mirrored the conflicting currents within her. She had perfected the art of the cold demeanor, a shield crafted from years of navigating a world that demanded toughness. Yet, beneath the poised exterior, anxiety churned like the unpredictable tide.

As she emerged from the waves, clad in a striking bikini that accentuated her curves, Nailea felt the weight of scrutinizing gazes. The Pogues, distant observers of her beachside ritual, couldn’t fathom the delicate balance she maintained. Each step was a careful dance between projecting strength and concealing vulnerability.

Meanwhile, on the same beach, the Kooks strolled along the shore. Rafe, Sarah, and Topper, the latter holding Sarah's hand, spotted Nailea. Rafe, ever the provocateur, couldn't resist making his presence known. “Damn, would you look at that,” he remarked, loud enough for Nailea to hear.

The Kooks exchanged glances as Nailea, unperturbed, rolled her eyes at the crude comment. Ignoring the unwelcome attention, she gracefully slipped into her clothes with an air of nonchalance, the fabric became a second skin, shielding her not only from the prying eyes but also from the relentless whispers of doubt that echoed in her mind.

Rafe, however, continued with his brazen demeanor. “Hey, sweetheart, you're gonna make this beach a whole lot prettier. What's your name?” he called out, breaking through the rhythmic sound of the waves

Nailea shot him a withering glance but remained composed. “Not interested,” she replied, her voice carrying a mixture of disinterest and disdain. Brushing off the sand from her clothes, she walked past the Kooks, not sparing them a second glance. Yet, within the fortress of her mind, a voice echoed louder—a whisper that questioned her every move, analyzing whether she had played her part convincingly enough.

As she walked past the Kooks, her mind echoed with the internal dialogue of anxiety. Her car awaited her, a symbol of sophistication and control. To the surprise of both the Pogues and the Kooks, Nailea sauntered toward a sleek baby pink convertible, the epitome of her sophistication. With an effortless poise, she slid into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life. Little did anyone know that behind the wheel, Nailea gripped it tightly, her knuckles betraying the tension within. The car roared, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake as Nailea skillfully navigated her way off the beach.

The Pogues exchanged intrigued glances, while the Kooks were left in the sand, a mix of bewilderment and newfound curiosity etched on their faces. Nailea Boo had made a memorable entrance, leaving an indelible mark on the shores of the Outer Banks.

As Nailea smoothly glided away in her baby pink convertible, the lingering echoes of Rafe's comment hung in the salty air. The Pogues huddled together, their eyes still fixed on the vanishing speck on the horizon. John B, the de facto leader, broke the silence with a raised eyebrow.

“Who the hell is that?” JJ asked, squinting against the sunlight.

Pope, ever the thoughtful one, chimed in, “New around here, for sure. But why does it feel like we just stepped into a whole different league?”

Kiara, her eyebrows knit in curiosity, observed, “Could just be a touron but I could’ve sworn I’ve seen her car a few days ago with the moving trucks.”

John B nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on the spot where Nailea's convertible had disappeared. “We need to find out who she is.”

Meanwhile, not too far away, the Kooks were left in the wake of Nailea's departure. Rafe's confident smirk remained, but Sarah shot him a disapproving look.

“Really, Rafe? That was so tacky,” Sarah remarked, her eyes narrowing.

Rafe merely shrugged, unapologetic. “Just being honest. She's a total fucking knockout.”

Topper, Sarah's boyfriend, chimed in, “She's definitely got some kind of presence. Did you see the way she handled that? Ignored us like it was nothing.”

Sarah, despite her initial irritation, couldn't help but be intrigued. “Weirdly bold. I wonder what her deal is.”

Back with the Pogues, the discussion continued as they dissected the mysterious newcomer.

“I mean, did you see her car? Who drives a pink fucking convertible around here?” JJ mused, scratching his head.

Pope, ever the voice of reason, offered, “Maybe she's just passing through. But something tells me she's here to stay, at least for a while.”

As the conversations unfolded, Nailea's departure had left an indelible mark on the dynamics of the Outer Banks. Both the Pogues and the Kooks found themselves captivated by the enigmatic stranger who had effortlessly commanded attention and defied expectations.

Nailea, reclining in the plush leather seat of her baby pink convertible, couldn't shake the lingering taste of annoyance that clung to her after the encounter on the beach. The waves of anxiety retreated, only to linger beneath the surface, ready to rise again with each new encounter. Her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, reflected a mix of indifference and disdain. The Pogues and Kooks, to her discerning gaze, seemed like mere pawns on the chessboard of her life in the Outer Banks.

The "baby pink convertible" symbolizes her, embodying sophistication, elegance, and a hint of rebelliousness. Just like the convertible stands out in the coastal landscape, Nailea is an mysterious foreign figure, distinct from the usual dynamics of the Outer Banks. The choice of a convertible reflects her ability to navigate smoothly through the intricate social landscape, while the color pink adds a touch of femininity and complexity that mirrors her naturally.

As the waves receded behind her and the beach dwindled in the rearview mirror, Nailea couldn't help but roll her eyes at the audacity of the boy who had tried to stake a claim on her attention. “Boys,” she muttered under her breath, the word carrying a blend of dismissal and amusement. To Nailea, they were like moths drawn to the flame, oblivious to the fact that they had no chance of catching it.

Arriving at her now-permanent residence, a grand beach house that exuded sophistication, Nailea exhaled a sigh of relief. The crisp sea breeze ruffled her midnight-blue hair as she strolled into the house, her annoyance dissipating with each step. The modern luxury of the interior contrasted sharply with the rawness of the Outer Banks, a juxtaposition that mirrored Nailea's own complexity.

At dinner, Nailea recounted the beach encounter to her sister, Jennie, and her brother-in-law, Tommy. They sat around a polished mahogany table, clinking wine glasses in a semblance of celebration.

“You won't believe what happened, Jennie,” Nailea began, her voice carrying a blend of exasperation and amusement.

Jennie, her older sister, chuckled knowingly. “Do tell, Nai. Did you bewitch the local boys already?”

Tommy, a man with an easy smile and a genuine affection for Nailea, joined in. “Let me guess, they fell head over heels for you?”

Nailea smirked, recounting the scene with theatrical flair. “This one guy, a big asshole, had the audacity to announce to the world that I made the beach a whole lot prettier. Please.”

Jennie laughed, raising her glass. “Well, you do have a way of leaving an impression.”

Tommy chimed in, “The Pogues and Kooks are in for a ride if they think they can compete with you, Nailea.”

Nailea, sipping her wine, smirked in agreement. “They have no idea what they're dealing with.”

The trio shared a moment of laughter, a shared understanding that the coastal drama unfolding outside their beach house was just the beginning of Nailea's reign in the Outer Banks. Little did the Pogues and Kooks know, they were playing a part in a narrative where Nailea Boo held all the cards, and the stakes were higher than they could imagine.

Under the golden hues of the Outer Banks sunset, Nailea strolled through the neighborhood at Figure Eight, an air of elegance accompanying her every step. Her sleek white cat, Winter, in a pet stroller—a stark contrast to the coastal simplicity. The feline, adorned with a silver collar, gazed out with curious green eyes as Nailea moved with the grace of a city girl navigating unfamiliar terrain.

As Nailea approached a familiar stretch of houses, she found herself just around the block from the Camerons. It was here that her path intersected with Sarah Cameron, who was out for an evening stroll of her own.

Sarah, a vision of Kook elegance, her eyes lit up at the sight of Winter in the pet stroller. “Oh, wow, your cat is adorable!” she exclaimed, a genuine smile breaking through her initial surprise.

Nailea, her eyes momentarily softening as she looked at her beloved cat, replied with a reserved acknowledgment. “Thank you. Her name's Winter.”

Sarah, finding common ground, continued the conversation. “I'm Sarah, by the way. Sarah Cameron.”

“Nailea Boo. You can call me Nai, if you want to,” she replied with a nod, her gaze cool and calculating.

Unexpectedly, the conversation flowed. The soft side of Nailea emerged as she spoke fondly of Winter, her icy exterior momentarily melting. Sarah, intrigued by Nailea's New York origins, shared tales of the privileged Kook lifestyle and the exclusive private school they attended.

As they continued their walk, Sarah extended an invitation, her eyes assessing Nailea's reaction. “There's a beach party tonight. You should come. It'll be fun.”

Nailea, maintaining her guarded demeanor, contemplated the offer. “I'll think about it,” she replied, a hint of mystery in her tone.

Sarah, seemingly unfazed by Nailea's reserved nature, smiled. “Cool. It's at the beach, obviously. Just in case you decide to show up.”

As they parted ways, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling of being both intrigued and threatened by Nailea. The New Yorker's elegance and poise posed a potential challenge to Sarah's status as the Kook princess. Still, an unspoken understanding lingered between them, a connection forged in the simplicity of a beachside conversation and the shared appreciation for a feline companion named Winter.

Sarah, choosing not to divulge their encounter to her Kook friends, felt a mix of curiosity and caution. Little did she know that Nailea's presence would continue to disrupt the carefully crafted dynamics of the Outer Banks, setting the stage for a night filled with unexpected twists at the beach party.

Nailea's arrival at the beach party sent ripples through the crowd, capturing the attention of both the Pogues and the Kooks. The pulsating beat of the music seemed to synchronize with the anticipation in the air. Nailea, clad in a skin-tight black maxi dress that accentuated her curves, moved with an otherworldly grace, her pale skin glowing in the ambient light. Her hair, in a high ponytail, cascaded down like a midnight waterfall, and her face, adorned only with a glittering lipgloss, radiated a quiet confidence.

As she ventured into the heart of the party, the chatter around her died down, replaced by hushed whispers and intrigued glances. The typical Outer Banks attire took a backseat as Nailea's unique style commanded attention. The Pogues, in their casual beachwear, exchanged wide-eyed glances, while the Kooks, draped in preppy elegance, observed her with a mix of fascination and uncertainty.

Nailea, aware of the attention she garnered, remained impervious to the external reactions. Instead, she sought solace in the rhythmic pulse of the music and the cool breeze that carried the scent of the ocean. Each step she took was deliberate, a dance of control amidst the chaos.

Sarah, standing amidst the Kooks, spotted Nailea amidst the shifting crowd. With a warm smile, she called out, “Nai!” Nailea turned, her expression momentarily softening as she acknowledged Sarah's call.

The Kooks exchanged surprised glances as Sarah approached Nailea, a subtle curiosity painting their expressions. Sarah, with an air of familiarity, introduced Nailea to the group. “Guys, this is Nailea. Nai, meet the Kooks.”

Rafe, ever the provocateur, decided to make his move. With confident strides, he approached Nailea, a crooked smile playing on his lips. The crowd parted as he reached her, his eyes locking onto hers with a boldness that rarely faced resistance.

He felt a twinge of jealousy at the seemingly instant connection between Sarah and Nailea, decided to step forward. “The mystery girl’s got a name,” Rafe drawled, his tone a blend of arrogance and charm. An attempt to join the conversation. “Hey there, Nailea. I'm Rafe Cameron, Sarah's charming brother.”

As he approached, Nailea's eyes, like two pools of mystery, met his with an unwavering gaze. The crowd hushed, sensing the collision of two forces—Rafe's brazen charisma and Nailea's enigmatic allure.

Nailea, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, regarded him with a cool gaze. “I'm well aware.”

Rafe, smirked, undeterred by Nailea's disinterest, continued, “You can call me Rafe, but I’d love it if you’d scream it out for me instead,”

Nailea rolled her eyes at that as she replied, “Rafe, huh? Noted.”

Rafe, interpreting her response as a challenge, decided to add a personal touch. “Actually, how about I call you Nai? You know, like my sister does.”

Nailea's annoyance flickered briefly again across her face. “Nai is reserved for those I permit to use it.”

Rafe, seemingly oblivious to Nailea's subtle defiance, continued his attempts at charm. “Fair enough, Nai. You’re not like the usual crowd around here. So, what brings you to our little slice of paradise?”

Nailea, her patience wearing thin, replied, “Just taking a break from the chaos of the world. Thought the Outer Banks might offer some serenity.”

Rafe, accustomed to effortless conquests, found himself intrigued by the challenge Nailea presented. He reveled in the attention, leaning in slightly. “Serenity, huh? I can assure you, things tend to get a bit wilder when I’m around.”

Nailea’s gaze remained unwavering. “I suppose we’ll see.”

The Kooks, including Topper and the others, observed the interaction with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Sarah, caught between amusement and the realization of the brewing tension, exchanged glances with the Kooks.

Meanwhile, the Pogues, stationed at a distance, watched the unfolding scene with raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. John B, the de facto leader of the Pogues, muttered, “Looks like the Outer Banks is in for a storm.”

As Rafe persisted in his attempts to engage Nailea, the atmosphere became charged with a subtle competition. Nailea, the shining new diamond in the Outer Banks, found herself at the center of attention, a target for Rafe's bold advances and the curiosity of onlooking groups.

As the night wore on at the beach party, the atmosphere became charged with the ebb and flow of conversations, laughter, and the distant crash of waves. Rafe, emboldened by the attention Nailea garnered, decided to take his flirtatious banter to the next level.

Leaning in with a cocky grin, Rafe remarked, "You know, Nai, I can imagine you being quite...pleasing in certain situations." His tone carried a not-so-subtle hint of innuendo, his words intended to provoke a reaction.

Nailea, however, remained unfazed, her expression as cool as the ocean breeze. She met his gaze with a steady, almost indifferent look, and without missing a beat, replied, "Your imagination seems to have quite the vivid spectrum, Rafe."

The Kooks, who overheard the exchange, exchanged glances. Sarah, noticing the tension, shot a disapproving look at her brother, silently signaling him to tone it down.

Undeterred, Rafe persisted with a smug grin. "Come on, Nai, don't tell me you're not the least bit curious."

Nailea, her patience wearing thin once again, simply raised an eyebrow. "Nope."

The Pogues and Kooks observed the dynamic between Rafe and Nailea, sensing a clash of personalities that transcended the usual beach party banter. Nailea, with her poised demeanor, became a fortress against Rafe's advances, navigating the social currents of the Outer Banks with a deliberate grace.

As the night progressed, Rafe's attempts at flirting with Nailea became increasingly audacious. Undeterred by her composed demeanor, he continued to pepper their conversation with suggestive remarks, seemingly determined to break through her unyielding facade.

Rafe, with a smirk that hinted at mischief, leaned in once again. "You know, Nai, there's a lot more to this town than just the scenic views. I could show you some hidden gems." His words carried an obvious undertone, implying a desire for something beyond the ordinary.

Nailea, with an arched eyebrow, responded with a measured tone, "Hidden gems, Rafe? I'm afraid I've already explored more intriguing places than you can offer."

Undeterred by her cool rebuttal, Rafe persisted. "You might be surprised, Nai. The Outer Banks can be quite... a ride.” His eyes bore into hers, a hint of mischief playing in their depths.

As Rafe continued his audacious flirtations, Nailea couldn't deny the magnetic allure he exuded. Inwardly, she admitted to herself that Rafe was undeniably hot, possessing a raw and rugged appeal that resonated with a primal attraction. His features, his confident demeanor—it was impossible to ignore the undeniable charisma that radiated from him.

However, a conflict raged within Nailea. While acknowledging Rafe's physical attractiveness, his typical boyish behavior and brazen attempts to charm her clashed with her desire for genuine connection and respect. She found herself caught in the crossfire of conflicting emotions—the pull of physical attraction and the push against his persistent advances.

As Rafe spoke about wanting to give her the time of her life in bed, Nailea's internal conflict intensified. She maintained her stoic exterior, a façade concealing the tumultuous thoughts beneath. The provocative proposition echoed in her mind, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting feelings.

On one hand, the allure of Rafe's physicality was undeniable, an instinctive response that threatened to override her calculated composure. Yet, on the other hand, his explicit comments and relentless pursuit grated against her desire for genuine connection, leaving her grappling with a sense of inner turmoil.

Nailea, determined to assert control over the narrative of her interactions in the Outer Banks, silently navigated the storm of conflicting emotions. She maintained her poised exterior while internally grappling with the complexity of desire and the need for mutual understanding.

Nailea, maintaining her poise, shot back with a retort that cut through the suggestive tension. “Surprises, Rafe, are subjective. What might thrill some could be mundane for others.”

The Kooks, including Sarah and Topper, observed the exchange with a mix of amusement and concern. Sarah shot Rafe a disapproving look, silently urging him to rein in his audacious remarks. Meanwhile, the Pogues, stationed at a distance, exchanged intrigued glances, recognizing the unfolding drama between the Outer Banks' biggest womanizer and its newest enigma.

Rafe, undeterred by the silent warnings around him, decided to up the ante. “Nai,” he whispered, his tone laden with suggestion, “I bet I could make your night more memorable than any other you've had here.”

Nailea's eyes flickered with a momentary annoyance, but she remained composed. “Your idea of memorable might not align with mine. I prefer to curate my own experiences.”

Rafe, emboldened by the atmosphere of the beach party, leaned in even closer, his words now a provocative whisper. “Nai, you're playing hard to get. I like a challenge. Let's make tonight unforgettable.”

Nailea's gaze remained steady, but a subtle tightening of her jaw hinted at the building irritation. “No thanks.”

Undeterred, Rafe pressed on with his relentless pursuit. “Come on, Nai, live a little. I promise you won't regret it.” His words lingered in the air, charged with a daring invitation.

As Rafe continued his suggestive banter, Nailea couldn't escape the subtle physical reactions her body betrayed. A warmth that crept up her skin, a quickening pulse—signs of an involuntary response to the allure of his words and his magnetic presence.

Internally, Nailea scolded herself for the physiological responses that seemed to betray her composed exterior. She chided the involuntary flush in her cheeks and the faint flutter in her stomach, reminding herself of the boundaries she had set and the desire for genuine connection over mere physical attraction.

While maintaining her outward poise, Nailea's internal monologue chastised the subtle betrayals her body exhibited. ‘Control,’ she reminded herself sternly. ‘Don't let his words and charm blur the lines you've drawn.’

The conflict within her intensified—the tug of attraction warring against her insistence on respect and understanding. Nailea found herself in a silent battle, both with Rafe's suggestive advances and her own body's response, as she navigated the intricate dance of desire and restraint in the vibrant chaos of the beach party.

Amidst the pulsating beats of the music and the lively chatter around them, Nailea confronted the internal conflict head-on. The tug-of-war between physical attraction and the need for emotional connection echoed in her mind, a private struggle unfolding beneath the surface of her composed demeanor.

As the night unfolded, Nailea's internal dialogue became a steady mantra, a reminder to maintain control and not succumb to the allure of the moment. The beach party continued, the unresolved tension creating an invisible thread that connected her to Rafe in a complex dance—one where desire and restraint battled for supremacy in the enigmatic landscape of the Outer Banks.

As Rafe persisted with his explicit innuendos, the crowd around them seemed to ebb and flow, the rhythmic beats of the music providing an unpredictable backdrop to their verbal exchange. The Kooks and Pogues, now more openly watching the drama unfold, exchanged speculative glances.

Sarah, growing increasingly uncomfortable with her brother's relentless advances, intervened. “Rafe, maybe it's time to ease up a bit.”

Rafe, however, was not one to back down easily. With a cheeky grin, he retorted, “Just trying to show Nai a good time, sis. She seems like she could use it.”

Nailea, seemingly unmoved by Rafe's persistence, decided to have the final word. “Rafe, a good time is also subjective. Your version and mine might not align. I suggest you redirect your efforts elsewhere.”

The tension between them lingered, creating a palpable energy in the air. Rafe, seemingly oblivious to the line he was treading, continued his flirtatious banter, intent on unraveling the mystery that was Nailea Boo. As the beach party unfolded, the enigmatic dance between the Outer Banks' most renowned womanizer and its new diamond continued, leaving those who witnessed it with a sense of anticipation about the uncharted territories that lay ahead.

The beach party continued, the music creating a lively backdrop to the unfolding drama. The Pogues and Kooks, each with their distinct reactions, witnessed the power play unfold—a clash of personalities that hinted at the intricate dynamics to come in the coastal haven. Nailea's stoic response to Rafe's flirtations only added to her mystique, leaving those who witnessed the exchange with a sense of anticipation about what lay beneath the surface of the mysterious newcomer in the Outer Banks.

[godsofhumanity]

You should make hestia headcanons, it has been said that Hestia has a very similar personality to Rhea

damnn i was so sure that i already made hc's for Hestia, but i think i just imagined it from reading ur ask several times since i received a year ago. anyways, sorry for the delay. i will now try and muster some hc's for Hestia:

the classic portrayal of Hestia is the reserved, quiet, "neutral", kind eldest sister of the Big 6.

honestly, this interpretation makes sense since most gods get themselves into well-known myths by having "huge" personalities. myths aren't interesting when they're about someone who doesn't do anything except smile and wave.

so, for the most part, i'm inclined to agree with the general sentiment of that characterisation.

HOWEVER, i've also read, once, an incredibly unique take on Hestia that painted her as a bit of a villain in that she's a bystander to all of the nonsense that goes on in Olympus. she's witness to the abuse, cheating, lies... and she doesn't really do anything to prevent it.

i think this "passivity" could be explained by the fact that Hestia can literally not be pulled away from her hearth. it's her primary duty. some scholars have noted that Hestia's absence from most myths is due to her having to maintain the fire. and i think that makes sense.

in my hc's, i also think it's partly because Hestia doesn't take "sides". she's for the peace.

i have a hc that Hestia was a few months old before Kronos gave in to paranoia and swallowed her... and baby gods aren't the same as baby humans, so i think perhaps she has memories (not CLEAR ones, but vague recollections of both her early joys AND fears) of what it was like before Kronos turned bad. and to her, THAT was the worst possible thing to ever occur.

so in comparison, Olympus' arguments are mere trivialities. she doesn't feel the need to interfere because she's knows that everyone will get over it.

yet, when it does come time for serious things-- e.g., Hera raising Typhon against Zeus, i think then she might step in and voice her opinions.

so, personality wise, i think Hestia is quite reserved, she's not really soft at all, she's actually quite stoic and people mistake that for indifference, but it's really just her way of keeping the peace.

another hc i have is that the siblings she gets along best with are Zeus and Hades.

for Zeus, he's the King, and the "de facto" eldest sibling. even though technically Hestia is the oldest, he sort of just acts like it, and people generally refer to him as such. i think Zeus consults Hestia on a lot of things. mostly he just talks and she listens, but on occasion, she probs has some sage advice.

with Hades, i think he has a very similar personality to her. i really love the idea of Hestia giving Hades some of her eternal flames to light up the Underworld when he is first given it as his domain... it's just something to remind him that even though he is far away from his siblings, he is still "at home" with his family, he's still connected.

the only myth i can think of where Hestia has a main role is the one where Poseidon and Apollo are vying for her hand. i honestly think Hestia would have been simply amused but not at ALL tempted by their affections. i think Apollo was very young (like the equivalent of being 17 or something) so she knew he was just being stupid and had no idea what he really wanted in life, and i'd have to imagine this was before Poseidon got married to Amphitrite, and i mean, i cannot think of any good reasons to want a relationship with Poseidon LOL.

so yeah,, i think Hestia swears off romance partly because of the trauma she has with her own father and how he treated their mother, but also because, like the other godly virgins in Olympus, having a relationship would distract her from the pivotal task of maintaining the hearth/home of the gods.

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 5 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

The next few weeks were a blur of activity.

When he wasn’t off on patrol or a mission, Mina and Kaminari kept Bakugou busy with dozens of team exercises, all of which needed your analysis. They ran him through any and every scenario that entered their brains, and after the first few rounds, Bakugou seemed to resign himself to their ministrations, his explosions no longer rattling the windows of the training room in displeasure. You’d reviewed footage of the first couple of rounds all together, the trio of heroes jammed into the tiny surveillance room with you, grimy with the ashy residue of Bakugou’s explosions, someone or another’s shirt partly melted off, and all of them looking exhausted but pleased.

Eventually, though, it became difficult for you to spare time in between your meetings with the other agency heroes. Bakugou was not helping matters by kicking the door down in the middle of your meetings and attempting to bodily remove anyone you were in conversation with whenever he wanted an update. You were dedicating almost as much time to breaking up fights and rescheduling appointments as you were to having the actual meetings themselves.

In the interest of maintaining the peace--and health and safety the Miruko agency employees--you wrote a quick script that monitored the training room footage and automatically ran your analysis program any time it keyed in on Bakugou, Mina, and Kaminari together on screen. It forwarded the results to their phones so that Bakugou wouldn’t come stalking in and making any more enemies than he already had.

That seemed to pacify him for a couple of days, and you managed almost twenty blissful meetings uninterrupted, until a Friday morning when no sooner had you flipped the lights on in the surveillance room than Bakugou was ripping the door open after you.

“Enough slacking off, nerd,” he growled, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely menacing manner. It was early but he looked wide awake, maybe a little mussed like he'd already been training, the same combination of annoyingly handsome and intimidating as always. He was also dressed in some variation of his usual training set, dark fabric clinging to his chest, arms bare. The sight was really way too much for this early in the morning.

His sudden entrance startled you out of a yawn, and you just barely managed to catch your laptop before it slipped through your fingers.

“Good morning?” you hedged, looking up at him in apprehension.

He made an angry, dismissive noise. Before you could dredge up enough energy for a proper eye roll, something small and warm was thrust unceremoniously into your chest, briefly winding you.

You looked down at the item he was attempting to fracture your sternum with and found yourself staring at a white takeout cup.

You looked up at him in confusion but he just glared passively until you looked down again.

“....what is this?” you asked. Your hands raised automatically to take the cup from him.

“Battery acid,” Bakugou said.

You stopped, gaping at him, and he rolled his eyes. “The fuck do you think it is, idiot?” he demanded, gesturing at it forcefully.

You looked down at the cup again, a soft swirl of steam issuing from the opening in the cap. You brought it hesitantly to your face. A cursory sniff revealed very little in the way of poison--not that you had much expertise on the subject--but it did smell suspiciously like the house blend from the nice bakery down the street.

You stared at Bakugou with misgiving. “What is this, actually?”

He made a disbelieving noise. “You spend all this time acting like such a smartass and you don’t even know what a fucking coffee is? The fuck do you think you drink every morning?”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. There was absolutely no way Bakugou Katsuki was bringing you coffee. This had to be some kind of trick.

His threats from a few weeks ago floated to the forefront of your mind. I’m going to win the bet, he’d said, and then you’re in for it. Was this part of "in for it"? What was “it”, exactly, and was it likely that “it” entailed poisoning you in broad daylight in the middle of a hero agency?

The offing you in broad daylight seemed very much his style, but poison seemed a roundabout way to do it. No, if he was going to settle a score with you, it was going to be something much more immediate, and probably obnoxiously flashy.

You brought the cup to your mouth, taking a tentative sip. No acid tang of poison met your tongue, only the rich, buttery taste of the coffee. Though arsenic was said to be flavorless... Damn that was good, though.

Bakugou hovered impatiently, like he was waiting for something, wearing a strangely blank expression. You watched him nervously. Was the poison slow acting or something?

His scarlet gaze locked onto yours, and it suddenly hit you what he must be doing. You almost dropped the coffee. Was he...waiting for a thank you? As in, he was aware of and actively acknowledging that he’d just done something for you?

You decided to test the waters. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

He made an impatient clicking noise. “Fucking took you long enough.”

You frantically schooled your features into a mask that betrayed nothing of your shock. Christ, he was serious. He’d actually brought you a coffee, and he knew it was a nice thing to do? There was no way he was doing this just to do this. He had to want something from you.

“...So, what is it that you’re bribing me for?” you asked.

Bakugou’s face went dark, the tips of his ears strangely pink. “Fuck you. I don’t need to fucking bribe you for shit, with your obvious little crush on me.” He took a threatening step closer, and that familiar scent of gunpowder and caramel filled your nose.

You felt your face heat, your heart jumping into your mouth. Not this shit again.

So, it was absolutely true that you had a lot of trouble detaching your eyes from the width of his biceps, and that your brain ran wild loops every time he was close. But just because you had difficulty looking anywhere else when he was in a room, didn't mean you had a crush on him. He was way too much of a brat and it was exhausting trying to keep up with his weirdly intense personality. Just because he was pretty did not mean you had a thing for him...

“Why are you like this?” you complained, edging away from him as he moved nearer.

He smirked knowingly, taking another step closer. A small, traitorous shiver went up your spine at the thrill of a man so close. To your eternal embarrassment, Bakugou’s keen gaze seemed to catch it, a darker smile curling his mouth.

You opened your mouth to make some kind of excuse--though what you would have come up with was completely beyond you--when a head of wild pink curls poked itself through the door.

The intruder let out a quiet gasp, but that was enough to break the moment. Bakugou whirled on her, red eyes glaring.

“Raccoon, do you ever mind your own fucking business?” he demanded, in the tones of someone interrogating a war criminal.

Mina’s dark eyes widened innocently. “What? How was I supposed to know this is where you’d gone?” she asked. There was note of something gloating in her voice, however, and you got the feeling that she’d been hoping to catch you in some kind of act.

Your face went hotter. Why did everyone think there was a thing with you and Bakugou, including, apparently, Bakugou?

“Anyway, I’m not here for you,” Mina informed him briskly, derailing your wandering train of thought. “I was gonna ask stats girl to give us a hand this morning.”

She turned to you, her smile slightly predatory. “Blasty’s better at sticking close now, so we started focusing team exercises on victim evaluation. Any chance you can play civilian? Denki was for a bit but he started getting too into it.” A grimace flitted over her pretty features. “I almost lost an arm trying to stop Katsuki from blasting him clear into the stratosphere.”

You looked at Bakugou, but an irritated twitch of a blonde eyebrow was all you got by way of an explanation.

Your thoughts turned inward, wondering if this was a good idea. You’d been hoping to use the morning to get a little work done on a prototype of a productionized model, seeing as you had fewer meetings than usual today. And you hadn’t really come prepared for a potential roll around in the dirt and dust of the city simulation training spaces.

As if sensing your hesitation, Mina chirped, “I’ll let you a spare set of my training clothes so yours don’t get dirty! And you would probably be saving Denki’s life here--don’t you owe him one from the Hero Awards?”

Your gaze cut back to Bakugou without any direction from your brain. Bakugou appeared to be making no attempt to look apologetic about the incident at the Awards. He raised an eyebrow in challenge when your look lingered too long for his liking, red eyes narrowing in on you with a sudden heat. “The fuck are you looking at, nerd?”

“He means please,” Mina said, her voice going honeyed and wheedling. “Plus, it will be fun! I promise you I won’t melt any of your body parts off. Just Blasty’s, I swear.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes stayed firmly attached to Bakugou’s face. His mouth twitched in obvious irritation at the implication that he would ever say please, but he made no move to correct Mina, limbs drawn in tight, defensive.

You looked down at the cup in your hand, sighing. He’d brought you a coffee and was doing minimal yelling. He appeared to be making some kind of effort here--though to what end you weren’t sure--and you supposed contributing to his training was ultimately your goal here, anyway. You could reward him for behaving himself as well as he knew how, and work towards your promotion at the same time.

“Fine,” you allowed, watching as Mina startled wiggling in obvious delight. “Let me finish this coffee and then I’ll help out.”

Mina clapped her rosy palms together. “Ahh! This is going to be so fun! You’ll see.”

Mina’s definition of fun was any civilian’s definition of fucking terrifying.

It was one thing to see the three heroes using their powers on screen, or safely tucked away behind a meter of quirk-enforced glass. It was another thing entirely to be in the center of the action, acid sizzling mere inches from your feet.

“You said you wouldn’t melt anything off!” you shouted, stumbling away from Mina.

She’d accused Kaminari of getting too into playing civilian--whatever that meant--but you thought she was way too into playing villain herself. A hard look passed over her pretty features, sending a chill down your spine. With that dark look, those unusual eyes and twisted horns took on a more sinister nuance. She looked almost like an alien, and moved like one too, stalking you through the twisting alleys of the training cityscape.

“Accidents happen,” she cooed, almost happily. She threw up a twisting fistful of acid that hardened into a warped wall in front of you. You skidded wildly on the gravel to avoid it. “Now stay still, you’re supposed to be a hostage.”

A choked little noise escaped you. Honestly, thank god this woman was a hero. You might have trouble sleeping at night if you knew a villain like this was stalking the streets, unchecked and unbound by social mores. You’d probably still have trouble getting to sleep tonight, even after she went back to smiling and bouncing all over the place.

“Actually, maybe Kaminari should take over again,” you managed, stepping back from her. “Not really sure if I’m cut out for this.”

A loud boom drowned out her reply, an office front a few blocks away crumbling under the force of the blast. You gaped at the force that shook the street, even blocks away.

Mina used your distraction to her advantage, grabbing the back of your shirt to haul you towards her. “He’s so obvious, my god--how he got to be number eight is beyond me. Now come over here and do your best to look injured. He needs practice evacuating people instead of coming in blasting.”

She fumbled with something on her belt, pulling out several bright red bands that proclaimed various types of injuries in blocky white font. Then she leaned over you, shoving a band up your arm that announced SEVERE BURNS, and another on your left ankle, proclaiming a DISLOCATION.

She clicked her tongue, looking you over. “Would more be overkill? This is enough that he should at least hesitate before trying to blow me sky high…” She seemed to decide against more, shoving the rest back into her belt. Then she gently pressed you down to the ground at her feet.

“This is the part where I get to monologue,” she said, winking down at you. “Do your best to look helpless and make sure your severe burns thing is showing. I wanna see if he can prioritize rescuing you over my trash talk.”

A soft groan escaped you. Fat chance. Bakugou was the most foul tempered little shit you had ever met, and while it was true that his single-minded focus on winning the bet meant he was tolerant enough to be doing this exercise in the first place, you highly doubted he was going to hesitate if Mina was pushing his buttons as expertly as she usually did.

The chance to find out came soon enough. There was a strangled kind of yelp and a crackle of lightning followed a thunderous boom a few blocks away as Bakugou presumably rendered Kaminari’s perimeter defense useless. Then with another screaming explosion, he was rocketing over the buildings separating you, barrelling straight down on Mina.

Mina threw up another acid shield that hardened into a defensive wall. Bakugou’s first attack cracked it but didn’t manage to penetrate. There was barely a breath between the cracking and another explosion, however, and then the wall exploded inwards in a crackling shower of fizzing pieces. Mina crouched over you, breathing excitedly, “This is the fun part!”

Whatever reply you might have given her was drowned out by an angry series of hissing snaps from Bakugou’s palm as he stalked closer to you. The right half of his shirt had been singed off by lightning, it looked like, and a fine veneer of dust layered in his hair and on patches of his skin. It was just a training simulation, but he looked half-wild, teeth bared and eyes bright over the ash on his face. If he looked nearly this intense in real life situations, it was a wonder that anyone would agree to be evacuated by him at all.

Maybe that’s why he sucked at rescues.

“It’s fucking over, raccoon eyes,” he said. “Hand her over.”

Mina laughed, a delicate sound like bells. “Not another step closer, hero, or I’ll melt a hole straight through her pretty neck.”

You twitched away from her minutely. God she was terrifying.

“Quit it with the fucking villain act, fuckwad, or I’ll blow you all the way to hell,” Bakugou growled.

Mina reached for your arm, pulling you up next to her. “Hmm, then I hope your aim is good. She’s already got one set of severe burns.”

Bakugou’s crimson gaze cut down to your shoulder and the displeased twist to his mouth deepened. “Fucking--of course you got yourself fucking injured. Fucking idiot.”

“Hey,” you protested, shifting against the band. “I’m not actually.”

Mina kicked you. “Moments to live, this one. Unless you can pull a healing quirk out of those glorious buttcheeks of yours.”

You choked on your own spit while Bakugou snarled. “I’m gonna fucking remember this, you strawberry fuck.”

“Maybe. But she won’t,” Mina said, and suddenly there was a rosy palm in front of your face, dripping acid. A drop landed deliberately on the fold of the training pants she’d lent you, searing straight through with a loud hiss. Your heartbeat spiked in violent alarm. You reeled back, but Mina was still crouched over you, and you banged into her collarbone.

In the next second, everything went to shit. Something searing hot blazed just over your shoulder and Mina swore, jerking back from you in the blink of an eye. There was a deafening crack and a rush of burning air over you as Bakugou let loose an explosion at the same time he seized your ankle and pulled you straight underneath where he’d aimed the blast, missing you by inches.

“What the fuck,” you gasped. Bakugou grunted, and yanked harder, pulling you straight to him.

“Quit being such a fucking princess,” he growled, shifting an arm underneath you. You froze, suddenly wishing that his explosion had managed to hit you, searing off every nerve ending.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, sputtering in alarm when he hoisted you against him. You could feel every place your body touched his, and smell the sharp gunpowder and sugar scent of his sweat. He hooked his arm firmly around your waist, glaring down at you with one baleful red eye.

“Fuckstick gave you a dislocated ankle so I would have to fight her off with one fucking arm and carry you with the other,” he bit out, whirling when a stream of acid came hissing your way.

You gripped at his shirt, swearing. “Oh my god. What the hell is she doing, aiming for me? This is a simulation! Also, I can walk.”

He grunted. “You can shut the fuck up is what you can do.”

He executed another agile dodge, pulling you with him. “Now hold on, princess, this is gonna be a rough ride with one arm.”

You didn’t have time to ask him what the hell he was on about. He aimed a shot over your shoulder, the heat simmering and boiling in the air next to your ear, and you heard the impact of Mina hitting the pavement behind you. In the next second, Bakugou tightened his arm around you, and aimed a palm for the ground.

The next thing you were aware of was a strangled screaming sound. It took a second for you to realize the mortifying noise was coming from you. But in your defense, Bakugou had literally blasted the two of you clear above the alleyway. You could see the wreckage from Bakugou’s scuffle with Kaminari, and Mina scrambling to her feet, much smaller and further away that you were comfortable with. Your hands fisted in his shirt and you nearly decapitated him with the force with which you shoved your face into his shoulder.

Even with your eyes closed, you could tell Bakugou hadn’t been kidding about the rough ride. Another blast from his palm jerked you sharply to the right, and he uttered a soft swear.

“Hold tight, nerd,” he said in your ear. There was a series of more explosions and you spun violently in the opposite direction. You went careening over a low roof top to land heavily on the pavement, Bakugou twisting at the last second to take the initial impact to his shoulder, rolling over you to distribute the momentum.

You rolled twice more, eventually stopping with his hard body under yours, your face jammed unpleasantly into his shoulder, his arms bracketing your sides. One of his hands was fisted in the back of your shirt, and a tuft of blonde hair brushed your cheek.

He let out a huff. “If you ever let her put the fucking dislocation band on you again, I’ll melt your damn laptop.”

You pulled back from him, hissing into his face. “If you dare, I'll--”

“The fuck you gonna do, nerd?” he demanded, sitting up. Straight into you.

You gripped his shirt so as not to fall right off of him, widening your knees for balance. Then you froze when you realized he was pressed against you everywhere, hard muscle and the heat of his skin bleeding through your training clothes. He was hot like a furnace, ashy and dust-streaked like one too, and his eyes glowed like banked coals. He gazed back at you, his mouth setting with some kind of a challenge.

Then those red eyes trailed slowly and deliberately down your face, stopping right on your mouth. His fingers tightened in the back of your shirt.

You couldn’t help your sharp inhale. Holy shit, was he...going to kiss you?

You sat frozen, locked in place, neither willing or able to move away, like you were being pulled towards him like some kind of magnet. Was he really going to do it? Was he really going to kiss you? Or, no...were you going to kiss him?

You could, you thought hysterically. That’s what it felt like, watching him breathe shallowly, eyes fixed on your mouth. You could kiss him and he would let you.

Had that been what all the your little crush on me shit had been about? Had he been torturing you not because he’d noted the way your eyes lingered over him, but because it was something he’d wanted to happen? Had that been what all the threats were for, what the crowding you against walls and the frigging coffee had been about? When Mina had said he’d been fixated on you, did she actually mean it less like revenge and more like actual attraction?

You let out a shaky breath. Only one way to find out, you thought wildly, leaning forward with your pulse singing in your veins.

And then an explosion rocked the foundations of the building, throwing you forward against Bakugou’s chest. You gasped, the breath knocked out of you, and whipped around to glare at his free hand in accusation. Bakugou pulled you back, however, a hard looking passing over his face.

It was only seconds before Mina and Kaminari came scrambling out of the maze of training buildings, looking worried. Kaminari was already crackling with static, agitated whips of lighting zipping across his skin. Bakugou's palm started to grow hotter against your back.

His next words threw the situation into sharp clarity.

“That wasn’t from a training room.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Interview with the Mandalorian

Pairing: Mandalorian x Female Reader

Rating: T (future parts will be Mature/Explicit)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of prior violence against the reader (not described in detail)

Summary: The Mandalorian has placed a want ad for childcare and you decide to answer it. Despite having a questionable past, he decides to hire you.

Word Count: ~5400

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in a multi-part story of Mando and childcare reader. I love romance so expect lots of fluff, but there will also be some humor, action, and angst, and eventually smut. I’m going for more of a slow burn here -- or at least trying to if I don’t get too impatient.

Link to Chpt. 2

Gif by @bestintheparsec (Thank you! You're awesome 😁)

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Wanted: Childcare Professional

Caregiver needed for toddler for all basic baby needs. Single father with demanding job, odd hours. Position requires living on starship. Looking for someone not squeamish and good in a crisis. Preferred skills: cooking, pre-school teaching, and first aid. Bonus skills: combat training or ability to repair pre-Imperial tech. Interviews at Cantina Manolita, ask for the Mandalorian.

You re-read the want ad as you headed out to the cantina. It started out normal enough, not squeamish was a little odd, yet understandable, but then, good in a crisis and combat training as a bonus skill? Exactly what type of toddler does this Mandalorian have? Still, it’s not like you can afford to be picky, what with your past. You’d been bouncing around from odd job to odd job, each one more terrible than the last. Your most recent job had been cleaning rooms at a very seedy no-tell hotel and after that, you’d rather change 1000 poopy diapers than go back there. Despite your education and years of experience, no one wants to hire someone with the stain of the Empire on their resume. Your only hope is that the Mandalorian who placed this ad will be willing to hear you out and with a bit of luck you won’t have too much competition for the job. Many people are wary of Mandalorians, so perhaps that will keep the candidate pool small. You’re secretly intrigued by the idea of working for one, as all you really know is that they are respected warriors who either stick together in tight groups with other Mandalorians or they work alone. You wonder why this Mandalorian is seeking outside help, must be a special circumstance.

Din watches as a woman in a short red cocktail dress, platform heels, and quite a lot of makeup saunters through the cantina. It’s a lot of look for mid-morning and he’s surprised when she heads straight to his table, leans down to give him a generous view of her cleavage, and coos at him, “You must be the Mando who placed the ad.”

“The ad for childcare? Yes.” Din emphasizes the word to be certain she’s answering the correct posting.

“Yep! That’s why I’m here, baby.” She winks at him and plops herself down in his booth, ignoring the chair placed directly across from him. Baby? He’s a bit taken aback, but he figures he should at least ask her some questions about the job.

“Do you have any experience caring for children?” He begins.

“Well, not exactly for children, but I am very, very caring. I’m sure I can take really good care of you… both.” She flutters her eyelashes at Din.

“So, if you don’t have any experience, why are interested in this job?” He feels like this is a fair question, especially since he was hoping to find someone more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to younglings.

“I just have so much love and I want to share it. Especially for someone who needs me, hot stuff.” The woman has been sliding closer to Din as she speaks. He tries to move away from her to keep some space between them, but with the child napping on the end of the booth next to him, he really has nowhere to go.

“Uh, ok, do you have any experience with teaching?” This interview is not off to a good start, but what if she’s the only one who shows up?

“Oh, I’m a real good teacher,” the woman replies, and then drops her hand onto his thigh just above the beskar plate and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” she says suggestively.

“We’re done here. I need childcare, not, whatever it is you’re offering.” Din lifts her hand off his leg abruptly, scoops up the child, and quickly moves himself across the cantina to another table. Who shows up to a childcare interview to hit on the father? He’s annoyed at her for wasting his time. He sees the woman pouting and then watches as she gets up with a little stumble, calls out, “Your loss” in his direction and heads to the bar. Under the helmet he rolls his eyes; the next person has to be better than her.

Din has become increasing fatigued and desperate for some help as he takes care of his foundling and searches for information on the Jedi. That alone would be plenty to keep him occupied, but he’s still hunting down bounties too in order to keep them in credits for all the fuel they’re burning up as they traverse the galaxy. Although he’s been able to keep the kid with him all the time so far, it’s not easy to hunt with a baby along for the ride, and he wishes he had someone he could trust to stay with the little one on the ship, keeping him safe and hidden away. After all, they’re still on the run from the ex-Imps and other hunters. Oh, and not to mention, Din is still dodging New Republic officers for that mess on the prison ship. No wonder he’s exhausted.

Sighing lightly, he reminds himself that he’s going to find the help he needs today when he sees a young woman, much more conservatively dressed, giving him furtive glances across the cantina. Din gives her a little nod, and she makes her way over to the table, but she barely takes her eyes off the ground as she does so.

“Are you interested in the childcare job?” Din asks, hopefully.

“Y-yes, I’m h-here to interview.” She seems extremely nervous and can’t seem to bring herself to look at his visor for more than a moment. “I l-like children, um, I have done, um, a lot of b-babysitting.”

“That’s good,” Din says softly, trying to put her at ease, “Can you tell me more about what you did as a babysitter?”

Looking down at the table, she replies shakily, “W-watching them, um oh, I don’t know, uh playing games, making snacks, um just, um, helping, I guess?”

Maker, she’s so uncomfortable, Din wonders what he can say to help her calm down or if it’s worth it to continue the interview. How is she going to handle their situation, if she’s this nervous at the interview? Before he can think of anything to say, the baby pops his head up suddenly to investigate what’s going on, startling the poor woman so badly she jumps up from her chair.

“Aah!” She lets out a little cry and then stammers, “I-I- I think this was a bad idea. I c- can’t do this.” and runs off.

Din sighs; maybe the third time will be the charm, isn’t that what they say?

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find someone.” He says to the child’s inquisitive expression.

Din has the feeling of being watched and turns to see a well-dressed man hovering near the cantina’s entrance. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, with sort-of a schoolteacher aura about him, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see Din. The man stares at him for a moment over a pair of owlish spectacles as if assessing the situation and then finally approaches Din’s table.

“I am here to interview for the childcare position, but I want to be very clear that I am an experienced and sought-after professional.” The man declares to Din in a stern voice.

“I’m looking for a childcare professional, please sit down.” At least this one is experienced and looks like he understands the position.

“I must tell you I am a strict believer in order and discipline when it comes to children, and I do not abide any shenanigans.” The way this man speaks makes Din feel like he’s back in school and he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Din clears his throat, “Perhaps you can tell me about your experience.” The man rattles off a list of schools and families where he has worked; stressing certain names as if Din should be impressed, which perhaps he would if he recognized any of them. Din doesn’t care for the fact that this man keeps emphasizing words like prominent or respected as he speaks of his past, it sounds haughty and snobbish. This guy may have a lot of experience, but his frosty demeanor is off-putting. Still, Din can’t deny that he’s the best candidate so far.

“How do you feel about living on a starship?” Din asks him.

“If the ship is in good working order and the facilities are well maintained, I am sure it will be adequate.” He says the last word as if adequate means appalling, indicating that Din’s home is not an ideal living situation. Din feels his optimism dwindle yet again, as this fussy man will likely turn his nose up at the Razor Crest before he even has a look inside.

“What is that?” The man asks brusquely. Din follows his line of sight and realizes the child has climbed up on his chair again wanting to be a part of the conversation. The man’s tone of voice is irritating, but Din restrains himself as he says, “That is the child.”

“That thing is your child?” He has a look of mild disgust on his face. Suddenly this man’s illustrious qualifications don’t matter to Din at all.

“Thank you for coming, but I don’t believe you’re suited for this position.” Din tells the man, trying to match his haughty tone from before. The man lets out a little ‘hmpf’ but then gets up and leaves the table.

“I’m sorry, kid, I know he was bad.” Din sighs again, “We’ll keep trying.” He despairs that he’s in for a full day of bad meetings, when he glances across the cantina to see a beautiful woman looking in his direction. He gives her a nod in greeting, but he’s afraid to hope that she might actually be here for him. However, she smiles warmly at him and starts towards their table. He feels his heart skip a beat; damn, she’s pretty. He watches her as she moves confidently through the crowd noting that she appears courteous to the others around her and Din thinks maybe his luck is turning.

“Good morning! Are you the Mandalorian who placed the want ad for childcare?” You ask with what you hope is a winning smile on your face.

“Ah, yes, I am. Are you here to interview?” Din feels a surge of optimism; you seem composed and he already likes you much better than the other people he’s spoken to today.

“Yes, I hope you haven’t filled the position yet?” you ask him.

“No, not yet. Please sit down.” He gestures to the open chair across from him. “Can you tell me a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job?”

You start to introduce yourself expressing a keen interest in children and briefly mention your training and experience as a teacher, when you notice two little green hands gripping the edge of the table next to the Mandalorian. Slowly a small green head covered in soft white peach fuzz lifts up to reveal two shining dark eyes and a pair of giant pointy ears.

“Oh my goodness,” you breathe out in delight, “aren’t you the most adorable child in all the galaxy?” You cannot control yourself from fussing over this little one. You really are a pushover for cute kids, but this one is beyond precious. The child smiles at your words and lets out a happy cooing sound. Totally entranced, you make goofy smiley faces back at him causing him to giggle while you completely forget that you are supposed to be doing an interview right now.

Din watches your face as it transforms itself from an expression of polite professional interest to a look of absolute adoration. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at the child, your smile is positively beaming, and you’ve clasped your hands together at your chest in utter delight. It’s like watching someone fall in love all in one instance. He feels that he could ask you to do anything for the child and you would. He reaches over and picks up the little one drawing your attention back to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just, he’s so cute, um, what was I saying?” You quickly turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian, trying to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be impressing him with your childcare skills not going ga-ga over his son.

“It’s ok, he is cute.” Din responds amiably, this interview is already off to a better start than the others. You seem like a genuine person to him, someone who makes friends easily, who would be pleasant to have around. “You were telling me about your teaching experience.”

“Yes, yes, so my most applicable experience is my time as a pre-school assistant teacher. I worked there when I was earning my degree in Linguistics and Language Teaching at the main university on Riosa. I always loved that job so much and have really wanted to work with children again.” Oops, first mistake, mentioning Riosa is risky, he has to know of the Empire’s former presence there.

“So did you work with many toddlers at the pre-school?”

“Oh yes, so many toddlers. I’m very good at keeping them entertained with games and stories. I know how to set limits and help them learn about rules. Oh, and I also know how to make many snacks and meals that little children love.”

“He does seem to always want to eat, so that would be helpful.” The Mandalorian chuckles a little at that and gives the child a pat on his head.

“I also understand that children can be messy and I’m really good at cleaning and doing laundry too.” You try to think of what else you can say to show that you’re a good option for him. But before you can, he changes the topic.

“So Linguistics? That’s an impressive choice of studies.” He nods his head as if he approves.

“Thank you, I specialized in language structure and syntax. I speak Rodian, Naboo, Sy Bisti, and some Ubese too.” You hope you don’t sound like you’re bragging but none of your recent employers have been interested in your language skills in the slightest. It’s nice to hear that he thinks it’s notable and you do want to impress him if you can.

“Also impressive. All languages of commerce or politics. That’s very practical.” Again, he sounds like he values these skills. “But you don’t have a career in linguistics now? I would think someone with that background wouldn’t be interested in taking care of a toddler.”

“I truly do love children, and well, things don’t always go as you plan, do they?” You were really hoping to answer more questions about childcare or first aid or really anything else, but it looks like you’re going to have to get to the touchy part of the interview. The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to explain.

“When I finished my degree, I was invited to join a prestigious research group. I thought it was an incredible opportunity, a chance to work with professors and other academics. I had to take several difficult qualifying exams before they even offered me the position, and when I did so well on them, everyone I knew was very impressed. I really thought I was going to do something fantastic. I found out too late that the research group was just a front and really it was part of Imperial Intelligence. I had been living in my happy academic bubble, I knew the Empire was on Riosa but they never paid any attention to the university, and I was too naïve to realize I had been recruited to be a code-breaker.”

You pause there, internally cringing again at your stupidity, and wondering if you should continue or if he is going to end the interview right now. While he’s sitting more rigidly than before, he gives no indication that he wants you to stop, so you decide to plow ahead with your story.

“For a while, I tried to be terrible at the job, pretending that I couldn’t break the codes, that they were too complex for me. I hoped they would think they made a mistake and let me leave, but they saw through the ruse. They punished me, and I knew I had to start doing better or they would likely kill me. So I did what I was told, but only about a third of the time. The rest of the time, I would purposely leave out crucial information from the messages I broke. Or sometimes I would just change it completely. I tried to be strategic and do it without a pattern so they wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing. Eventually though one of the other code-breakers figured out my secret and he turned me in.”

You pause again at the memory of that betrayal. You had thought that Kerrick cared for you. You quickly look up to avoid any tears springing to your eyes and take a calming breath.

“What happened next?” The Mandalorian asks you.

“I was punished again, more severely than the first time. I suppose I was fortunate though, because they deemed I was too valuable an asset to terminate. They didn’t send me back to code-breaking. Instead, they forced me to teach Sy Bisti to a class of officers. It’s one of the languages their droids couldn’t translate. I didn’t try to make trouble again. I didn’t think they would give me a third chance.”

Din watches you carefully as you tell him of your experience with the Imperials. The expression on your face and the way your shoulders have slumped tell him that you’re ashamed of what happened to you. That you feel responsible and likely blame yourself for having been tricked by them. Din doesn’t see it that way though. From his perspective, you were simply a young woman who was manipulated and then abused by a corrupt system.

“Can you start today?” You snap your head up in surprise.

“What? I- I mean yes, I can, but-” you stumble over your words, “You- you want to hire me?”

“Yes. The child likes you and you’re the best person for the job.” He’s very straightforward about it.

“You’re sure? Even with the Empire stuff?” Your words sound lame to your own ears, but you need to be certain he won’t hold it against you.

He gives you a brisk nod. “You were brave to try to sabotage their intelligence, but also not too much of a fool to get yourself killed.” He’s blunt but his words are a comfort to you in a way.

That seems to be all he is going to say on the matter, as next he tells you about the living conditions on his ship. He explains carefully about his creed and the fact that you can never see him without his helmet. That isn’t a surprise though as it’s one of the only other facts you already knew about the Mandalorians. Besides, after spending time with so many helmeted Imps, it honestly doesn’t seem that odd to you. At least you’ll know this helmet doesn’t plan to kill you. You arrange to meet him in a couple hours at his ship after you’ve had a chance to pack your things. You’re so elated to find someone who wants to hire you for a decent job and who doesn’t loathe you for your past that you completely forget to ask him about the need for combat training.

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

As you’re packing up your meagre belongings it occurs to you that you didn’t ask him anything about himself or really much about the child at all. You realize you don’t even know their names. Maybe you should slow down and find out more about this Mandalorian and his son, but honestly you’re willing to take the risk. You’re sick of this awful city and the terrible jobs you’ve been forced to take here. At least you know that the Mandalorians were enemies of the Empire, so that’s a bonus in your eyes. Besides from the job description in the ad, it seems like this Mandalorian has to be at work a lot so you’ll probably be alone with the child most of the time. You’ve never seen a species like the child before, but you’re willing to learn all about him so you can be successful at this job. You gather up your bags, leave a few credits for the landlord, and head to the hanger, enthusiastic about a new life.

Din is watching as crates of supplies are loaded onto the Razor Crest, and he thinks about his new hire. From the moment he saw your reaction to the kid, he knew he was going to offer you the job. His only concern is his own attraction to you, and, he has a little nagging guilt that he didn’t explain anything to you about the dangerous aspects of the job. If you knew the Imps were after the child, would you still be willing to take the job? Din knows he’ll have to tell you about that, but maybe he’ll wait until the Crest is in hyperspace before he does. Yeah, it’s underhanded, but he doesn’t have the time or the patience, quite frankly, to try to find other childcare. Plus, there’s a good chance your knowledge of the Empire will be helpful to him. Din hopes you won’t hate him too much for withholding information. He sees you enter the hanger, and once again you smile when you see him. Din’s pleased that you don’t seem intimidated or fearful. So many people look at him with trepidation or dislike, and although he’s learned to ignore it, when someone actually smiles at him, it’s such a pleasant change. Besides, you have a pretty smile.

“Hello again!” You call out to the Mandalorian, as you make your way towards him. Seeing him standing next to his ship, you’re suddenly struck by what an imposing figure he is in all that armor. He’s quite tall and obviously very strong. A whisper of an emotion runs through you, almost like desire, but it’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like that you can’t really place it. You forget all about it though when the little green toddler spies you and immediately runs right for you with a happy face. You drop your bags and crouch down, holding your arms out to him and scoop him up when he reaches you.

“Hello, buddy! Are you excited to have a new nanny? I’m excited to be here.” You tell him cheerfully as you give him a hug. You stand up again to address the Mandalorian, who’s come over to help with your bags. “I’m sorry, I was so happy to get the job earlier, I completely forgot to ask the child’s name.”

“That’s ok.” He tells you. “I don’t, um, I don’t actually know his name.”

“Beg your pardon?” He doesn’t know his son’s name. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t help but give him an odd look.

“He’s a foundling. I rescued him.” The Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate. You remind yourself that you don’t know much about Mandalorian culture, so maybe that is typical for them. He hasn’t told you his name either.

“Well, what do you call him?” You look down at the little one in your arms.

He shrugs as if it isn’t important, “Kid, pal, womp rat,” he supplies, and in anticipation of your next question he says, “You can call me Mando.”

“Alright.” So, no names then, that’s different, but whatever works for him.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” Mando offers picking up your bags.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry those, I can get them.” He just gestures with his helmet for you to go ahead, so you head up the ramp into your new home.

The child babbles to you as if explaining things as you look around the hull of the spacecraft. It’s very utilitarian, but you figured it would be, Mandalorians don’t strike you as the types to think of creature comforts as a priority. The little one babbles at you again and extends an arm towards a section of the hull where you can see what looks like a mattress covered with a blanket and pillows that look new and unused. The Mandalorian comes up behind you and says, “Like I said before there’s only one bunk in the ship, but I thought this would work for you?” He sets your bags down next to the bed.

“This will be fine.” You’ve slept in much worse places, your cell in the Imperial Intelligence compound springs to mind. In any case, it’s nice to know that he’s thought to provide this for you. Other employers you’ve had would probably just make you sleep on the floor.

Din takes you on a brief tour of the ship, mostly making sure you know where the essentials are. He keeps waiting for you to make a comment about the ship’s age or make a joke about it being a clunker like everyone else does. But you surprise him, as you simply take it all in with a pleasant expression on your face. Although when he gets to the weapons locker, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He realizes that he hasn’t told you what he does for a living, “I’m a bounty hunter, and weapons are part of my religion.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it makes sense you’d have a cache like this then.” You give him a nod, as if to say this seems completely normal, even though you’ve never seen so many weapons outside of a military facility. However, if it’s part of his religion the last you thing you want to do is insult him about it.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Mando inquires.

“Yes, I do. I had to take a course on marksmanship at the university.” You wince again at your innocence back then. A college that requires a course on shooting? No wonder it had been a recruitment ground for the Empire.

“Did you pass?” Mando wants to know.

“With high marks,” you reply, ever the top-notch student.

“Good. Do you have a blaster?”

“Uh no.”

Mando turns back to the locker and considers it before choosing one of the smaller guns in there. He hands it to you saying, “Here, this one should be good for you. But let me know if you think something else would be better suited for you.”

“You think I’m going to need a blaster to care for the child?” You try to keep from sounding incredulous as you stare down at the gun that he’s placed in your hand and then back at the sweet toddler who’s currently propped up against your hip.

“No, of course not, but you’ll need to be prepared when we’re off the ship.” He seems very matter-of-fact about it.

“Prepared for what?” Where does this man plan on taking you?

“Just, prepared.” Is all he says in response.

The baby makes grabby hands towards the blaster and you carefully hold it away from him. “Can I keep it in the locker for now?” you ask feeling a little uneasy. You might know how to shoot, but you’ve only ever aimed at targets in a shooting range and the idea of having to use a blaster for protection is frankly terrifying. What have I gotten myself into? Will I never learn?

“Yes, just remember to take it with you whenever you leave the ship.” Din stows the blaster away again and then says, “We should get going now,” and motions for you to head up the ladder to the cockpit. He probably should have waited to give you the blaster until later. He can see the questions and the anxiety in your eyes and he knows he’s going to have to come clean about the danger he’s putting you in. But sticking to his plan, Din says nothing and focuses on taking off and setting coordinates to Dantooine, the last known position of his next quarry.

You try to stay focused on the child in your arms, but you can’t keep yourself from staring back at Mando. The need for a blaster has brought your original question back to the forefront of your mind, and although it’s pretty much too late to ask now, you figure you should.

“So in your ad, you said, combat training was a plus. Why exactly did you put that in there?”  

You watch as he puts the ship into hyperspace, before he turns to you. You’re just starting at the black visor in his helmet, waiting for him to speak, when he finally says, “There are Imps after the kid.”

“Excuse me, what?” You hope you heard him wrong.

“I rescued the child from some ex-Imperials. They have a bounty out on him.” Din decides to leave out the part where he originally collected on that bounty, delivering the child right to them. He’s doesn’t want you to despise him so he figures he’ll keep that part of the story to himself.

“What do they want with him?” You’re still holding the little one tight, and you look down into his big, dark eyes and wonder what those terrible people could possible want from this adorable child.

“He has some kind of powers, like uh, like a sorcerer, or something.” He tells you sheepishly.

“Like a sorcerer?” You repeat, o-kay.

“I know it sounds strange. But, have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“Oh, yes, I know a little about the Jedi. Wait, can the child use the force?”

“You know about the Jedi?” He seems excited to hear that. “What do you know? Do you know any of them?”

“I know the Jedi were once an order of knights and they had the ability to wield the force. Have you ever heard New Republic people say ‘May the force be with you’?” That phrase has been everywhere, so you feel like he must have heard it.

“Yeah, but I really have no idea what they mean by it.” Din feels a little embarrassed to finally admit that to someone. He hopes you don’t think him dumb for not knowing.

“From what I understand the force is like this invisible energy that lets the Jedi manipulate things with their minds. The phrase is meant to give you hope, sort of ‘May the positive energy be with you and bring you good things’. It’s a bit ironic though because for such an optimistic phrase it’s actually how Imperial Intelligence successfully broke several Rebel codes since they put it at the end of so many messages.” As much as your viewpoints aligned with the Rebellion, you had wished someone in their command had been intelligent enough to realize that you shouldn’t put a known saying into your coded messages. You look over to Mando and he gives you a nod in response, so you continue.

“I also know there were some Imperial commanders, very high up, who were pretty obsessed with the Jedi. They were always looking for any information about them. They thought there was a Jedi working with the Rebellion and any messages we decoded about him were supposed to be flagged as extreme priority. But, I never saw anything about him. So, that’s all I know.”

“That’s the most anyone has been able to tell me so far, so it’s very helpful.” Mando replies. He’s silent again for a bit and he seems to be looking down at the child. “It is my task to bring the child to the Jedi, he’s one of their kind. I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. He- He’s special.”

Looking down at the little toddler in your arms, you remember how the Imperials treated you, and the years of damage, fear, and violence that they rained throughout the galaxy. You can’t possibly let them get their hands on this innocent one. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” you tell the child. And then you look at Mando, “I promise.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged for Chapter 2, please let me know. Link to Chpt. 2

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11​ @theravenreads​ @nicotinebirds​ @boomtownboy @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

[angelicmichael]

Oohh, could you please write the nonsexual prompt sharing a dessert for Outpost Michael and reader? Who wouldn't want to share a dessert with him? Thank you so much. You really are an angel 😇

A/N: anon you are too fucking sweet omg 🥺💖 I hope I didnt dissapoint with this, I'm sorry it's so late and unnecessarily long!! Lmfao. The dessert eating is at the end if anyone wants to just skip to that part hehe. I wanted to write some mutual pining so.. that's why this fic is so fucking long lol

Warnings: eating, food, lil bit of sexual tension, very brief mentions of Millory and also Gallant x Michael 👉🏻👈🏻

Living in Outpost three was beyond miserable. Constantly being treated as a second class citizen, as a gray, was definetly doing its number on you.. Every day that you continued to stay alive in this hellhole you swore you slowly descended further and further into madness. Eating gelatin cubes.. being around the same exact people, day in and day out.. with nothing else to do but to clean, with no end in sight was only a recipe for disaster.

And disaster seemed to come with a name; Langdon.

You didnt believe him when he announced that he was going to pick a select few to take with him to the sanctuary; you knew that was fucking bullshit.. but you had to admit - it was amusing watching the other outpost residents finally get a spark of excitament in their eyes. A reason to be alive.

You watched him take interest in mainly Gallant and Mallory; and that's when you felt something.. distant yet familar. Yearning; attraction, and maybe even jealousy.

It reminded and made you nostalgic of old emotions that you used to feel regularly; which now only visited you vaguely whenever you caught Michael stare for a second too long at either of them.. but it wasnt your job to monitor the relationships that were allegedly occurring.

You kept your head down until you begrudgingly got an interview; honestly surprised at first that Langdon seemed to be giving you a shot at salvation at all.

You were even more surprised at how the actual interview seemed to unfold; how disgustingly touch starved you were and the way in which you reacted to him. You were praying that Langdon didnt notice how your entire body was littered with goosebumps the second he touched you - a harmless gesture with his hand lightly touching your back when he walked by. Or the pure exhilaration you felt when he brushed a tear away from your cheek.. It was honestly embarrassing.

Even more embarrassing was how much you craved to see Langdon again as soon as you left the first interview.

The days following the first initial interview were torturous for you. Your days and even nights became infested with thoughts of Langdon; his blonde locks and light blue eyes even started to follow you and become familar in dreams..

You couldnt stop thinking about him.

You knew it was stupid to crave romance; it was utterly irrational. For one, if Venable were to even catch you looking at Langdon for a couple seconds too long - you knew she would want your head on a stick. That's not even to mention how jealous Gallant and the other residents would possibly be, if anything were to happen.

These thoughts were not realistic though  because you knew Langdon never viewed you like that. He treated you just as he did anyone else.. maybe even worse. He always kept his words short with you and rarely made eye contact most days.

For those reasons; you wrote off your newfound romantic thoughts about Langdon as nothing more but dumb daydreams. Just something to keep you occupied in the day while you tried to make the outpost look spotless. You figured it was a result of being beyond bored; your mind trying to find something to make life interesting once more. Anything. 

That was.. until Langdon invited you for another interview. One interview quickly turned into another.. and another.. and another until seeing Langdon privately was nearly the new normal.

The more you two continued to meet; the more your feelings for him only grew but you still chose to conceal them - well, to the best of your abilities anyway.. there was only much you could hide. However; if you didnt know Langdon prematurely, you wouldve thought he was a idiot or just purely naive for not picking up on the obvious crush you had.

It had been a couple nights now since you had last seen him.. And yet here you were; having another sleepless night that consisted of thinking of dumbass Langdon.

You stayed awake sleepless in your bed. Or.. the bed that was meant to be yours anyway. Nothing like felt home or like it was truly yours at Outpost Three though. You stared at the ceiling hopelessly; wishing you would be so lucky to feel a wave of drowsiness that could hit you and carry you off to your dreams.

You immeadietly sat up and nearly jolted out of bed when you heard three loud knocks rattle your door. The sound was distinct but haunting.. your immediate thought was Venable.. you could only help but to think what the fuck you had recently done to piss her off.

You swiftly walked through the nearly pitch black room and opened the door absentmindedly; trying to not let your paranoid thoughts control your actions and let you hesitate.. just in case it happened to be Langdon.

You would be lying if you were to say that you werent dissapointed when you found no one there; only a letter lay folded neatly on the floor.. directly in front of you.

Snatching it and opening it within the safety of your room; you had to hold back laughter when it was from Langdon - another invitation to go see him.. but it was marked urgent.

You nearly dropped the letter on the floor immeadietly; it wasnt as if you had anything else to do - you already knew you werent going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. You immeadietly took off, albeit as quietly as possible, off to Langdons office. Trying to keep your thoughts of what the hell he wanted to see you so badly for, at bay.

When you reached his room, you didnt bother knocking. You slipped right inside - knowing that knocking would only possibly wake Venable up or alert other residents of your whereabouts. Shutting the door behind you, you slowly approached him.

He sat at his desk; quickly turning around to face you as you entered. His light, ocean colored eyes were wide in what you could only guess was surprise that you came so soon. His mouth was slightly curved into a subtle smile.

"Hi". You uttered with a airy, soft laugh.

You first stood, knowing he would most likely want you to take a seat but you would rather wait for instructions than to just.. assume. You knew Michael had little to no tolerance but surely enough, he nodded at the seat that was directly across from his at the desk.

"Sit". Michael instructed, his gaze followed you as you steadfastly did as you were told.

You realized how carefully Michael was studying you as you walked over and took your seat.. and maybe it was because of the absolutely horrible lighting but you could swear you could almost see blood rushing to his cheeks..

Was he.. blushing??

You sat, completely puzzled as you watched Michael suddenly act flustered.. His motions changing from smooth and calculated to nearly awkward.. and.. just rather odd in a instant. He looked as if he wanted to say something but no words were spoken, that is - until you made the first move.

"Is something.. wrong"? You asked, trying your hardest to bite back laughter.

Seeing Langdon act so.. not like himself was basically pure comedy to you.  Although you would never admit that outloud of course.

He now looked uncomfortable; licking his lips and clasping his hands together at the table before speaking.

"(Y/n), I have to talk to you about something". Michael admitted.

His expression changed from looking rather nervous to serious again; his mouth in a straight line and the muscles in his face relaxed.

You were quite literally sitting on the edge of your seat, your stomach started to do somersaults as you desperately tried to rationally think of what he wanted to say..

"Yeah, of course. What's wrong"? You prompted, your voice coming across as unsteady.

You tried your hardest to not let your voice shake as you spoke, although you were more than certain it showcased exactly how you felt.

Langdon unfolded his hands; appearing to study his rings momentarily before his blue eyes pierced yours - looking as if they were staring right past you.. Not necessarily at you at all.

"Look; theres nothing wrong. You just need to know that theres no need to be nervous around me anymore". Langdon stated matter of factly.

He maintained eye contact with you; diligently waiting for a response as you actually tried to comprehend what he was saying.. Was he implying that you were going to the sanctuary?? Or.. possibly even something else?? Something more?

Your confusion must've been apparent on your face because before you could say anything, Langdon cut in.

"That's not why I asked you to be here with me tonight though. I wanted to.. reward you". He said.

You felt as if your heart had skipped a beat; nearly feeling woozy as your cheeks heated up. A reward?? Saying you felt speechless was a incredible understatement.

"A reward"?? You echoed your thoughts aloud.

Your words came out slow and strained with pure anticipation for what was to perhaps happen. You thought for a split second this had to be some kind of sick joke, or some kind of sick manipulation game. You wouldnt really be surprised; you overheard from the others he was famous for pulling that kind of shit.

"Yes, For giving me company. Close your eyes". Michael answered.

You immeadietly, and dumbly followed orders. However; as soon as you closed your eyes you felt fear pierce your heart. The uncertainty and possibilities of what could happen was jarring - but you had to admit it was also thrilling.

The past few months had been so fucking predictable and boring, a bit of excitement was well over due and actually.. probably healthy. Even if it was fucking terrifying.

You could hear him moving, and then something being placed on his desk in front of you. You first felt your eyebrows furrow as you opened your eyes unwillingly. Pure surprise forcing you to do so and to disobey Langdon.. oh fuck.

You opened your mouth to utter an apology but.. your gaze first caught onto the object in front of you.. leaving you speechless and with your mouth agape.

You marveled at the small slice of cheesecake was that put in front of you.. It looked entirely to good to be true; this had to be a dream.. or maybe a nightmare??

This last time you had eaten anything with any kind of remote flavour had been eons ago. Those memories served you well and made your horrifically boring days a little less painful.

You continued to blankly stare at it; not daring to move, or breathe but.. to just enjoy the view. You were half expecting for this to be some of torture again; for him to rip it away from you but a part of you reassured you that.. this was different. This was him trying, and being genuine.

You looked up to meet Langdons eyes as they intently studied you. A faint smile gracing the corner of his lips. A beautiful sight you rarely got the priviledge of admiring.

"Have some". Michael said, nodding down in direction of the dessert. "I thought you would appreciate the gesture. I cant imagine the shit Venable gives you is enjoyable". Michael sneered with a hint of laughter.

You couldnt help but to let out a giggle as well, looking down once more and noticing that the plate was also embellished with two forks.

"Thank you, Michael. You should have some too though, I dont want to be selfish-" You started, unfolding your hands from your lap and beginning to push the plate towards him.

He quickly stood up and walked up to you, stopping until he was beside you. He grabbed your wrist, tight enough to make you wince but not enough to cause any actual pain - making eye contact again.

"No.. I want to watch you have the first bite". Langdon said.

In a split second, the chair that was once behind his desk materialized right next to you, directly behind him. He sat down, watching you intently as you started to feel stupidly nervous again.

Your hands trembled a bit as you reached to grab the fork, swiftly taking a piece and then  quickly consuming it. You figured the faster you took the first bite - the less nervous you would be.. but his gaze continued to linger on you; intensely watching.

The pleasure you were momentarily wrapped in was insurmountable to anything you had previously felt in months. You had to ground yourself in order to not let a moan escape your mouth.. The rich flavor tasting so unreal; almost too good to be true.

To be completely honest, you forgot that Langdon was there at all until you noticed him grab a fork as well. Also taking a bite and continuing to watch you - clearly amused with your reaction.

You two continued to eat in silence; meanwhile you momentarily began to get lost in your own thoughts yet again. You knew he didnt have to do this; he very well could've just.. had the dessert with someone else, like Mallory, or even enjoyed it by himself, but he purposefully chose you...

Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of how he seemed to subtly state that he returned your affection. You knew there was no way that he didnt know that you harbored feelings for him; the way in which you acted flustered in his prescience had to be a dead give away.

An hour or so later you walked back to your room; the night slowly cutting into the early hours of the morning but you really couldnt care less. You really didnt care about anything, even if Venable found you. The last thought you had before you took a very shortlived nap, was how much of a sneaky bastard Langdon truly was.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @beyond-repentance

[justiceraffles]

"Hey, what if MK was a horribly written telenovela with a poorly conceived mystery storyline that's tied together in the most precarious of ways with nonsensical plotpoints and was also endgame Hakukai" So here's the start to my Hakukai longfic! I have a lot of things to say about this story so I'll just ramble about it at length beneath the cut if anyone's interested in my nonsense notes. Otherwise,

Read Here

I've been working on this thing on and off for a year and a half now, it lives rent free in my head every day and has been editted, restructured, and rewritten a lot. I've been very apprehensive about sharing it. ...To be honest, I still am! It's a chaotic story where I just allowed myself to write the most self-indulgent thing I could muster. This entire plot is an amalmagation of random things and ideas I like. It feels like a niche concept that is very messy and ???¿¿¿¿??? why did I make this

But, I guess that also makes it a very "me" story, so having fun with it and writing something that just brought me joy is what matters most, ultimately.

(aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

I'm very thankful to everyone who has read the outline and concept for it or just listened to me ramble about the incoherent plot and characters or cheering me on when I've been kinda anxious about it— it's thanks to that support despite this being such a specific and ¿¿¿ idea that I've found the courage to actually share it. I'm very grateful and I hope you guys can enjoy something in it o)-(

So, about the fic,

It's a story about Hakuba! I think we are all well aware that jokes about his long absences and infrequent appearances are very commonplace (where in the world is hakuba saguru??? TT) and it unfortunately leads to him being forgotten and overlooked often. The initial concept that inspired this fic was "Hey, what if Hakuba stopped showing up for real?" and explore the implications this would have on the MK storyline (and Kaito, by extension). I wanted to make a plot where he was allowed to be the protagonist of his own story, highlight his worth as a detective, his role in the main narrative, and the depth of his relationship with Kaito. It's a Hakuba Saguru Appreciation fic, first and foremost!

So, the romance itself is very slow burn. There is a lot of plot, because I have a lot of fun with ridiculous, contrived stories haha. It takes a while for the story to be fully set up, and Kaito doesn't make a proper, official appearance until the end of Chapter 2.

Chapter 1 is rather lengthy and sets the context and plot from Hakuba's POV, Chapter 2 focuses on establishing where his relationship with Kaito (as well as Aoko and Akako) stands at the moment, and Chapter 3 onward starts seeing the first proper developments in the relationship.

It's a bit rocky at first and they have a lot of ups and downs but I promise they work it out (I promise!!! I swear!!!) I tried my best to maintain a balance between the fluffy and angsty moments, but I have to admit it's quite dramatic at parts lol I enjoy stupid, trashy drama a lot sometimes— this is the reason I'm calling it a bad telenovela.

Despite the fact that this is very plotty, their feelings for each other are the guiding force behind the storyline, and their relationship does take center stage later on. The romance is in no way secondary, it just takes a long while to fully develop. They most definitely get a happy ending, but you can expect this to be 95% pining.

The story starts out some years after the current events in the MK manga. Pandora hasn't been found yet, and KID is still active. On the other hand, the DC canon is used very loosely; the conflict has long since been resolved. The BO was taken down years before the start of this story.

The two plots aren't too deeply intertwined here, they just intercept at parts. References to DC events appear here and there and some elements and character interactions overlap, but they tend to be minor for the most part. This is primarily a MK story and I wasn't too worried about completely integrating both plotlines (or staying 100% accurate to the DC plot, for that matter).

Of course, because this is MK-centric, Aoko and Akako are involved with the overarching story and have major roles to play.

In terms of DC characters, Masumi, Shiho, Heiji and Shinichi play semi-prominent roles in the story. I've tagged Masumi from the getgo because she appears in the first chapter, but I'll add the others when I get to the little arcs they show up in. Save for some specific contributions they have, they aren't too deeply involved with the overall plot progression, but the interactions Hakuba has with them are important for his character development and his better understanding of his relationship with Kaito. Basically each of these characters gets some sort of little story arc in which they interact with/help Hakuba in some way. I arbitrarily chose who I wanted him to interact with, lol.

Speaking of arbitrary decisions— Miss Masumi!!!! She's the first character that shows up in this and interacts with Hakuba. I understand this is probably a strange choice. Because I really wanted to flesh out Hakuba's detective methods and life in London a little more, I decided to use the very what if headcanon of Hakuba's maternal family and the Sera family being acquainted with each other. Like I said before, I didn't really want to connect DC and MK plots thoroughly, so the Akai family plotline isn't at all relevant here beyond a couple of passing mentions. I was mostly interested in Hakuba having an MI6 connection without the need of using another OC and I just wanted to imagine what a hypothetical dynamic between him and Masumi would be like.

And then, OCs. There's a couple of OCs with pretty major roles here as well. Really major— probably in equal measure to Aoko and Akako. I apologise in advance! I really needed them to properly build the detective/mystery aspect of the plot, and the more I wrote, the more they became involved with the story and relationship progression TT I really enjoyed writing them a lot, and I'm satisfied with how they turned out here. I understand OCs with prominent roles aren't everyone's cup of tea, though. Even though I enjoyed writing them, I'm a little self-conscious about how relevant they ended up being when they were originally just going to be there as a plot device to kickstart things ;;; Hopefully someone can find enjoyment in them nonetheless. They are most heavily involved with the story after the midpoint, but they appear all throughout.

I'm really nervous about the choices to have Masumi and major OCs in this story...I understand it is likely these things will make this story a little too niche. But!!!!!!!!! Again!!!!!!!!!!!!! Having fun with it is what matters most Raffles!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get that through your thick skull!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, please expect the most convoluted explanation to Pandora. There is a lot of made up lore I had a blast writing but it's all probably needlessly complicated.

In summary, it's a detective story starring Hakuba that somehow ended up reading like a dramatic post-breakup/getting back together soap opera.

A significant portion of this has been prewritten, so my (ideal) plan is to have weekly or biweekly updates (but hmmmm let's see how long that lasts until I decide to scrap and rewrite everything out of embarrassment— this is very likely, I second-guess myself a lot)

I keep dragging it through the mud, but I've actually had a blast writing it, even though there's A Lot going on and I'm not very confident in it being decent enough to share.

With all that, I hope someone else can maybe find some enjoyment reading it.

[barnesbabee]

Alejandro || S.M

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

⚠ mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of cigarettes, violence, alcohol ⚠

Reblog the fuck out of this one please, it’s a big one. Enjoy xx

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ x ʟᴀᴅʏ ɢᴀɢᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ || ᴘ3

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴀʟᴇᴊᴀɴᴅʀᴏ ᴍᴠ

 You tried so, so hard for everything to be perfect. So why was everything shit!? 

   Sometimes, when the stress building up became too much you’d find yourself pathetically sitting in the shower, with the warm water running down your back and dripping from your hair while the black mascara stained your cheeks.

    But you’d recompose yourself as quickly as you broke down. You had to maintain the pretty smile and the perfect front for all of the outsiders. You were ashamed, you didn’t want people to know about your situation, you dreaded that someday someone would understand the unbelievable amount of control going on inside those walls.

   There was no love anymore. Unbeknownst to you, the romance would be gone the second he’d promised you his life.

   Your husband had never gone as far as to hit you, but there were days that you felt as if it couldn’t get any worse. You were trapped and there was no sight of an escape.

   The two of you were part of a very conservative community, therefore a divorce would only serve to put you under a bad light in everyone’s eyes, so you just stayed quiet and endured it, hoping that something would go well for you.

    And it was a simple, stupid incident that set you on the road to freedom.

   It was in your brother in law’s wedding. 

   Your head rested on your first while your index finger traced the curves of your fourth martini’s cup. You were beyond bored: the music was mostly slow and ballad-like, and unlike all of the other young girls or old ladies you didn’t feel like dancing with your ‘sweetheart’.

    Alcohol-fueled tears brimmed in your eyes as you thought about your current situation, and how unfair it was, but before any of them could be spilled, someone spoke to you.

    “You’re either too drunk or not drunk enough.”

    Your gaze lifted to look at the tall man leaning against the bar’s counter. He had blonde hair (obviously not his natural colour) and shaved sides, which you thought was unusual, at least in a place like that.

    “Somehow, both…” You told him with a sigh.

   His deep voice was more noticeable when he chuckled. He sat down in the velvet stool next to yours and signaled the waiter to bring in two of whatever you were having.

    You eyed him curiously. You could see some colour underneath the thin, white dress shirt. You couldn’t help but become curious about it.

    “Do my arms pique your interest?” He asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you once he realized you were staring. 

   You cocked your head and looked him in the eye.

   “I was just wondering what the colours were.”

   The male quickly put his drink down to roll up his sleeves so he could proudly display his colourful, tattooed arms. He turned both of them so you could fully see the artwork, and you were truly mesmerized.

   Just as you were about to comment on how beautiful they were, the groom came running in and pulled down the man’s sleeves to cover up the pretty drawings. 

    “Mingi you fucking idiot I told you not to show these. My mom already hates you enough!” The groom whisper-yelled, through gritted teeth as he smacked the back of you companion’s head.

    Mingi raised his arms in defeat.

    “I’m sorry man, I’ll keep them hidden.” He said jokingly.

    The groom walked away as he signaled to Mingi that ‘he was watching him’. You laughed and took another sip of the drink he had kindly ordered for you.

    “His mom hates you? Wow, you must be a nightmare…”

   Mingi laughed and brushed his hair back with his hand.

   Hot.

   “Yeah… She kinda caught me smoking and she’s been trying to push us apart every since then.”

   “Oh, a bad boy then?” 

   You winked at him playfully and laughed. After both of your laughs died down Mingi sucked in a breath and placed his hand high on your thigh. He leaned in to whisper in your ear.

    “Are you into that?”

    A weird yet pleasing sensation spread through your body, and an unwanted blush appeared in your cheeks.

    He sat back where he was and brought his drink to his very appetizing lips once more, while locking his gaze with yours.

    You snapped back to reality quickly. You raised your hand, showing the meaningless yet very real, gold wedding ring. You shrugged and gave him an apologetic look.

   Mingi rolled his eyes and scoffed (much to your confusion).

   “As if you’re content with your marriage.”

   You looked at him, offended, as you couldn’t believe the nerve he had. You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

    “And what could possibly lead you to that conclusion?” You asked, indignant.

    Mingi smirked.

   “Well, for starters, the love of your life left you by yourself in a bar while every other couple is being corny on the dance floor, second, because if you weren’t the slightest bit interested in me you would’ve already left, and last but definitely not least,” Mingi leaned dangerously close, so you could hear his victorious whisper “if you were really happy with him you would’ve swatted my hand away the second it laid on your thigh.”

   You suddenly became very aware of his touch, and his fingers burned on your skin. You stood up abruptly and walked quickly towards the exit. You felt like the air was choking you and you needed some air. 

    Before you could walk very further, Mingi gripped your wrist for a second. 

    “The tattoo parlor in front of the mall, find me there.”

    And just like that, he let you go. 

 “You fucking bitch! You’re so goddamn worthless! I swear to God the only reason why I don’t kill you is because I don’t want to go to jail over something as useless as you.”

    You snapped. It had finally become too much to take on all by yourself. The shock and fright you felt prevented you from crying, or from doing anything really. You just stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him wide-eyed and frozen, not sure of what to do.

    You were only able to turn around and start running when your husband stepped towards you. The fear enveloping you pushed you to turn around and run out of the house to the only destination you trusted: the tattoo shop.

    How sad was it that the person you trusted the most was someone you had spoken to once?

    Life isn’t always kind…

    Your legs almost went numb from all the running, and the cold air hitting your face felt as if it was slicing your skin. When you eventually spotted the red, neon open sign shining in the dark street you stopped. 

    Was this even a good idea?

    You were way past caring when you hurriedly pushed the heavy door open and entering the shop. 

    The little wind chimes hanging right beside the door announced your arrival.

    “I’m sorry, but we’re closed now if you’d like you can return tomorrow at 9am.” The familiar, deep voice warned.

    You were a little unsure of what to say. Fuck, what could you say? What, in this situation, would be acceptable to say?

    “Mingi?” You called, simple and straightforward.

    His blonde head quickly peeked from the back of the store. He revealed his whole body as he walked towards you.

    “Wow, I didn’t actually expect you to show up, if I’m being honest I-”

    You shut him off by standing on your tippy-toes and pulling him down to kiss you. It was a very rough and sudden kiss, and to say you were just as shocked as Mingi about your behavior was no understatement. 

    When you pulled away Mingi’s hands rested on your hips. You two shared the most intense staring contest as your faces were just mere centimeters apart.

   “Please…” You begged “I just need to feel something.”

  The man immediately kissed you, as if he was in a hurry, as if he’d lose you if he didn’t do it right then and there. It started slow and passionate, moving to a much rough pace soon after. 

   The kiss was messy and sloppy, a type of kiss that you had just found out you loved. 

   “That’s all you needed to say, doll.” Mingi told you as he caressed your cheek, once you pulled away for air.

   You bit your lip as you looked up at him. 

   Mingi hit a button on the wall that turned off the big, shiny sign outside. He grabbed your hand and lead you to a small room in the back. It only had a red couch, a mini-fridge, a microwave and a dark-wood coffee table with a pack of cigarettes and a silver ashtray on top of it. The room reeked of smoke, but that surely wouldn’t be your focus.

   When the door clicked behind the two of you, he pushed you against it. His hands roamed all over your body, hungry for every curve, as his lips worked on your neck. 

   You felt embarrassed at how quickly he got you moaning. All it took were a couple bites and a cheeky whimper had already left your mouth.

   You slapped a hand over your mouth when his large hand found its way inside your underwear, but he was quick to remove it. He pecked your lips sweetly. 

   “Oh no doll, I wanna hear every little moan that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours, okay?”

    He caressed your lower lip with his thumb, and all you could do was comply with his request. Mingi picked you up bridal style and threw you on the beat-up, surprisingly comfortable couch.

     His lips devoured yours hungrily as he desperately undid your jeans. Mingi’s hair was messy from the way your fingers played with it, but you two were far from caring about appearances, you were too absorbed in each other’s moans to pay attention to it. 

    Mingi gripped the waistband of your jeans and pulled them down roughly. Your underwear came off right after, and you watched as he threw them somewhere in the room as he worked in undoing his sweatpants. 

    He noticed the way you closed your legs slightly, a little embarrassed about the situation. Mingi smiled softly and spread you with one of his hands. 

   The male leaned down and kissed the spot just below your ear.

   “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

   You blushed at the comment, more than you already were, and pushed away the thought that Mingi had made you feel more like a woman in twenty minutes than your husband had in your whole marriage. 

    Mingi lined up his cock with your entrance and waited for your consent. You gripped the cushions in anticipation, and nodded. 

   Once he had the green card, Mingi bottomed inside of you, and moved slowly. When your face started twisting with pleasure, Mingi sped up. He hovered over you, each hand on the sides of your head, accentuating how much bigger he was than you, how tiny and secure he made you feel. 

   He lost control over his body, and he could no longer regulate the way he thrust into you. It was wild and violent, something you’d never experienced before, something you now loved.

   You gripped Mingi’s shoulder, leaving clear nail marks on him (but little did you know he loved them), as you moaned and whimpered underneath him. 

   “F-fuck I think I’m gonna cum Mingi-”

  The way you said his name made his cock twitch inside of you, and he nearly came, but Mingi was focused on making you cum first.

   He bit on your neck once more, carefully as to not leave any noticeable marks, and the mix of feelings combined the desperation you felt made you climax, and you didn’t hold back in the way you moaned his name as you walls tightened around his member.

   Mingi immediately pulled out, releasing all over your stomach and inner thighs in the process.

   You both didn’t move for a second, both trying to catch your breaths. And although it never took Mingi too long to regain his energy, he surely was enjoying the work of art in front of him.

  From that night on, you had to pretend you were miserable. You had to hide your joy and glee from your husband so he wouldn’t catch onto your unbelievable happiness. 

   Mingi treated you like he only had eyes for you. He treated you like you were the only one in the world. He treated you like a human, he respected you. That’s all you could ask for in a man, and so your little tattoo shop visits became longer, and more often. It became hard to hide, but every bit of it was worth it. 

   You’d often find yourself smiling, at the thought of Mingi’s silly jokes or crazy antics that never failed to amuse you, and you’d been caught once or twice by your husband, but it was never anything significant for him to suspect something else. 

   Everything almost went down the drain when you and Mingi ran into each other in a café, justly when you went out with your husband. You tried to avoid him, because you were sure he wouldn’t remember how your ‘significant other’ worked, but it was no good.

   The second he laid eyes on you, a wide smile spread across his face, and suddenly it was as if the sun was shining inside the café.

   You wanted to run into his arms and kiss him as a hello, but you couldn’t. You maintained a serious expression and shook your head negatively, but it was no use.

   “Y/N! Hi!” The man greeted you.

   You immediately panicked, as the grip your husband had on you tightened. 

   “Y/N, baby” the nickname didn’t sit well when he said it “who is this?” 

   Although his voice was sweet in front of strangers, you could sense the undertone.

   You rummaged through your head, trying to find a passable excuse.

    “Well, Mingi was at your brother’s wedding and he approached me because he needed some legal advice concerning his shop.”

    Mingi was a little confused, but he went ahead and fed the lie.

    “Oh, well then I’ll let you discuss that while I go wash my hands, Y/N find us a table.”

    He never said please…

    You waited for him to be in an acceptable distance so you could comfortably talk to Mingi.

    “Don’t call my name, Mingi!”

    “What!? Why?”

    You held the bridge of your nose between your index finger and your thumb.

    “Listen-” you looked towards the bathroom door, and your husband was coming back “I’ll explain later tonight, okay?”

    Mingi was visibly upset, but still agreed.

    The clock on the wall ticked slower when Mingi waited for you, or so it seemed. A minute without you felt like an hour for him, he was absolutely head over heels for you, and most of the time of your face and your laugh was all that was present in his head.

   You were just intoxicating. 

   When the wind chimes echoed through the shop, Mingi immediately peeled his body from the couch and went to meet you.

   You both shyly smiled at each other, as if you were two teenagers in love for the first time. 

   Mingi grabbed your hips and brought you forward, pressing your lips together softly. 

   “Hey.”

   “Hi.”

   They weren’t dry hello’s, no, but bashful ones instead.

   You gripped onto his biceps and bit your lip, unsure of the correct way to approach him about it.

   “Mingi, listen, you have to pretend you don’t know me in public…”

   He furrowed his eyebrows together and cocked his head.

   “What?”

   You sighed, a little sad about having to explain the motives behind your request.

   “We have to pretend to be strangers in public Mingi, you know how my husband gets and-”

    “Then leave him! I don’t understand!”

    You didn’t like the way he cut you off, to say the dumbest thing of all, on top of that.

    “Do you think I wouldn’t have already if I could!? What would I do then!?”

    “Live with me! Come with me! We still have our whole lives ahead os us Y/N! I love you and it hurts seeing you being mistreated yet still settling for it!” He yelled, gripping onto you as if he was afraid you were slipping away.

    “I know that we are young and I know that you may love me, but I can’t live like this anymore Mingi, I have a life already built, I have a job and if I leave him everything will change and I will-”

    Mingi shut you up with a kiss.

    “And what, Y/N? Are you like them? Are you like those stuck up motherfuckers that side-eye me because I dye my hair and wear leather jackets, hm? Do you want to have a nine to five job, have kids, be stuck in a marriage and then die knowing that the most fun thing you ever did in your life was fool around with a tattoo artist for a couple of weeks!?” He exclaimed, visibly frustrated, as he stepped away from you.

    “I want a secure life! I want the guarantee that tomorrow I’m not gonna starve! And if that means that I’m just like my parents then maybe I am!”

   “Y/N you know damn well why you’re not like all of these people! Why won’t you let me have you!? Is it because I live in a flat, not a house? It is because I buy my clothes on Primark, not Tommy Hilfiger!? Is it because I have a bike instead of a car!?” 

   “It’s because I don’t fucking know what to do! The life I live is miserable but at least I know that I’m not gonna be struggling tomorrow…”

   There was a long silence. A long, heavy silence. Mingi placed his hands on his hips and huffed. He looked around for a second, before laying his eyes on you again. It was like talking to a wall, he couldn’t understand how comfort won over happiness, and it stressed him out.

   “Give me one reason, one good reason, that’ll make me walk out that door with no regrets of leaving you.” He said, pointing at the glass exit.

   You looked at him. There was no reason. There was absolutely no reason as to why you should stay in that place. A comfortable life didn’t compensate for the fact that you had been threatened and mistreated almost every day.

    Upon hearing your silence, Mingi stepped towards you and cupped your face, making you look at him.

    “Exactly, you can’t, this plave isn’t for us. Run away with me Y/N, let’s leave, I promise I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life…”

    You didn’t know if it was the rush, the adrenaline, the glisten in his eyes or the sheer adoration you felt for him, but you kissed his lips, and grabbed the extra helmet for his bike, with no further questions.

    “Next you need to let me tattoo you.” He said, as you two got on the bike with whatever you had in your pockets.

    You chuckled, encircling his waist with your arms.

    “In your dreams, big boy.”

    “I’m already living my dreams.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 24

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 3k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is a shorter one but I swear, you’ll love the next chapter. It’s a certain birthday boy’s night out :P so I hope you enjoy this lead up either way!

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Urgh,” You groan loudly, running your hand over your face as you stare at the display of unusual technology. “Why are men always so hard to buy for?” 

“I’d take offence to that but honestly, you’re right.” Jungkook says, humour in his voice as he plays with a little helicopter that actually flies. You’re in one of those stores full of random things that seem to particularly appeal to guys with odd and bizarre technology things and joke stuff. You like it too but these places always seem to attract guys in particular, which is why you’re currently here with Chungha, Soyeon and Jungkook trying to find something for Hoseok’s birthday.

Buying presents for anyone is always a stress for you as you hate the idea that you’ll end up buying something they hate. Half the time, you explicitly ask them to give you a list and just pick off it because quite frankly, you’re not very creative when it comes to presents.

But this time you’d decided to try properly. It was the first birthday either of you had had since beginning your relationship and you wanted to try. So you’d spent time making sure to listen to his conversations, whether they were with you or his parents or his friends, to find things that he wanted.

It didn’t help that his birthday was only a month and a half after Christmas too. One of the reasons you’d held back on his Christmas presents was because his birthday was so darn close afterwards. You’d finally managed to get a new job in January after many, many months of failed interviews, with a salary that wasn’t pitiful and with work that didn’t make you want to face plant the desk, so you had a bit more money to spend on him.

Twenty-nine wasn’t a big birthday or anything, that would be next year obviously, but you still wanted to make it fun for him. So you were determined to buy interesting presents that weren’t boring and useless. 

“I don’t know about Hoseok but I think I want this lamp.” Soyeon says, picking up and turning around a lamp that reminded you of one of those wire games where you had to avoid touching the wire. It was fluorescent pink right now but faded into yellow soon enough and in the shape of a heart. Perfect for Soyeon.

“Go for it. It’d look good in your room I bet.” You murmur, eyeing the stand of various lights and alarm clocks closely. Maybe Hoseok might like some fancy alarm clock given he was always getting up earlier than you? Though that would mean you’d have to put up with it too and you pulled a face at that thought, moving away to the range of mugs.

He got up way earlier than you for work and you could be a bit moody in the morning. The last thing you needed was to buy him something that would inevitably cause you to snap at him in the early hours. You were pretty sure he’d managed to train himself to wake up as quickly as possible to avoid your grumpiness.

Chungha follows you, picking up a heat activated mug with lightsabers on it and humming in curiosity. You look it over too for a moment and consider before instead grasping a box with a Zelda logo on it, licking your lips before nodding to yourself. 

Hoseok loved Zelda and you’d half contemplated buying him a Switch so he could play the one that came out a few years ago along with the other games that had come out recently. It was way out of your budget though so this would just have to do for the moment. He could take it to work for his coffees and stuff.

“Have you noticed that Soyeon and Jungkook seem to be really hitting it off?” Chungha whispers to you quietly, the both of you glancing over to where they’re both now stood playing around with sword umbrellas. You didn’t know Jungkook too well or anything, well enough to invite him to come help you pick things for Hoseok but you weren’t close.

He was one of Hoseok’s sweeter friends though and shared a lot of interests with you, including being quiet and introverted. Given how beautiful Soyeon was, and her own personality that made her kind, caring and loyal, you weren’t surprised that Jungkook had been instantly caught by her.

And you were kind of glad really. You knew he was a good guy from what Hoseok had told you and Soyeon deserved someone good. Plus, you would openly admit that Jungkook was handsome with the kind of body that game with his sports related degree while still maintaining such an adorable face.

Soyeon’s weakness really.

“Yeah. Don’t say anything though, it’s cute. Let them work things out themselves.” Laughing, you move over to the cashier and give her the mug with a bright smile before also grabbing a LEGO Darth Vader keyring from the range on the counter. This would make him laugh tonight.

“Don’t you feel a little jealous though? I mean, look at them. They look so perfect together.” Chungha sighs, leaning against the counter as you pay and accept the bag from the girl. Narrowing your eyes at your best friend, you lead her out of the store and watch as your remaining friends trail you out, laughing away at whatever conversation they were having.

“Excuse me. Are you saying that Hoseok and I don’t look perfect together? Or you and Dahyun? All lies.” There’s a slight petulant tone to your voice and Chungha immediately backtracks, spluttering almost in her attempts to smoothe over any issues she may have just caused until you laugh at her, pushing her gently.

“I’m joking. You’re right. They do look good. Hey, if they start dating then it’s officially bringing you guys and Hoseok’s friendship circles together!” You pause suddenly, cringing as a thought enters your head. “Though if anything happened with Hoseok and me then that would be very awkward. And heart breaking.”

“Hey, hey. None of that! I don’t want to hear any talk of breaking up or the potential for it when we’re out shopping for your boyfriend’s birthday presents! I’m telling you now, if you two ever break up then romance is dead.” Looking at her, you raise your brow in amusement at the completely serious look on her face.

“Okay. Calm down Nicholas Sparks. We’re fine.” That gets a snort from her as you lead her into a store that sells all kinds of musical instruments and electronic stuff. From your extensive research into trying to find Hoseok the perfect gift, you knew that you should be able to find what you wanted in here.

“Have you even read a Nicholas Sparks book? Or seen one of the films?” She asks incredulously, running her fingers along the strings of a guitar as you both pass by. Shrugging, you stop in front of the vinyl players and eye them with a tongue in your cheek.

“No? I mean, I watched five minutes of The Notebook but it was really boring so I turned it off. Aren’t all his stories meant to be like...depressing and shit?” Leaning forward, you read the little information card on one of the vinyl players and hum to yourself.

Hoseok had been discussing how he wanted to get into collecting vinyl records lately and to do that, he’d need a vinyl player. You’d already discussed it with his parents to make sure they didn’t accidentally get him one as he’d been talking about it to his dad and you’d tried to make sure that you would get a good one for him.

Even if you had zero idea of what constituted a good vinyl player to be honest.

“I mean...yeah, they are pretty depressing. But still. You should watch one, or read it. They’re tragically romantic.” Pausing, you look at her with a carefully blank stare before snorting.

“I don’t like romance films, Chungha you know that. I’m certainly not going to watch one that you’ve described as tragic. How is that even romantic? It’s just fucking sad.” You think you’ll go with the Sony vinyl player that you’d researched. He doesn’t need anything super fancy for a first one and it has Bluetooth, so should be good enough for him?

They’re certainly not cheap and you’re very happy that you’d saved so well to be able to afford this. While you weren’t normally sure about presents, you were pretty sure that this one was going to be a big hit with him.

“I’m just going to point out that not all of his films are sad. Well, I mean...they don’t all end sad. But still. Anyway, it’s not important. I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore and holy fuck, this is almost a thousand dollars!” Her surprise is incredibly audible and you shush her repeatedly, looking around to make sure no one is looking.

“I’m not buying that one. I’m buying this one. It’s not that expensive.” You point towards the one you want, crouching down to grab one of the boxed ones before heading over to the cashier once more. This birthday present shopping was going surprisingly easy compared to other times. Maybe it’s because the presents you’d decided for Hoseok were just so damn expensive that he didn’t have many.

“Boy, I hope he gives you some good oral for that.” She mutters and you look at her mortified, eyes before glancing around to check that no one is nearby. Your hands are full so you can’t make a shushing gesture to her but your scowl is more than enough and she cringes slightly, whispering sorry.

Thankfully though, you don’t think anyone overheard her as the cashier just gives you the usual, bland customer service smile that you’re used to. The one which you give back while internally chanting ‘please don’t question what she just said’ but he simply rings you up, putting the box into a large bag for you.

As you walk away once you’ve paid, you hiss at her in embarrassment. “Chungha! We’re in public! Please!”

Laughing at you, she wraps an arm around your shoulder and hugs you to her before letting you go. She’s always been the more open minded out of you all and has never felt the need to censor her thoughts or words. Though she did usually tone it down in public as you always wanted to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

There was no wonder Hoseok and her got along so well. Both of them just said whatever came to their minds with no filters sometimes and it pained you considering you were a prude in comparison. Well, when it came to sexual things anyway. Anything else just came out of your mouth without a second thought.

“Where have they gone?” You ask suddenly, realising you’re both about to leave the store with only half of your group. Frowning, you look around outside and see that they’re not there so you walk back inside, scanning through until you spot them both sitting at one of the pianos that’s been set up. 

Jungkook is playing and it comes to you that the sweet piano music you’d been hearing for the last ten minutes has actually come from him. His hands, so large compared to Soyeon’s, dance across the keys elegantly and produce the kind of music you could only wish you could do. Chungha pauses next to you to watch the show and you laugh softly, leaning into her as you nod towards Soyeon.

“Oh yeah, they’re definitely gonna get together. She’s got literal heart eyes going on right now.” Chungha snorts in amusement, nodding before walking over to them both and breaking up their little music session. Jungkook appears to be oblivious to your best friend’s sudden infatuation with him and gives Chungha a polite smile as he makes small talk with her but you’re not.

Walking alongside Soyeon, you peer at her for a moment and take in the way her eyes are bright with happiness and the gentle smile on her face. Giggling you push her with your shoulder until she’s looking at you in expectation.

“So...Jungkook.” You keep the words quiet in case Jungkook happens to have better hearing than you’d expected but it still causes her cheeks to blush a sweet, rose gold. Grinning, you turn around and walk backwards as you take the rare chance of being able to tease her about a potential relationship. 

Normally, she’s already in a relationship before you even find out anything given how much she enjoys dating. But for the first time since you were in college, you were getting to see her in the midst of a crush.

“He’s nice. Very nice.” She says softly, the smile on her face matching her tone and you want to coo at her. But you can’t because Jungkook and Chungha have paused for you both to catch up to them. So instead, you leave her with one final comment.

“He is. And he’s very handsome. Hoseok says he’s a good guy so you should go for it.” With that, you stride forward to have a talk with the man in question. Looking up at him, he’s taller and broader than you, you give him a bright smile before holding up the bag with the player in it.

“Think he’ll like it? He’s been saying for a while he wants some vinyl records and I told his parents I’d get him the player. They’re getting him some records for it to start him off.” Jungkook peers into the bag, having a closer look at the vinyl player you’d bought before nodding in approval.

“I think he’ll like it. And that’s perfect because now I can buy him some records too. Any idea what his parents are getting him?” He asks curiously and you hum, frowning as you try to recall what his mom had told you on the phone.

“I think...a bunch of Iron Maiden records and one or two Metallica?” Pausing for a moment, you nod firmly. “Yeah, those two.”

“Sweet. There’s a store that sells records near here, are you okay if we go there and I can get him something as well? I know the perfect record for him.” His eyes are wide with excitement and you can’t help but grin at how sparkly they seem to be. Yeah, he would definitely make a good boyfriend with Soyeon.

“You know, I think I’ve realised a flaw in my present plans.” You muse to yourself, linking arms with Chungha when she sidles up next to you. A questioning noise comes from Jungkook and you look at him with a self-deprecating smile.

“I don’t really like a lot of the music he loves so I’m just making a rod for my own back here, aren’t I?” That gets a laugh from them all and you pout in an overly dramatically manner. For a moment, you consider how easily Jungkook seems to fit into your little friend group and how much you actually enjoy interacting with him.

You’ll openly admit to being a little awkward and stilted with some of Hoseok’s friends still, but you imagined that would change with time. The easy camaraderie between you all makes you miss Hoseok though, even though you knew there was no way he could have come with you.

“Well, you can buy records too. I mean, I know it’s his but if it’s in your place...I think they probably do records for the stuff you like.” Jungkook laughs and you can’t help but snort at the evil look in his eyes. Despite how sweet and innocent he often appeared, you knew from Hoseok that Jungkook, along with Jimin, was quite capable of coming up with some of the best pranks.

Best depending on your point of view obviously.

“Okay, no. I’ll be nice. It’s his player so he can play what he wants. Though he’d probably let me. Did you know I managed to get him to sit through an entire Taylor Swift album the other day? He looked comatose by the end.” Giggling, you remember the memory fondly while Soyeon scoffs on your other side.

“You don’t even like Taylor Swift.”

“Wrong. Well, kinda wrong. I like some of her songs. But on the whole, yeah, not a huge fan. That’s why it was funny because his reaction when he figured out I’d just put it on to make him whine.” Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh loudly, the sound amusing on its own while he wrinkles his nose in pure amusement.

“Oh, you are evil. I love it. I definitely approve of you.” Rolling your eyes at how enthused he sounds about your prank on your boyfriend, you smile at Soyeon as she shakes her head in resigned bemusement. She should get used to this if she wants to try anything with the grad student because it’ll probably be a lot worse for her.

Idly, as you all continued to walk to the store Jungkook wanted to visit and made plans for dinner at a local pizzeria, you wondered if Hoseok would be amenable to your matchmaking skills. He obviously knew Jungkook far better than you so you resolved to ask him about it tonight. Maybe you could rope him into helping you get them both together. 

Though he may just do that thing where he sighs at you fondly and just goes along with whatever you say. You’d suggest it to him and see what happens. Either way, you get the feeling that the group of single guys in Hoseok’s friendship circle would be dropping once more soon enough.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Fifth Act: Diligence

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him - James 1:12

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, supernatural, angst, slow-burn, slice of life, comedy

word count: 12.9k (CHONKY BOIII)

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Fourth Act: Kindness

A/N: when i said it was long, it’s LONG long. WHEW! The second longest chapter in the series so far?? djfksgh Sorry to keep you waiting for so long ;w; I can’t thank you enough for your patience and unwavering love and interest for this series in spite of it! So here we go, FIFTH ACT YALL HHHH I hope you’ll enjoy!!

@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy

You don’t want to admit it.

It’s so cliche.

But you’re not gonna burst out singing Meg’s song from Hercules because you’ve passed that stage at least.

What your problem is is that confessing your feelings has proven to be way easier said than done on a multitude of different levels.

Confessing to someone is already a nerve-wracking thing to begin with — you’re basically laying your heart out to a person hoping that they won’t end up completely crushing it —  but furthermore, you don’t even know how to go about doing this. For the past days or so since you’ve resolved yourself to Jaehee that you were going to take that leap of faith, your only means of contact with Jimin has been through texting which was both a blessing and a curse.

You’re not gonna lie and say that you didn’t need to do some psyching up first, some mental pep talk through the assurance that you could still hold a decent conversation with him without getting sweaty palms. Of course, when you did manage to pull enough courage to direct the conversation to that topic (and okay maybe a glass of wine helped too), you were strategically swerved.

If there was one thing you wanted to do when you confessed, it was to do it in person. You feel like this is too big of a deal to do through text even if it would’ve helped you with organizing what you wanted to say better. You wanted to be open with yourself and to Jimin and being face to face was the only sure way to get your sincerity across.

So whenever you ask him if there was any chance he could meet up in person, whether it be at a cafe or even just late at night in your room, he would always excuse himself saying that he couldn’t. The reason always being that he was ‘busy’ or had matters he needed to attend to (his words, not yours). You understood at first, though the times when they happened it had put a damper on your confidence, but it soon became too redundant and you grew agitated, even more so because any attempts at a compromise didn’t work either; Jimin never gives a straight enough answer for it.

But then the chats became sparser, never lasting more than a few short exchanges until they just stop altogether.

And when the texts aren’t being returned, your calls are met in the same manner; your only reply is the sound of the dial tone.

Soon your suspicions morphs into anxieties, and though you attempt to reign in your imagination, the longer you don’t hear from him, the more they become rampant. Your mind begins to dredge up memories of things you’d rather forget, playing them out as if to show you how eerily similar this all is, taunting you, reminding you that the last time this had happened your guardian demon had come back on the brink of death.

You swallow, trying to quell the suffocating feeling that comes up but there’s a pressure on your chest that has your breathing shortened. You’re wringing your hands unconsciously, a small attempt at coping with how on edge you’ve become though it proves to not be as effective as you would have liked. How you found that out was because anything and everything irritated you and it showed.

You hate how it seems like you can’t go for a minute without wanting to snap at the next person who so much as look at you — a really bad thing because you work in an industry that requires you to maintain your cool in literally any situation, even the most absurd ones.

And it’s like today was ‘let’s irritate the hell out of Y/N L/N’ and you didn’t get the memo because the clowns are out in full force.

“Well I don’t want to call the help line, that’s gonna take too long.”

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, deep breaths.

“They’re actually pretty fast with finding your transaction history; the only time it would take a while is if you called during the weekend because their time of operation is shortened.” You explain for what felt like the millionth time.

Yet still, the man in front of you continues to scowl as if this is entire thing was your fault.

“But I’m already here, I don’t want to have to go home and come back because that’s a waste of gas.”

“Sir,” You start again, “I can’t refund this item for you at full price if you don’t have the receipt. As I said, I can still put it on a store credit but I will have to deduct thirty percent because I don’t know if you got this on sale or if you used a coupon — that’s just store policy. Or,” The word comes out firmly, “You can find the exact same item and just do a straight exchange for the better of the two.”

He pauses, as if to think it over and you were foolish enough to think that maybe he finally sees reason, but then he opens his mouth.

“But I want my full refund.”

Holy shit if it were not for the laws of this land….

“Then you’re gonna have to call the help line or go find the exact same item and exchange them.”

You’re done, you’re absolutely done and you swear if this man doesn’t walk away doing any of your suggestions right now, you can’t promise that no ones about to get smacked in the face with your scanner. Thankfully, as if the universe has heard you, he begrudgingly takes the box of outdoor fairy lights (you really want to pull your hair out here) and heads off down an aisle. You actually breathe out a sigh of relief, but there goes what little of your patience you have left.

Now you can only pray that the rest of your shift goes by as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

Obviously that was too much to ask for.

You cash out around five people more before a woman approaches your register, holding a box with a picture of a white Instax Mini Polaroid camera on the front. You’re not sure if it’s your gut instincts or because you’re already so annoyed that immediately, you have a bad feeling about this. Regardless however, you muster all the mental strength you possess to suppress the feeling. Lips pulled taut into a wide smile, you greet the customer with an overcompensating amount of friendliness.

“Hello, how are you?”

“Yeah, I want to change the colour of this polaroid camera.”

You force the smile to remain on your face, “Sure no problem! Which colour would you like instead?”

“The pink one.”

You turn around to scan the rows of polaroid boxes hanging on the pegs behind you, picking out of the three colours available for the pink one the woman wanted. Placing it on the counter beside you, you ask nicely, “Can I see the receipt for the camera that you have and the camera as well please?”

She slides the box over to you and you see the receipt poking out of the slit. You take it out, opening the box to check the camera inside and make sure that everything that came with it was still there. Once you confirm that it is, you close it back up and unfold the receipt to match the barcode number on the box to the one that’s printed. Looking over to the pink coloured one, you confirm that the the item code for the white and pink cameras are different which comes as no surprise for you; in order to do this exchange, you would have to return and repurchase so the inventory count would be correct for the store.

A rather simple and painless concept.

“Why can’t I just take this one and give you this one?” The lady questions, annoyance colouring every one of her words as she gestures between the two cameras.

“I know they’re the same camera but since they’re different colours, they have two unique item numbers that differentiate them from each other to help with our inventory. It would only work if they were the exact same camera.”

“But they are!”

“They’re different in colours.”

“You know I’ve shopped here for a long time and I have never had to do this before.” She scowls at you and you refrain from rolling your eyes because clearly she doesn’t shop here enough to know.

“We’e always had this policy ma’am.” You instead answer plainly, the artificial civility in your demeanour already dissipating. When it’s clear that you weren’t going to budge and give in to her intimidation, she rolls her eyes and pulls out her card to insert into the pin pad. The computer system lets out a beep in error, letting you know that the card she used was not the one she purchased the camera with.

“Is that a debit or a credit card?” You ask despite already knowing.

“It’s a debit.”


“It has to be on the same card you used to pay for the camera.”

“Why can’t I just use any card?” You can already pick up the growing inflection in her voice; it’s a little louder and more aggressive but at this point you’re at your wits end too.

“For security purposes.” You choose to state simply, tired of explaining when you know it won’t work.

“Well, I don’t have that card on me because I thought this was going to be a simple exchange.” She says accusatorially, like of course all of this is your fault and you’re the one who’s being difficult. You try to take a deep breath in discreetly, jaw clenched until you feel it beginning to ache before you reply back to her.

“I can put it on a store credit and you can just use that amount to pay for the camera again.”

Your answer makes her huff, crossing her arms as she says, “Fine.”

Your finger practically punches in the appropriate operating system for the return method, reaching in a side drawer behind your counter to pull out a black card meant for store credits. There’s a slight tremble in your hand from the sheer effort of holding yourself back, feeling like a coiled snake ready to lash out at the littlest prod that you try to keep hidden by speeding up the process, which almost makes you slam the drawer close with more force than necessary.

You confirm the amount and swipe the card through the machine in one quick motion, carelessly dropping the card onto the counter in front of you as you wait for the printout copy of the transaction to come out.

“You didn’t have to throw the card like that.” The woman’s voice snap, piercing through your tunnel vision, so hyper-focused on just getting the task done that for a good minute you actually don’t know what she’s talking about.

“I didn’t throw the card.” You reply evenly.

“Yes, you did. Just now.” She challenges, gesturing to the card and pinning you with a sharp glare.

“It dropped out of my hand.”

“No, you threw it.”

“I didn’t throw the card, it dropped out of my hand.” You reiterate, biting out the words that at this point, there’s no way she wouldn’t notice your own growing disdain. To your surprise, she doesn’t continue to try and fight you on this (though the crossed look on her face remains) so you take it as a sign to proceed on to completing this transaction.

You think you’re in the clear; after swiping the card through, you hand over her new receipt and the camera she wanted but before you can even think about gritting out a very forced ‘have a nice day’, the woman cuts you off with a terse, “I’m speaking to your management about this. What is your name?”

The shock of her words make you freeze in place, your jaw nearly dropping from speechlessness. She can’t be serious right now….

But as the woman continues to wait, clearly impatient yet stubborn enough to wait for your answer, you realize that yes, she really is threatening to take down your name and report you to management over this petty squabble. Your heart is practically beating in your throat now and you feel your face heating up at how angry you’re getting, so much that for a split second the rash thought of outright refusing her came into mind. You wanted so badly to go through with it, loathed the idea of letting her think she had won when it’s her who was wrong in the first place. However, rationality wins over in the end; as sweet as the instant gratification would be, you think it’s not worth losing your job over.

Also, you just want her gone.

So you find yourself swallowing your pride and begrudgingly, you give her your name. To add insult to injury, she asks for a pen to write it down onto her receipt before she finally turns to walk off.

Great, fantastic, just what you needed; being written up because this stupid, entitled bitch decided to mouth off on you for something you have no control over.

You hate how your heart is still pounding, still trembling from your barely restrained emotions that has your nails digging into your palms. With a shaky exhale in an attempt to shake it off, you radio over to your manager that you would like to take your break now.

Thankfully, you’re given the go ahead and you had never made for the break room faster in your life, brisk pace allowing for no chances of getting stopped by any more annoying customers. Once the door shuts behind you do you finally slump back against it, temples throbbing as you take in deep shuddering breaths.

It takes a feel minutes before you feel calm enough, the overwhelming fire simmering down to a calm you can control.

You may have had to swallow your pride in telling a Karen your name and risk being written up, but you’ll be damned if you let it break you down.

-

The groan comes out unabashedly when you unceremoniously fling yourself across your bed, finally home after what felt like a ten hour shift. You lay there, eyes shut like you’re trying to trick your body that you’re in the state of sleep just so you can obtain some semblance of energy back — it doesn’t work.

Instinctively, your hand reaches to dig into your sling bag to fish out your phone, muscle memory dictating your actions as your thumb slides your lock pattern open and they’re tapping on the messenger icon before you can even think to stop yourself. The window opens with Jimin’s message thread staring right in your face, mocking in the way it has not changed status at all, frozen in its own time.

You don’t know how many times you’ve seen this screen at this point but it still never fails to stir back up all the negative thoughts and emotions that has been plaguing you so vividly as if it was your first time experiencing it. Your teeth are tugging at your lips again, reading and rereading your own sent messages that have gone unanswered, all asking the same thing;

Are you okay?

Where are you?

The details to the questions are no longer of your concerns because each scenario you conjure in your head was worse than the last that they threaten to drive you mad. You don’t think you can bear the weight on your heart much longer as more and more days pass in living this torturous limbo of not knowing.

All you wanted was just an answer, anything that would let you know that he was out there, alive and well.

That alone was enough for you.

You tear your gaze away from the offending sight, tossing your phone carelessly onto your bed somewhere. You sit back up just in time to hear the front door unlock and open, signalling for Jaehee’s arrival home.

You exit your room to greet her, wanting to take your mind off of things if only for a short while.

“Hey, where’d you run off to all day?” You ask, helping Jaehee with a couple of grocery bags but a quick peek lets you see that there are some that contains other curious things like….is that a plant?

“Hey! Oh, just here and there. Stocked up on some more food stuff but then got really distracted because look at these!”

Jaehee excitedly sets down a reusable bag on the table before reaching inside to pull out its content, which turns out to be a good sized leafy plant sitting in a cute little white ceramic pot. The leaves are wide and arrow-like in shape, marbled beautifully in vibrant greens and yellows — the lightest colour starting from the centre and transitioning much darker —  that makes them appear as if they have been painted on. At a quick glance, you would’ve actually believed that the plant is fake if it wasn’t for the specks of dark soil spilling out from the base when Jaehee accidentally tipped it too much while placing it down.

“They’re called Chinese Evergreens. Aren’t they pretty?” Your roommate beams, twisting the plant this way and that. “Now that I got some time to myself, I thought why not finally fulfill my wish in living my life out as a plant mom.”

A loud snort leaves you as you gingerly place the bag of food on the kitchen counter, turning around to see that Jaehee has pulled out yet another leafy looking plant, only the leaves of this one were long and banana shaped, a solid dark, olive green colour and parted slightly at the centre into an almost fan-like shape with seven leaves equal to each side.

“I got this one because I remember growing up, my parents had one, only theirs was way bigger.” Jaehee comments, holding up the plant comfortably in her hands. “I never knew what it was called until the gardener helping me told me it was a Kaffir Lily.”

You blink, a little skeptical at the name because it certainly didn’t resemble the lilies you pictured in your head.

“Lily? So does that mean it’ll flower?”

“Apparently? I was surprised too because I don’t think I’ve ever seen my parents’ plant flower but the gardener say its sporadic and sometimes first blooms don’t happen until two or three years later.” Jaehee regards the plant with a pensive pout and a tilt of her head but then shrugs and happily says, “But judging from the pictures though, they look pretty!”

You hum, choosing to nod along with what Jaehee says before turning back to sort out the food she’s bought. Seeing Jaehee so lively like this makes you glad for her. Ever since quitting her job, it’s like a weight has been lifted and Jaehee isn’t shy about taking full advantage of all the time she has now to do the more simpler things she’s missed out on — like cultivating plants apparently.

Whatever the hobby is, it’s nice to know that at least one of you is thriving.

Over dinner you express as much, which you get a boisterous laugh in response and actually feel sorry when Jaehee asks the same of you but all you can do is tell her that things have been the complete opposite on your end.

Aside from the god awful day at work you had (one which had Jaehee physically reeling and not knowing what to do with herself for a good five minutes; that was pretty funny), you had also told her of your predicament with Jimin. She’s frowning by the time you get out that you haven’t heard from him for days now.

“Every time I ask him to meet up in person, he’s always brushed me off or changes the subject, like he’s avoiding it.” You sigh out heavily, can’t keep how troubled you are from it out of your voice. “Now I don’t even hear from him at all and it’s making me anxious.”

A pause, and once again you’re wringing your fingers as you try to work out any sort of explanation for this. “You don’t think…You don’t think I scared him off do you?”

“No, no I don’t think that’s it.” Jaehee affirms, though the pinch in her brows doesn’t go away. “I mean it would suck if that’s all it takes because damn, I actually had a lot of faith in him but….I don’t know, it doesn’t seem right to me.”

Her words give you more comfort than you had expected, a relief you hadn’t known you needed and you’re all the more grateful for her to anchor you down. After wracking her head a bit more, Jaehee says carefully, “You mentioned how he was leaving soon, did he say anything about when he’s coming back or….?”

“No, he— he didn’t say. Just that it would be soon….” You swallow, feeling your chest clench suddenly. “I mean, he’s been gone before like this — twice actually — but he comes back, he always does…”

Even if it nearly kills him….

You trail off in your ramblings, trying hard not to reveal too much to Jaehee yet you feel like you’re making excuses for yourself because you don’t want to acknowledge the possibility that Jimin would up and leave without telling you. If not to your face then you’d hoped he would have at least the decency to leave you a note. Besides, shouldn’t there be some sort of formal undoing to your contract with him if he’s clear to be a free roaming demon again? It wouldn’t make sense if you’re still tied to each other in some way, or does the contract simply null itself? You refrain from letting out a groan, feeling the frustration and the oncoming headache draining what last bit of energy you have left. Instead, you drag your hands down your face and let out a heavy sigh.

“It only makes me worry because sometimes he’s reckless and does stupid things….”

“Wait, like what kind of ‘stupid things?’” Jaehee suddenly interjects, sitting up a little straighter and sounding a little more concerned. It has you floundering on how to put lightly that it’s in Jimin’s nature (and literally his job) to go out and find people to tempt them into depravity; would be fine and all had he been the only dangerous thing roaming the city but no doubt after that fateful night, there was something else more dangerous out there. Even though Jimin had told you it was one of those rare moments that he ended up so badly injured like that, you’d rather not take any chances or have him test his luck again.

“I don’t know like…things that might get him into unnecessary trouble.” God that does not make it sound any better. Panicked, you hastily add, “Nothing illegal of course! But like he…tends to wander and is a little too impulsive sometimes – do his own thing without thinking it through?” You cringe, bracing for Jaehee to give you shit for liking a guy who now sounds like a drug dealer or something. She gives you a rather perplexed look, a sort of lopsided quirk of her lips but eventually she seems to let it go, wordlessly trusting you and your sense of judgment.

“I’m just asking because….” Jaehee hesitates, then begins chewing on her bottom lip and her nervous tick starts to make you antsy.

“What?”


“When I met up with him, on the day we talked about quitting my job at the cafe, he also brought up how he’ll be gone for a bit and told me to make sure it doesn’t worry you too much.” She lets out a short, wry chuckle. “Actually said something along the same lines but about you, or as he put lightly, ‘make sure she doesn’t go off and do something she might regret.’”

It takes a second for her words to process, so shocked at hearing about this new tidbit of information. You blink and can’t help the hard frown that takes over your face, “W-Wha— Wait hold on, he told you he was going to be gone for a while too? And he didn’t say where either?”

And what did he mean ‘go off and do something you might regret’??

Jaehee winces slightly at seeing the heightened distress she’s caused but she powers on, firmly believing that you deserve to know as much as you can in regards to someone you deeply cared about.

“Yeah, he only said that much to me so I’m still as lost as you are. But….” She swallows, “Before he left that day, he didn’t look so well…. Like, he might be coming down with something serious.”

Your shoulders tense, heart palpitating as your mind begins to race.

“I’m not saying this to freak you out because it’s just what I saw so you can take it with a grain of salt. I’m just letting you know in case it might shed some light on some things.” Jaehee placates, holding up a hand as if in an attempt to calm you. You try to get a word out, an acknowledgement or anything but your throat suddenly feels too dry and all of your thoughts are spinning with questions that have no answers.

Did he get hurt? If so, how? Or can demons actually become ill, but from what? Is this why he’s not answering your calls or texts? Because he was trying to hide whatever this is? For how long?

“Do you know any of his friends? Someone you can contact to try and get a hold of him for you?” Jaehee’s voice pulls you back out from those depths, only half registering her words.

“I— Uh…No, not real— “ You stop your jumbled stream of thoughts midway when one name does come to mind. “Yeah…. Yeah I know someone.”

-

You say that, but you hadn’t exactly thought of how you were going to find him, let alone ask him if he could find out where the hell Jimin has disappeared off to.

Hell, you're not even sure if Jungkook's around to help anymore. If you remember correctly, you swear the last time you’ve spoken to him was on that rooftop garden and that felt like ages ago; you haven’t heard so much as a peep from him since.

But you need to try something.

As aloof as he is, Jimin always lingers in some way, like a shadow that’s hidden out sight and after Jaehee’s talk, you're confident that he wouldn’t just leave without telling you first. Clearly, there's something else going on with him and he's not telling you. So it’s with that hope that you find yourself doing things you wouldn’t find yourself doing late into the night at almost two in the morning.

Like google searching how to summon specific demons.

It’s so stupid, you’re well aware. Before, you would be like anyone else when it comes to your opinions on the supernaturals and anything relating to the occult; a skeptic and a very niche hobby one partakes in. You wouldn’t have thought twice about it existing because there was little to no evidence on it (or if there were claims, it would consider to be a reach). Oh how the tables have turned and with this desperate times calls for desperate measures position you’ve found yourself in, now it’s like a whole new world full of possibilities, ripe for your picking.

Perhaps not something you should dive right into the deep end of but what other choices do you have? Besides, you never know if there might actually be something helpful or clues in…..Beginner’s Guide to the Dark Arts and Satanism.

.... Fucking hell, what are you doing?

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, as long as you don’t accidentally end up in the dark webs then you’re good.

You go through a number of different websites, all looking and sounding more like something you would find in a fantasy novel or just plain cult-y. Once or twice you come across ‘summoning rituals’, most of which involve your run of the mill staple requirements: lots of pentagrams, symbols, candles, a skull of an animal or a straight up animal sacrifice, and some fancy incantations that you’re not sure are even legit.

Of the times you do come across specified summoning rituals, they include all of the above in varying methods but one thing that had remained consistent, you noticed, was that you needed a name — a ‘true’ name as they had called it — of the demon you’re trying to summon, like Beelzebub or Lucifer.

It leaves you briefly wondering about your guardian demon’s name, the one he went by rather than the alias he uses. You never realized and the more you mulled over it, you begin to feel immensely guilty.

How must he have felt when you called him by another name that wasn’t his.

You go to sleep that night with a knot in your stomach.

Much of your nights is spent that way; scouring through internet searches hoping to find some sort of lead to go off of but honestly, there’s only so much sifting you can do before everything starts to sound like the ramblings of a fanatic. The only information you had found promising was about the summoning rituals, particularly the ones to summon a specific demon, given if you knew their true names….which is something you don’t possess, either for Jimin’s or Jungkook’s.

It’s a frustrating fact because it’s the last and most crucial thing you needed if you even want to attempt trying. You hate the idea that you’re so close to getting somewhere and it’s just this one thing standing in your way. At this point, you think you might  have more luck trying to summon Lucifer himself and asking him where your guardian demon went.

…..

Huh.

Your fingers stop scrolling through your phone — another demonology article you’ve come across that didn’t really have much to do with finding a lost demon but intriguing enough to have you read — the thought pervading in your mind. It should concern you that it stays for as long as it did but the worse part is that the more you thought on it, the more it made sense.

If you can end up with a demon as your traditional guardian angel, then surely you have a chance at getting a hold of his boss, right?

Before you know it, you're flinging the covers off and booting up your laptop again in the quiet darkness of your room, half telling yourself that you won’t go through with this insane plan if you can’t find that one web page that seems the most credible to you. Much to your bemusement, you do, tucked away as a bookmark no less. It comically sticks out in contrast amongst the other more mundane things on the list; cooking recipes, nail art tutorials and then boom: witchcraft, demonology and understanding how you can attract different entities based on the energy you create through the elements.

Well, you think, looks like you’re about to find out whether Hell really is toll free after all.

-

If someone were to tell you months earlier that you would be spending a weekend shopping around for items to set up a demon summoning ritual you’ll be attempting yourself, you’d probably just let out one long, exasperated groan into oblivion before accepting the predicament, mumbling something along the lines of ‘he’s going to end up killing me first before anything else, and then what?’

Furthermore, you’re not just summoning any demon, you’re going to try to summon Lucifer, essentially the CEO of Hell and you’re about to pull a goddamn Karen — ‘corporate will hear from me!’ — on them because your guardian demon decided to go AWOL on you and you’ve had enough of being left in the dark. When they say you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain, this wasn’t exactly what you had pictured for yourself.

Ah, truly the things you do for love.

Once you got over that rather ironic analogy (literally stared vacantly into space for a good ten minutes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry), you had searched up all the places within your city that would possibly have the things you were looking for. The site had suggested a variety of them, ranging from apothecaries to antique shops. It took you by surprise when you do actually find two or three of them, not expecting at all for these sort of niche shops to exist in what you had always pictured to be a mostly uptown urban neighbourhood — guess that goes to show how much you go out.

Your plan was to hit up these little shops, buy what you can find there and then whatever you’re missing you would order off from a suggested website. So that’s how you find yourself on a Saturday off, bright and early; a rare sight for all kinds of reasons as normally, you’d be dead to the world until at least after twelve in the afternoon but you had been so restless that even sleep didn’t hold you back.

You’re on a mission.

After painfully following your buggy google map directions, you stumble upon the first stop. It’s a little apothecary shop, tucked away down a small, narrow side street where much of the city’s history is still prevalent in its structures. You can only guess these buildings were built in the early 1900, or even 1800 — the brick-red edifice is well worn and have patches of dense ivy that seems to almost swallow the walls whole. It appears to be tightly packed, the few mom and pop shops that are open on the street level on either side have multiple windows and sometimes iron fenced balconies above them, which you can only guess are the living spaces for the owners. For the most part, it’s quiet, the only other person you’ve seen is a young man who was too engrossed in getting an interesting angle with his camera.

Craning your neck, you take in the the lacquered sign above which reads ’The Soul Apothecary’ in gold script against a dark forest green paint that colours the outer front of the shop. It’s chipped in some places, mainly along the border that surrounds the large panelled window that display numerous of things on a small wooden shelf; crystals that are big and small in varying colours, jars of dried herbs, small potted plants, and wind chimes made of both wood and silver hanging off to the side.

It’s all very quaint and it makes you think that perhaps on some other less tumultuous time in your life, you would actually visit this place again.

Once you had your fill in admiring the exterior, you finally make your way towards the front entrance, passing by the two potted evergreens and pushing the door open to which a little silver bell chimes, signalling your arrival. Immediately, you’re taken by the interior and the smell of burning incense. It’s rustic in nature, the furnishing mostly, if not in all dark wood with the same forest green accents and despite it being a relatively small shop, everything has been designed to effectively maximize the use of space; nothing appeared to be cramped or cluttered at all.

All the walls were occupied from top to bottom with shelves and drawers, packed full of jars containing who knows what with the occasional decorative pieces breaking in between — taxidermy butterflies in frames, diagrams drawn on parchment that has browned with age, and geodes. There’s a single, long wooden table that sits in the middle of the store that holds trays of trinkets that can be worn with a little chalk sign that has an explanation on the purpose of certain items (and a winky face drawn next to a ‘buy one get one free’ advertisement), mini figurines and mortars. Above you, you realize, were dried lavender and roses hanging from a bar secured into the ceiling, their scents still faintly lingering in the air whenever you pass under.

Finally, you come upon the front till and it’s perhaps by far the most eye-catching thing you’ve ever seen. Framed on either ends of the counter were two wooden pillars that taper towards the top to form a narrow pyramid where two wrought iron rods curve outwards, meeting in the middle. Hanging from them were brass scales, varying in lengths and sizes, some of the little weights left forgotten from previous use. It’s here that you also discover the source of the incense, the lotus shaped burner resting off to the side along a call bell.

You’re so caught up in taking everything in that you had failed to notice someone else has entered the room.

“I gather you enjoy my shop?”

The sudden appearance startles you, whipping your head up to come face to face with a chest before quickly shifting your gaze upwards and when you do, you do a double take. The owner of the voice — and as it turns out, the shop — was a shockingly handsome man, his hair a chestnut brown with the tresses sweeping naturally down over his forehead and looks soft to the touch. His face is oval in shape, set upon a strong jaw and brows but paired with warm features; eyes round, tall nose, and a prominent cupid’s bow upon plush lips (though you’re sure not as plush as Jimin’s), you think you can go as far as to say his face was near perfect— the golden ratio as they call it.

He’s dressed in a white tunic shirt, loose and flowing over broad shoulders and simple black trousers, his only other accessories were the long silk scarf draped around his neck, it’s gold intricate floral designs standing out against the black colour and a single dangling silver earring with a nail point at the end of the chain, the shape reminding you of a fang as it twinkles with the slightest tilt of his head.

For a moment, your mouth and brain fail to work coherently, leaving you to gape stupidly like a fish. To be quite honest, you were half expecting a much older gentleman or lady to be the mysterious owner of the shop, a long ingrained stereotype from all the fairy tales you’ve been told as a child but standing in front of you is a man you think no older than twenty-eight. Furthermore….. why does he look so familiar?

You can’t quite place it, like your mind is just on the cusp of figuring out where you’ve seen him before, but then you’re back to drawing a blank once your eyes focus on his features. It’s almost as if you’re being forced to relive a deja vu over and over again. You give up eventually, tired of this mental battle that’s only aggravating you. Besides, you have more pressing matters at hand. Like functioning as a normal human being.

“I— Uh, y-yeah! It’s— It’s a nice place. So...” You gesture your hands uselessly, not really knowing yourself what you mean by it either so you smile back, exhaling a nervous laugh. He lets out a hearty chuckle in response, a hand over his chest as he throws his head back slightly and letting you see his Adam’s apple bob.

“Ah, hearing how speechless you are about my shop is all the compliment I need.” He peers down at you again, soft smile never leaving his face, “Though that can only mean you’ve never visited before?”

You shake your head sheepishly, confirming his assumptions. “No I haven’t, so you’re right about this being my first time.”

He withdraws to his full heigh with a thoughtful hum, nodding his head and clasping his hand behind his back. “I had a feeling since I remember all of my customer’s faces. I guess I should introduce myself then.” With a flourishing bow, he says, “You can call me Sung Jin or Joel, whichever you prefer.”

You nod, smiling widely as you introduce yourself as well. “Y/N.”

“Y/N….” Sung Jin repeats, committing it to memory. His expression dims briefly, a complete one-eighty from his otherwise cheerful demeanour but as quick as it came, it vanished, replaced by his usual benevolent smile again. It has you thinking that maybe you had imagined it. “What can I help you with today?”

Seeing as there were no other customers aside from yourself, Sung Jin sticks by your side, helping you find most of the items you have written down on a list. He’s charming, quite amicable as he enthusiastically tells you about the different plants and minerals you were looking for in great detail, their medicinal properties (or lack thereof) and other trivia facts you hadn’t bothered to look into.

You enjoy it, fascinated by what you’re learning yet you can’t help feeling the irony of it all because what you’re using these things for is far from healing purposes. And evidently, Sung Jin seems to catch on when the items start to become more and more dubious in nature, but in spite of it, he does little to deter you from buying them.

“So….. Atropa Belladonna….” He starts off casually, one dark brow raised and when you give him a puzzled look back, he adds, pointing his chin at the vial of dull purple, bell-shaped flowers and shiny black berries in your little basket. “Commonly known as deadly nightshade — not something people buy often, let alone ask in my shop.”

“O-Oh….” You nervously fidget, eyes darting from the little jar of poison to the jar in your hand (‘chamomile’ the label reads, a subconscious choice that you’d rather not look too much into). “Uh... I just thought...you know, it looked pretty interesting...?” You sound as convincing as a soggy loaf of bread, the grimace on your face not helping at all.

Sung Jin stares at you, eyes boring so intensely into your soul that you felt the need to lean back slightly. It goes on for a long minute until he lets out a loud gasp and he leans in, stage whispering conspiratorially, “You're not trying to summon a ghost or a demon are you?”

“N-NO!” It comes out louder than you had intended, spluttering and choking on air as you say defensively, “I'm not – !! Who would – why would anyone wanna do that?!” The jar still in your hand nearly goes flying from all the frantic waving you're doing. At your strong reaction, the tall brunette bursts out into a guffaw, slapping the tops of his thigh delightedly, laughter pitching and squeaking as if you'd just told him the funniest joke he's ever heard.

“I'm just kidding! Oh man, the look on your face was priceless!”

Again, you're hit with the dizzying sensation of deja vu, so fast that you're left in a daze until you're knocked back by Sung Jin who playfully smacks you on the shoulder.

Geez, is the incense that strong in here? You don't know what's gotten into you.

Once he finally calms, Sung Jin lets out a satisfied sigh, placing his hands on his hips as he regards you again. “Well! If that's all that you're looking for today, I'll be happy to cash you out whenever you're ready.”

“A-Ah...yeah....” You reply weakly, still trying to recover from the cold sweat that he made you break out into. Once you get your bearings again, you shuffle on over to the register counter and by the time Sung Jin bags the last of your things, you'd spent just a little over a hundred dollars. Your wallet is crying but you tell yourself it's all on Jimin's tab that he's wracking up with you.

“Thanks for everything today, Sung Jin. It was really nice meeting you and finding your shop.” You say. The shop owner smiles at you, about to bid you farewell when he catches himself, eyes widening in realization.

“Ah! I almost forgot something!” He whirls around from leaning against the counter to rifle through the drawers behind him, muttering under his breath until he makes a noise that lets you know that he's found what he was looking for. Turning around, he presents to you a stone crystal of sorts, about the size of his palm. At first, you think it's some type of rose quartz, only much paler than what you're used to seeing but as the light catches it, it shimmers iridescently, the vibrant colours sparkling and bouncing against the wooden surface of the counter. “A gift for you.”

“Oh no, I can't possibly...”

“Consider it as a 'thank you' for spending over a hundred dollars.” Sung Jin cuts you off with a tut, gingerly sliding the crystal into the little black pouch and cinching the draw strings together before offering it to you, “Also, it doubles up as a protective charm.”

“Oh really?” You ask, mildly intrigued, tentatively taking the bag and placing it into one of the pockets in your large tote bag.

“Yeah, keeps away all those evil spirits and spooky, scary stuff.” He wiggles his fingers at you, making you snort. Without any more surprises, you gather the brown paper shopping bags in your hands and turn, ready to leave.

“Thanks again, Sung Jin. I hope I can visit sometimes near the future.”

He shoots you a beaming smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle and cheeks full, waving cutely at you. Right before your eyes, he's aged back ten years and the sight makes it all the more difficult not to return his smile.

“Of course, come back soon Y/N. I'll be expecting you.”

His parting words ring out the same time the bell above the door does, making you halt just outside of the shop. You turn to look back as if something is compelling you to do so. It's confusing because you don't have any attachments to this place, having only visited for the first time and yet, you have this strange feeling of not wanting to leave.

The connection is broken just as quickly however, with the shuttering of painted wood, the door closing with a forceful clatter, effectively cutting off the strong earthy smell that had seemed to permeate around you until now. You shake your head, taking a deep inhale of the fresh air in the late afternoon sun. It clears away whatever dreamy haze that remained and with a shrug, you head on home, intent to tackle the rest of your remaining tasks.

-

Obviously, they would call for a night with a full moon, right on 3AM – the start of the witching hour. That's usually the case with these things right? Aside from this one requirement, everything else had been exceptionally easy to obtain. Your trip to Sung Jin's shop had saved you a lot of time and trouble in finding the things you needed which left only a handful of items that needed to be acquired – most of which you found on Amazon (of all places, but you suppose you really can find anything and everything on Amazon). The only hiccup you had was Jaehee nearly discovering your, as you sardonically call, 'new secret hobby' (boy that would've been a fun conversation to try and weasel your way out of).

So thanks to Amazon Prime, you have your very own demon summoning starter kit ready to go by the time the next full moon appears. And lucky for you, it lands on the day you have a closing shift so after you're done working, you can head right off into doing this – you have your eyes set on a local park just outside of your neighbourhood as the perfect place for it!

Wow, you sound way too excited about trying to summon Lucifer with no prior experience.

But you attribute the morbid exhilaration you're feeling as nerves you would have when you're doing something out of your comfort zone, like skydiving – except this was by far the most unorthodox way of getting high off of an adrenaline rush ever. Either way, you're antsy during the days leading up to it and even more so throughout your shift; you could barely keep still. Once you punch out for the night, you bid a hasty farewell to your co-workers and jet off without a second to waste. You take the bus to your normal route but instead of walking down the street towards your home, you continue on forward for two blocks.

You cross the road, coming up on the park that was like a little island all on its own with a simple playground and a set of swings that has seen better days situated in the centre, bordered by a singular paved path that curved from one end of the park to the other. The three street lamps planted sparely about the area begin to come alive just as the last of the sunset's light fades over the horizon. It casts everything in an umber glow, occasionally flickering sporadically. It's a quiet night, the only sounds are the faint chirping of crickets and passing cars in the busier intersection at the end of the road. There was no other person that occupied the park as far as you can tell, only seeing one or two people out taking a nightly stroll. The weather is especially warm tonight; even with the sun down there is still a blanket of heat that remains in the air, making you think that maybe you might actually get an early summer at this rate.

Your skin feels slightly warm and dewy as you decide to take a seat on the lone bench, finally putting down your tote and the big brown paper shopping bag you've lugged to work and stuffed in your cubby locker. It contains all of the things you need to set up for the summoning ritual but seeing as it's only eleven-thirty, you pull out your headphones to listen to some music while you wait for the appropriate time.

The moon was bright tonight, so clear against the cloudless sky that it almost looks like it was hanging right above you. You fall into a tranquil peace staring at it, the first in what felt like ages that you just bask in it – might as well take advantage of this rare moment before who knows what kind of shit will hit the fan soon.

Unfortunately, it lasts for about a good hour and a half before your nerves rear its ugly head again, suddenly so acutely aware of the time slowly passing. You're no longer satisfied with gazing at the moon, already having given up on trying to see the stars if you stared hard enough (you've never had such luck with that around here anyways). So you try to occupy yourself in other ways, like taking a look around the playground (you foolishly decided to try your hand at going down the twisting red slide which nearly sends you crashing into the sand pit below; that slide should definitely not be that fast) and doing a couple of rounds on the swings (before it let out a loud and concerning creak).

Still, the itch persists, you want to get this over with much like ripping a bandage right off. But magic takes time and precision, there's no cutting corners here, or so you read.

You eventually settle to make your base in the small platform of the play set, anxiously checking and rechecking your bag to see that you have everything. After you painfully drain your phone battery to fifty percent and nearly falling asleep, the clock finally hits 3AM. Now, you're truly deep into the night where the world falls to a hush and knows no better of the deeds that are about to transpire. The perfect cover.

You get to work, climbing down the play set with your bags in tow. Through the tab on your phone, you walk through the steps in setting up the summoning circle, using simple white chalk to draw on the pavement. You sprinkle the area with a crushed mixture of herbs and roots you had bought from Sung Jin's shop in the cardinal directions as instructed and draw a salt ring in the middle, meant to contain and protect you from harm. Finally, you mark the five candles and the inside of your wrists with more symbols in black ink and then take out a safety pin.

This is the one part you hate.

Inhaling deeply, you press the point of the pin against the pad of your thumb, adding pressure until you flinch, feeling the skin pierce and bead of crimson rises from the wound.

“Why do they always gotta involve your blood or any kind of blood....” You mutter, annoyed as you swipe it against the body of each candle, just above the marked symbols. Sticking your thumb in your mouth, you lick away the remaining blood as you arrange the candles to sit at the different points on the summoning circle and with a match stick, you light them all up. When the last of the candle is lit, you flick away the match and get into position, scrolling all the way down on your phone until you reach the incantations.

“Alright, here we fucking go...”

With your palms facing up, you begin to recite the first lines. You try to keep your tone steady and clear, enunciating each word. The further along you go, the easier they flow out like you know them off by heart, shocking you. You don't know if you're just imagining things but it's like something comes over you, a chill that travels down your spine, reaching to your fingertips and makes every nerve endings stand on edge. The sound of your own voice seems so distant to you now, like it's not even yours anymore as you fall into a trance-like state. You fail to notice the breeze that begins to pick up, a static charge in the air as the lamps around you flicker violently and when you utter the name 'Lucifer Morningstar', the candles are blown out.

When you regain your focus, you're slightly out of breath, heart thundering against your chest and in your ears. You glance around your surroundings, cautious and half-expecting to come face-to-face with the devil himself but slowly you realize....

There was nothing.

A whole three-sixty spin confirms it; there wasn't a single thing amiss around you that you're actually left in disbelief. But it's quiet now, too quiet. The crickets have stopped chirping, the street lights have stopped flickering – even the faulty one you saw earlier. So you wait another few minutes for good measures, holding your breath and shoulders tense until a sharp ringing and intense vibration erupts from your hand, causing you to yell out in surprise. Fumbling, you crash onto your knees in an attempt to catch your phone, managing to cushion what would've surely been a screen shattering fall to a short, edge denting clatter. You can't help the pathetic whine that escapes your lips; from being startled, dropping your phone, the ache in your knees, and the fact that the ritual most likely didn't work.

Shaking away the jitters, you blink, momentarily blinded by the light of your phone as it shows you the identity of the caller. You pick up after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“GIRL! WHERE ARE YOU!?” Jaehee's voice screeches through. You pull away, wincing and even from a distance, she speaks as if she's right beside you. “IT'S ALMOST FOUR IN THE MORNING AND IT'S BEEN TWO HOURS SINCE I GOT HOME! TWO HOURS!! AND NO TEXT OR CALL OR ANYTHING?! I THOUGHT YOU GOT KIDNAPPED!”

You sigh, guilt washing over you as you can hear how palpable her worry is. It'd completely slipped your mind to text her that you would be home late. You drag a hand down your face, feeling drained as your night's escapades start to catch up to you and answer Jaehee less she was going to pop a blood vessel.

“Y-Yeah sorry, sorry. I forgot I had to go somewhere and sort of lost track of time, also didn't help that I missed the last bus to get home so...”

“Do you need me to send an Uber? Where did you go? Are you far?”

“No, no it's okay Jaehee, I'll be home in a few minutes don't worry.” You reassure. You end the call after convincing Jaehee that you're absolutely fine and not being held at gunpoint. Looking down at the mess you've made, you can't help the small chortle as it dawns on you that this is definitely not something you should leave behind any evidence of – you don't think families or the elderly would appreciate finding out that there's been some occult funny business going on right outside their homes.

Whoops.

You gather the candles once the wax has dried, stuffing them back into the brown paper bag along with the little jars and vials you used. You sweep away the salt and remnants of the herbs as best you can, pushing them into the grass inconspicuously. For the ink staining your wrists, you wet your fingers with your tongue and rub until all that's left is a blotchy mess. Now all that remains was the chalk drawing of the summoning circle. At first you tried scuffing as much of it with the soles of your shoes but all that does was slightly smudge it, the markings still clear as day.

“Uhhh.....” You flounder, not knowing what to do with your hands before you give your bag a thorough rifle and triumphantly pull out an old water bottle still half full. This will do. You empty it over the drawing, making sure to try and get as much of it as you can. Thankfully, it dissolves without much resistance and you chuck the plastic bottle into the trash can. Sure there might be a few marks left over but it was hardly discernible and honestly, you can't be bothered with any more efforts. You're tired and you just want to go to sleep.

So you head on home without so much as another thought on your mind, oblivious to the ghostly white wisps of smoke trailing after you.

-

Jaehee was on you the moment you stepped through the door, already interrogating you and going as far as to ask if it had anything to do with trying to find Jimin. You should've figured she would assume that, knowing how troubled you were about his absence. At least because of that, she was somewhat more understanding but had made you promise you would let her know if you were going to be out past 2AM.

“I know how worried you are about him, but I don't want you going out and endangering yourself trying to find him like that. You shouldn't have to get hurt because of some bad decisions he chose to make.”

You really wished it was that simple.

So you placate her by saying that you had tried to meet with a friend of Jimin's only to be stood up at the last minute, completely not his fault. She let you go then, still miffed but otherwise glad that you're safe otherwise. You fall into a deep sleep that night the moment your head touches the pillow, exhausted.

It'd been the longest sleep you've ever had. You wake up groggy as all hell but with a new weight on your chest.

Your only lead in finding your guardian demon didn't work and the blow hits harder than you want to admit. It continues to follow you the days going forward, plaguing your mind with one question; where do you go from here?

Should you try other methods to summon a demon? Are there other methods? If so, then what? Try to find a local witch? It eats away at you and you swear you would've fallen into a manic obsession if it weren't for your friends. Like a saving grace, you get a text for an invitation to hang out on the preface that it's been a while and truthfully, it has. The last time you all had the time to gather together was before the BTS concert. At first you had wanted to decline, thinking you're not in the right state of mind to enjoy hanging out leisurely but you second guess yourself; maybe you do need a distraction, something to help clear your mind from this dark void that's taken over your life so that you can regroup and figure out what's your next best course of action.

The final push was Jaehee who practically forces you to go out at this golden opportunity, rightfully concerned about the haggard look you're starting to take on. So you pull yourself together, slap on some makeup to not look as dead on the outside as you feel on the inside, and take your ass out of the house.

It was no less a struggle, feeling as if you had to drag your feet every step of the way to the meeting spot you all agreed to. Doesn't help that the weather today was muggier than usual despite the sky being overcast, the sun constantly peeking in and out from behind the thick clouds that drift by. You don't remember it calling for rain today so you keep your fingers crossed, not liking the way some of the clouds appear darker than the others and you not bothering to bring an umbrella.

Thankfully when you reached the subway station, you're greeted by two of your friends who are already there, their cheerfulness lifting your spirits slightly.

“Y/N!!” Rosa squeals delightedly, coming to embrace you with a big hug. You let out a small 'oof' at her enthusiasm but bring your arms up to squeeze her back too.

“Hey, oh man it feels like forever since we've seen each other.” You part from Rosa to give your other friend a hug.

“Right? Oh my god...when was it? Like, before the concert?” Mei points out. “What's even sadder is that we always talked about meeting up and doing something but just...never did, for like weeks.”

Rosa laughs, “That's basically what being an adult is.”

You continue to chat idly, waiting for the rest of your other friends to show and when they do, you head on over to your favourite cafe as your first pit stop. You catch up with everyone and mainly talk about what you were all up to, which you can't exactly disclose in too much detail beyond 'working and sleeping'. It leaves much to be desired for an engaging conversation and you find yourself struggling for the first time with this disconnect, made more obvious when your friends mention any latest BTS content they've seen.

“You haven't seen this yet?!” Jess exclaims to you. She flashes you a high-definition picture no doubt taken by a fan site of Jimin on her phone, probably in the midst of their EU leg of the tour. He looks like a literal angel, dressed in all white with arms outstretched in a way that any second, you would think wings would appear, the glare of the spotlight illuminating behind him as he gazes out into the sea of purple twinkling lights. It's a breathtaking photo but right now, it's so bittersweet to be looking at him like this. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It suddenly feels like you're living in a dream and the person you're trying to chase is nothing but a phantom, their face slowly fading from your memories and you're desperately trying to hold on.

You swallow, the tightness in your throat becoming uncomfortable as you force an apologetic smile on your face, straining. “I really didn't have time to catch up on anything lately.”

You follow your friends from one place to another afterwards, complacent in their decisions and growing more and more despondent in your responses. Whatever energy you had before to try and maintain a farce is long gone now and it doesn't go unnoticed by your group.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Sonya asks gently, falling back to where you're hanging near the front of a cute stationary shop you all decided to randomly stop by. You go to open your mouth, ready to deny but then stop yourself, seeing no use in it. So all that comes out is a defeated sigh that has your shoulders slumping.

“Sorry, I don't know, I felt fine when I left home but I guess not...”

“Did you want to maybe get some water? I have Advil in my bag if you want. Or if you want we can walk you back home?” Sonya suggests helpfully. You give her a weak smile, declining with a wave of your hand.

“No, it's okay. Maybe if I rest a little....”

“You don't have to force yourself if you're not feeling it. If you feel like you wanna go home then we don't mind.”

You still feel guilty even though you know Sonya means everything that she says. The guilt only intensifies when the rest of your friends gather from browsing or buying something, immediately worried once they've caught on the rather serious air surrounding you and Sonya. In the end, you had decided maybe it was better to call it quits here, not wanting to trouble or ruin what was supposed to be a fun outing between friends because you're getting too much in your head. After apologizing for having to leave early and fight off their insistence on walking you back to the subway station, you part ways.

You've ended up in the deeper parts of the city, so it would take about six stops for you to get to the station nearest to your place. First though, you had a bit of a walk, either to get back to the station you exited from or the next stop over three blocks up the street, usually something you wouldn't mind if not for the looming dark clouds above you that had taken over the sky completely, plunging the world around you in a deep gloom. With no sun in sight, it makes the summer solstice 6PM look like it's winter's.

You go at a brisk pace, choosing to go back the way you came since you're more familiar with that route. The wind begins to pick up, a sure sign of the coming storm and you dread being caught out at this rate. Up ahead is a stoplight, the one where you're supposed to cross the street at but you're tempted to just cut across the road now, wanting to save time. The traffic here isn't busy with hardly any cars passing through so once you see that it's a red light on both sides, you make a run for it.

You're just about halfway to the other side when you feel the toe of your shoes catching on the asphalt and you're suddenly stumbling forward with your momentum. You're bracing for the fall but before you could let out a gasp, a strange sensation passes over you, like being suspended in midair. It goes by so quickly that you don't have the time to register the impact it makes because a split second later, a black sedan barrels past you, honking loudly as it goes and so closely you think it would've grazed your nose.

Body rigid, you're frozen from the shock, heart pounding loudly and with a mind now kicked into flight or fight mode, you sprint the rest of the way on shaky, clumsy limbs. You nearly collapse once you've reached the safety of the other side, taking deep breaths to calm yourself and the adrenaline running through you.

Either you should've looked both ways more carefully or that asshole just blew through a red light going a hundred kilometres on an eighty speed limit.

You're gonna go with the asshole because you swear the lights were red. You made sure of it.

Straightening yourself, you hoist your tote bag up your shoulders again and continue to make your way down the street. By then, it has begun drizzling, the droplets falling so erratically and lightly that they get carried by the wind. It makes it hard to avoid and only serves to further irritate you. It's a straight walk from here, you don't think you have to worry about nearly dying again so you keep your head down, one hand raised in an attempt to shield yourself from the spattering rain. You turn the corner at the end of the block, peering up to see the tall station street sign looming ahead and you've never been more relieved, powering on to reach it if only to escape the steadily increasing downpour.

So caught up in closing the last bit of distance, you're jerked out of your focus when there was a loud shout of alarm.

“HEY WATCH IT!”

Instinctively, your steps slow, body turning towards the noise in trying to find the owner of the voice. Your eyes whip to see a few people huddling under an overhang to a high-rise building you passed but what's more concerning is where their gaze is focused – widen in fear, their necks craning up, and some even rushing towards your direction, waving frantically to get your attention. It's when you follow their line of sight do you understand why.

Three stories high you spot the outlines of glass panels that line the edges of the balcony, only to your horror, many of them were teetering precariously off of their hinges with no hopes of hanging on because seconds later, their weight gives way and two of them begin to free fall.

Right above you.

You hear rather than see the first one crashing onto the pavement mere inches behind you, the sound much like that of rolling thunder that you can easily mistaken it as part of the stormy weather. You think you feel the pinpricks of glass shards spraying up to scratch your legs but all you can think is where was the second panel? You feel like you can't move your legs fast enough, so frazzled with your mind racing to barely process what is happening and eyes searching wildly but seeing nothing as if you've been blinded.

A chill runs through you then, an icy cold grip that holds you hostage and you wonder idly if this is how you're really going to die. A poor, unfortunate girl who met her demise because of some rotten luck and a freak accident.

And there it was again, that weightless feeling surrounding you, except now there's a distinct tugging as you feel yourself being pulled backwards. All at once, a flash of light goes off right in front of you, shimmering so brilliantly in an arc shape that it has you shutting your eyes, hands thrown up in protection and a gust of air whistles past your ears along with another resounding crash. It's so strong you momentarily feel the rain stop falling around you and you trip backwards, landing on your behind in a crumpled mess.

When you finally open your eyes, you're staring at a pile of frosted glass right where you had been standing, the glittering shards curving outward as if something had forced it away. You can't stop the tremors that shake through your body, breath coming out in short gasps.

What was that just now? There's no way that couldn't have hit you, you practically had a target marker right over your head for it.

Your head is spinning, barely hearing how a small crowd begins to gather around you, some approaching you while there are others who are on their phones, no doubt calling the fire department to report the incident. You're helped to your feet, are asked if you're injured and if you needed medical help, all of which you answer no thoughtlessly. You're more concerned with something else.

There's something else at work here; the first time you would've brushed it off as a trick of your mind but this time, it's just too coincidental. You swivel your head around, not even sure what you're looking for but you can't stop the traitorous surge in hope within you.

You nearly miss it.

Through the dispersing crowd you see two shadowy figures, concealed in the depths of an alley, so well hidden thanks to the darkness of the looming clouds and the still cascading rain. You stare with baited breath, watching the scene unfold as one of the figure grips the other in their hand, raising them until their feet dangled off the ground. They struggle uselessly and claw at the strong hold to no avail. Then, with an inhumane strength, they are slammed into the wall as if they were a rag doll. But to your shock, the crumpled body dissolves in a flurry of ashes and smoke, a few flickers of orange light seeping through before disappearing like dying embers on coal. You dare not take your eyes away, much less blink in fear of it being merely an illusion.

Yet the image before you doesn't fade, even though it seems like you're the only one who can see it. You watch the way the now lone figure struggles to remain upright, a hand reaching up to grasp at their head as if suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. It's then you realize they had been wearing a hood because the dark fabric falls away then, revealing to you a pale face you had not seen in so long.

“Jimin....” His name falls from your trembling lips in a mere whisper before you can stop yourself, breath caught in your throat and as if he had heard you, his gaze whips to your direction.

Your eyes lock on the familiar glow of crimson. Your heart lurches.

And then he takes off.

Panicked, you scramble to push past the few lingering bodies out of your way, feet kicking into a dead sprint, eyes never leaving his retreating back. You rush into the alley without a second thought, weaving and dodging the waste, dumpsters and other things that were lost and abandoned there. You're panting in your efforts to keep up, barely having time to call out to him but try as you might, you cannot hope to catch up to someone who's abilities far outweighs your own and after minutes of winding and sharp turns, you lose sight of him.

You come to a halt, lungs burning from exertion as your eyes dart this way and that but come up empty in what you're looking for. You curse loudly, distress taking over as you grab a fistful of your own hair. After the adrenaline begins to die down, you begin to take in your surroundings. So caught up in your pursuit of him, you failed to notice the unfamiliar streets you've ended up on. You don't know how far you've strayed, can't tell whether going up or down would be the best option in finding your way back but above all, you can't believe you let him slip from your grasp like that.

“Fuck....!” You hiss again, hands balling themselves into fists. The boiling anger makes you tremble more than the cold rain that begins to soak into you; anger at yourself for being so helpless, anger at Jimin for how distant he's become with no explanation. Were you not worth telling anything important to? The thought quells the anger to a hurt and the realization that your fears are more than likely to be true. Yet still, you don't want to confirm them, stubborn to deny it until you get answers – you needed proof. And the only way you're going to get that is to get to the bottom of it, no matter what. With nothing more to gain standing there, you reluctantly turn back to the way you came, mind frayed at the seams from all that has happened.

You don't make it two steps before someone grabs you and your screams are smothered by a hand.

[hqprotectionsquad]

𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒚 - 𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒛𝒖𝒎𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒋𝒊𝒎𝒆

⤷ 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒊𝒕.  ⤷ 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊'𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒌𝒆𝒚 ⤷ 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

words: 3311

tw: brief mentions of partying and alcohol

“You’ll never find your soulmate, loser. I don’t even know why you keep trying,” one of the girls in your class smirks above you as she says this. She approaches you at your desk, furnished with permanent marker stains that you’ve attempted to wipe away. There’s no point. You’re seen just as dirty as your now gray desk. Two other girls flank her sides and knock a few things to the floor.

You don’t say a word because if you say something, they will immediately be twisted. Nothing hurts more than sitting through dozens of monthly soulmate ceremonies in school. Why do they need to celebrate when someone finds their other half when it’s expected in society anyways? What’s there to brag about? You can’t lie when there’s a nudging squeeze in your heart when you see all of the pairs forming a horizontal line on the school stage, reciting the poem you can say with your eyes shut and brain asleep. Sitting in the audience while everyone finds their true love burns a fire in your soul.

Your eyes trace imaginary lines into your uniform and you wait until you can hear their laughter drifting away. Your fingers reach for your belongings because this isn’t a fiction story where your soulmate will brush your knuckles as he reaches for your pencil case and you meet eyes. This isn’t a romance novel. This is the way your life goes, even if you’re the only one in your class that apparently hasn’t seen your soulmate.

Many people meet theirs in their childhood, or a popular way to meet their soulmates is when they’re first enemies and gradually become lovers. What’s the probability that you might fall in love in a cliché way that would make you want to roll your eyes otherwise? You’re only in high school. It shouldn’t matter because you’ll eventually meet your soulmate.

You’re now in college. Still, you’ve never taken part in a soulmate ceremony, but now, the university you attend holds these ceremonies in private instead of major assemblies in front of the entire student body. Part of you is very thankful for not having the want to gouge your eyes out every time someone bragged that they’ve been on stage to commemorate finding their soulmate. Another part of you is confused because how else will you find out who does or doesn’t have a soulmate? Many people are very private about their personal lives and won’t let you know until you maintain a very strong relationship with them. 

You, on the other hand, have no problem playing with the fates of time and love. At this point, you’ve almost lost all strength in your wishes of having a soulmate. Your roommate, Hitoka, will tell you on their way out everyday, “You never know who you’ll meet!” Yet, nearly every day is as boring as the last.

“I’m going to start seeing people,” you break the silence as you and your roommate are up one night while working on homework. You sink into your respective beds, hunching over your laptops and miscellaneous papers that won’t mean anything in four years.

“Like how?” Hitoka uses her knuckle to brush a hair out of her face, taking a moment to cast you a confused glance. Just as quick as she looks at you, she’s back to her own work.

“Well, I don’t know. Dates, probably sex. I don’t know if it’ll lead to a soulmate but I’ve almost given up on trying to find one. It’s like the universe hates me or something.” You sigh, placing your pencil to the side. “At this point, it’s not even something I’m actively seeking.”

“You should keep trying,” she tells you while she taps her head with the eraser of her pencil. “I met my soulmate a few years ago, but I didn’t know she was my soulmate until last year.”

“How did you know you clicked?” The homework is off to the side now. Talking about soulmates is much more interesting. You can always finish it in the morning. “Everyone always says that they meet their soulmates, they throw huge parties, but they never reveal how they knew they were the one.”

That is the most frustrating thing about this societal match up system. Even your parents told you that when you meet the right person, you would know. Back then, you found it so endearing, but as you grew older and wiser, you can see it’s just a way to make sure nobody cheats their way into a relationship that isn’t meant for them.

For a brief moment, you think she’ll brush it off to the side and tell you it’s something you figure out on your own. “Well, I joined the volleyball club as a manager because she was actually recruiting people and I was the only person who was up to it. I was so scared because she’s so pretty and so intriguing, and I’m just me.” The grin on her face stretches as she reminisces. It almost erupts a green flame in your stomach, but you push down any harmful feelings. “I was really shy, and I saw some really tall guys who looked super scary. And now, I’m standing in front of the door because I’m too scared to go inside. I eventually made it inside, but that’s just when we met. Last year, when she was paying a visit to the high school, I was pushed into her and I think it was just magic. I swear we were glowing, and she told me she was glowing.” Hitoka scratches her head. “The funny thing is, when we asked the volleyball team if they saw the light, they said they didn’t even notice I got pushed into her.”

“That’s...that’s amazing.”

Thus begins your search for your soulmate. Something about what your roommate said that day, you can’t pin it down, but something so wonderful brews within your heart. A new fire has come to the light in your soul and you’re ready for the mission.

You try to brush against other people when passing by them. Take friends’ hands if they aren’t uncomfortable with touching. Drop your books and give the helper a hug for doing something they didn’t have to do, and they fall into your half purposeful, half by accident trap.

Nothing you do makes anything feel right. In fact, it feels like the harder you try, the further you’re straying from your soulmate. 

“Maybe you’re just looking at everything in the wrong approach,” your roommate says nonchalantly, just putting in her two cents while you both wind down for the night. She’s brushing her hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror on the left side of the room. On the right side of the room, you sit at your desk, looking into the mirror sitting next to your lamp. Wouldn’t it be easy to pinpoint the reason why you haven’t met your soulmate yet? With each passing second, the resolve seems farther away, as if it is purposely running away from you. “Have you tried sex yet?”

You bite your lip. You’ve forgotten that you told her you’d do something like that, but you never followed up on your solutions. “Um, no.” Would it be too embarrassing to tell a potential hook up to be careful because you haven’t tried it yet?

“Go to the next party and I’m sure you’ll find someone. Even if they’re not the one, you’ll have a fun night. Maybe you just can’t think about things, you know? They can’t really come if you’re forcing it.” Hitoka nods to affirm you, and then without another word, she rests her head on her pillow and turns on her side.

You nod to nobody and slide under the covers with unease settling in between your bones. This feeling is as physical as it is mental; your bones tighten with your lungs squeezing. Nothing you shouldn’t be not used to, though. Ever since you recommended temporary relationships as a temporary solution, pangs attack your gut like nobody’s business. What is your body trying to warn you? Or maybe it is a sign to look for what is to come?

Whatever it is, you take it along with you to a party that an acquaintance invited you to. No frat parties for you, but club events usually have free food and drinks, and nobody is trying to take advantage of you for a ratio. It’s off-campus and you hail down a cab to take you to the location.

“Holy God,” you mutter, stepping out of the car, one foot at a time after paying your fee. Slamming the door, the driver almost immediately takes off, your arm seconds close to being detached from your body. “This can’t be a house.” It’s a towering complex of some sorts, three stories above the ground. No wonder it’s off-campus housing. It looks like it’s someone’s parent’s house with its carefully trimmed lawn and pristine windows that, you’re sure, some kid was privileged and invited friends to live with them.

“Coming in?” A girl beckons, waving you out of your rose-colored fog. “This is for the debate and engineering clubs, a joint party of some sorts.” Right, clubs that you have no membership in, but luckily, nobody really cares about that. 

You follow her into the house and it is as stunning as the outside. Vaulted ceilings greet you in the foyer and you’re certain the rooms can never be counted in full. The furniture looks perfect despite students hanging from each bit of it, slurping mixed alcohol and scarfing down snacks from the convenience store.

“Is there any particular reason for celebration?” You ask, but when you shift your head from focusing back on the girl, she’s long gone. The rest of the party is a blur. You don’t drink too much and you’re basically sober by the end of the occasion, and you wish you weren’t, to be frank. As toxic as your mentality is, you just want a reason to get out of your head for a night. Now, the real problem is trying to get home. The taxi driver earlier demanded two times the price of a usual drive, just because it was slightly out of his range, and presently, you flip through your bills, or rather, your lack of many.

“Hey, do you need help?” A boy with spiky hair approaches you. “You look a little lost and we’re about to finish for the night.”

The weight in your chest sinks even lower. With no friends here, you have no one to hitch a ride from and no one to call at this late hour. You thread your fingers through your hair without a word.

“Hey, don’t cry. Do you need a place to stay or something? Campus is kind of far from here, I wouldn’t mind opening my doors if you need.”

Your eyes widen and your heart freezes in the mix of blood and plasma. “Uh,” you’re basically speechless and your mouth moves up and down. “I don’t know if that’s safe.”

His hands raise to the shoulders of his hoodie, shaking his fingers. “I wouldn’t do anything like that. I don’t really take girls to my place, but I promise if you just need a place to crash, you can come. But of course, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just thought you’d want to postpone the ride until later, they upcharge even more in the middle of the night.”

Spiky hair boy makes a point. “Okay, thank you. What’s your name?” You ask as he leads and heads out of the house. What kind of dude does this? Is he some kind of simp, willing to do anything for a girl? Whoever he is, his face does not match his subservient personality.

“My name is Hajime.”

“I’m Y/N.” You keep your words to a minimum, just as a preventative measure. What if he sells your information on the internet, or plans on spreading rumors about you and all he needs is your first name? Your mind keeps swirling with the possibilities that he takes your hand in his.

“You look really pale. Are you okay? My apartment is only two blocks away. You just have to stick it out until then.” Hajime loops his arm under your shoulder to keep you balanced. Maybe he’s just a nice boy. Hasn’t his mom ever told him that nice boys finish last? He won’t ever get a soulmate if he’s this nice to you.

When you make it to the apartment, a new surge of energy rushes through your veins. “It’s two in the morning, you shouldn’t be this excited,” you mutter to yourself. To him, you ask, “You have a clean apartment. Is it just you here?”

“Yeah. I just like my area neat.” It shows, from the frugal amount of items in the garbage can to the lack of specks on his wooden desk next to the bed. “I can give you some clothes and a toothbrush, but besides that, I don’t really have any other stuff to share.”

“Thank you,” your voice trails off when you sit on the edge of his bed, which is neatly made with navy blue sheets that are pulled up to only two pillows. This is a simple man’s apartment, one that is evidently made for one person. Hajime is fetching the things he said he would, and your hands are folded into each other. Your fingers crunch against the opposite knuckles. Something is off about him and you can’t tell what.

With a hint of a smile, he hands off the clothing and the packaged toothbrush. “I just found whatever would fit you.” You take them, your brows gnawing at the center of your forehead. His own clothes lay in your hands and you can’t stop looking at them. His shirt and his pair of sweats are in your hands and somehow, your fingers won’t stop shaking. “What’s wrong?”

“I, I don’t know. I’m sorry, let me just change and get out of your way. The quicker I go to bed, the quicker I’ll get out of your hair.” His really beautiful hair, you think off-handedly. “That door over there is the bathroom, right?” You stand and you tilt your head back a little to get a better look of his face. He’s a serious looking guy and you wouldn’t want to cross paths with him on the street or even a classroom. 

“Right.” 

But even now, barely knowing him, you know he has a record of being a supportive person. You can tell. He’s probably the type to place a 500 yen bill into a person’s charity bucket and the type to be kind to everyone, no matter who they are. What kind of connection are you really feeling here?

You rush towards the door, fumble with the knob, and finally, you’re into his small rectangle of a bathroom. Your back presses against the door and your eyes shut as air comes in and out of your nose. “Oh my God.” Heat flows in your body and especially to your cheeks, as you see in the mirror. Is he experiencing the same emotions you are?

No. It can’t be possible and you refute any ideas that come to your head. This is silly! You’re just sleep deprived and you’re not thinking straight. You splash some water onto your face and stare into your reflection. These dark circles underneath your puffy eyes are a sign that you shouldn’t be thinking so hard. First, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush and some toothpaste you found in his cabinet. Then, you slip out of your damp clothing. You glide into his shirt that reaches to your thighs and his sweatpants that have extra fabric that pool at your ankles. You don’t need to intentionally sniff into the material to have his scent ingrained in your head.

“All good in there, (Y/N)?”

You come face to face with him after opening the door. “Yep, all good. Thanks for lending me your clothes and the toothbrush.” You slip past him, allowing yourself space. “Is it cool if I just put my stuff in this corner?”

He nods and then he bites his lip. “Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” You couldn’t believe that the one time you actually get into a man’s bed, it’s not for a date or sex. The two things you wanted to do to mess around are thrown out the window. Would it be too early to rule them out?

It is too early to rule them out. You just met him, though he is a very kind person. It’s your tired brain trying to run faster than it can. You slip under the covers, it’s the same scent as before. It’s a mix of husky man and detergent, something you’d never really understand outside of a man’s apartment. Your head sinks into the pillow and you shut your eyes.

After ten minutes, you shift positions, fluff the pillow, count sheep. Nothing. You sit up, squinting your eyes to see Iwaizumi’s bare back hiding behind a sheet while he sleeps on the floor. He’s illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the one window in the apartment. Even though you’ve taken his source of comfort, he is taking it in stride.

“Are you awake?”

Iwaizumi hums in return.

“Thank you.”

“For what exactly?”

“For being you. I know we just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for a long time.”

Disregarding what you said, Iwaizumi sits up and stares at you. “Do you have a soulmate?”

“No. You?”

“No. Maybe we’re each other’s.”

All you can hear is your breathing and his in this quiet apartment. It’s quiet enough to hear yourself gulp. “I think we are.” How else can you explain how you’ve been feeling? Is this what Hitoka meant when you’d know? “How do we know for sure?” You’ve hardly been shy all of your life, yet now when you meet someone who could be your soulmate, you’re crawling into your skin.

“We can let this be our one night. If we don’t feel a connection, then I guess we aren’t soulmates.” Hajime says this all while biting down on his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to look at you, but he forces himself to make eye contact.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” There’s no going back anymore.

Hajime tosses his sheet off of his legs and sits on the edge of the bed, dangerously close to you. He takes one of your hands into his and studies the way your eyes look up and down, from either looking at all parts of him or just not wanting to look into his. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper and after releasing one breath, your hands nestle along the dips connecting his neck to his shoulders and you kiss him. Your lips are on his and you’re lacing your fingers through his hair, taking him all in, taking this whole experience in. Your hands fit perfectly in his, your lips press against his in the perfect mold, and you wouldn’t be surprised if when you hug him, it’ll feel like the world melts away. Honestly, even though you told Hitoka you’d be fine with messing around, maybe you were just waiting for the right person. He doesn’t have to be perfect right now, but he will be the one who throws out all of the lists of traits you wanted in a soulmate. He will end up being the one item on your list.

And here he is in front of you, clutching onto your body like his life depended on it and basking in the presence of an almighty moon.

tag-list: @clowninfortodoroki

[isolctions]

Wedding ring emoji for ur current active muses (headcanon meme)

headcanon prompts

💍 — does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic?

ASPEN: she truly does not have a type??? i feel like aspen is honestly just shocked yet excited that anyone is showing her enough interest to consistently want to spend time with her, let alone date her! and while i do feel like she would like to have people that are compatible with her, either as an opposites attract sort of situation to help get her out of her comfort zone or someone that shares similar interests with her, i do feel like aspen having a sort of hopeless romanticism about her would lead her to put herself in a toxic situation simply because she tries to see the best in people — and again, she's so focused on the fact that someone showed positive interest in her in general that she wouldn't want to see their faults out of fear of losing that. but...she also has ilyssa who is murderously protective over her well-being / offspring that she's verse-dependently carrying, so the situation should hopefully not get that far.

ILYSSA: ilyssa historically only ever wanted an equal that she could feel whole with. she does typically go for other supernatural creatures / entities / enhanced humans because she's a cocky bitch and also because she does seek out a partner that has power, but humans can be an exception depending on what kind of human they are. (basically, if she thinks you're too worthy to be eaten and mutilated, that's a pretty good indicator that she's fond of you.) things do kinda get toxic with her because she's an extremely bitter former angel and thrives off of negativity and violence, but i only really foresee that if she's with a person that's morally opposite of her, and she tries not to go for people with a conscience. just makes things messy.

ZEPHYR: i swear these questions are so hard to answer in a non-biased way because she has a whole marriage with two kids now...BUT ALL OF THAT ASIDE! zephyr's type of person is generally someone that shares similar traits as her. she isn't extremely big on trying new things and that includes dating people that are out of her normal comfort zone, but it isn't something that she's completely opposed to just because zephyr also likes to experience new points of view as well — nobody wants to be with someone that's so similar that the routine gets boring. and while she does not actively seek out toxic relationships (not unless she's drunk off her ass sending texts at 3 in the morning because arguing turns her on sometimes.), zephyr has been known to get herself into some situations and stay with a bad person just because she doesn't want things to change, or because they have good sex or whatever.

JAIRA: jaira has been with all kinds of people, so her "type" is largely diverse and not at all specific to just one kind of personality or behavior. she does want things to be exciting at times and she does enjoy spontaneity and romance and all that mushy gushy stuff, but she also likes people that she can take things slow with, just enjoying the time they have together in peace and quiet without any extra noise going on in the background. (and yes, different "kinds" of people include different species. she leans more towards shifters, immortals, and the occasional werewolf / cat / what may have you, but that just depends on the personality because she isn't fond of all of them. she's a sucker for humans, and largely avoids relationships with other vampires after decades with luciano.) while jaira is too damn old for new aged toxicity, she does love her a good enemies with benefits. why? idk. just to keep things spicy, i guess.

RUE: rue's actual dating history is pretty empty and bleak. she wasn't really allowed to date when she was a teenager because she had an abusive overbearing mother with psychic abilities and was extremely shy / socially stunted, and a good 80% of the relationships she's been in as an adult were label-made. one thing for certain is that she does not want someone similar to her in terms of a career — she's been there, has done that, isn't really impressed by it. (if she does date someone who shares fame, though, she wants someone that can actually like...understand her. which is rare when your personality is not even fully you and no one knows you're a psychic witch but your family.) she'd like to be with someone that is compatible, yes, but above all she wants someone with a lifestyle that's entirely different than hers is, simply because this woman has not known a minute of peace since birth and craves that in a person. is she prone to toxicity? yeah. sometimes she's the toxic one because her schedule makes her very inconsistent, she's a liar, she's currently a binge drinker, and she gets bored very easily. but she does not seek to attract that.

IZIDORA: izidora doesn't really actively seek out relationships, simply because she doesn't really know how to maintain a healthy one. she grew up in an unstable environment with absent parents and emotionally absent caregivers aside from her grandmother, and her aunt's boyfriend was abusive towards her aunt, herself, and her sister as well as being the cause of all of her [redacted] trauma. ideally, she seeks out people who are not only just as aggressive as she is but people that she knows can protect her and that she can be vulnerable with. she is extremely prone to falling into toxic situations because she takes relationships to extreme levels (either too distant, emotionally unavailable and closed off or too extreme, aggressive, sometimes can be hypersexual and may even be violent), and truthfully izidora isn't above defending herself physically by use of either weapons or magic. yet at the same time, izidora can actually be really shy with relationships? especially when they're new??? so whether it's someone she's compatible with personally wise or someone that's outside of her comfort zone, it honestly varies on what kind of behavior the person exhibits because she's largely a reactive person as a defense mechanism.

APPLE: listen, apple does not have a type at all. personally i think it would be funny to see her in a relationship with someone who's morally opposite of her and probably an absolutely atrocious being in general simply because i go a special kind of crazy for villainous characters that are mean to everyone but their sunshine s/o. but enough about me. i feel like apple is open to experiencing all kinds of different people with all kinds of scenarios, and does tend to lean towards supernatural entities, especially witches / other fae or elven folk, because hello, they're both different from society! they are the same! they can be useful to each other while also protecting each other! (also? i personally believe a fae / werewolf couple...makes...sense? it makes sense. don't ask me to explain i will not.) as for situations of toxicity...um, not gonna happen. you can't play a fae. and while apple can be gullible and come off as really friendly and non-threatening, her powers (and her old magic) will override any situation deemed unsafe and she will send that ass to a realm to suffer for all eternity so fast. so no crazy shit around here, folks!

[crazycat-88]

Male Spider Monster Silus x Gender Neutral Reader (SFW)

Note: This is my first piece of writing in a very long time and my first exophilia story. Written for the awesome OkCryptid Collab. Its also the first instalment of a series of stories I’m currently working on.

A huge thanks goes to @thetravelerwrites for proofreading/editing this piece. She’s an absolute star and fantastic writer, who dedicates a lot of her time to this community, supporting other writers and helping readers find exophilia works by maintaining both the OkCryptid Masterlist & the Exophilia Creators Masterlist. So go give her your love and support over on her blog.

Without further ado, here’s 4,124 words of human/monster romance. Hope you enjoy it.

Sitting at your desk, trying to write the newest chapter of your latest novel, you sigh when you her a ping from your mobile. In all honesty, the distraction is welcome; you’ve been suffering from a major case of writer's block and you’d take any excuse to put your work aside.

Checking your notifications, you sigh again when you see it’s from OkCryptid, the monster and cryptid dating app created to help monsters find mates, that you’d downloaded a couple of weeks beforehand. You had hoped it would give you a better chance at finding the one but so far you’d had the same amount of luck that you had with every other app on the market. Which was none.

You hadn’t been on a date in months. Your last relationship was over three years ago and so far things weren’t looking very positive with this new dating app. Since joining, there were very few matches and all the messages you’d received were either from men just looking to hook up for that night or they were dick pics. You couldn’t fathom why anyone thought that sending a picture of their dick would somehow seduce you but they did it anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you check to see what it’s notifying you off and you see that you have a new match and have been sent a new message from a user named Silus. Swearing to yourself that if it’s another unsolicited picture you were deleting the app, you open the message first without bothering to check his profile. No point in getting your hopes up before seeing what he’s sent you.

[Sent: 2:47pm] Silus: Hey, how are you today? I’ve recently just moved to the area and we’ve matched… So I thought I’d just say hi…

Well, that was a good start. It's certainly the nicest message you’ve received so far. Deciding to check his profile, you gasp, seeing that he’s an arachnid, specifically a spider type, which you’d never seen before.

Most arachnids chose to avoid the city, mainly due to their size and their preference for solitude. They weren’t known to be the most social of creatures and, despite being known to the general public for a couple of centuries, were one of the few species that shunned modern society, choosing to remain in forests or caves far from civilization. You weren’t sure if this was because of their nature or due to the fact that they were one of the few monsters many humans, and even some other monsters, still feared. Even those who weren’t outright scared of arachnid type monsters were still wary and uncomfortable around them.

You’re not sure how you feel about them, never having actually met one but you’re not exactly a fan of spiders. While you aren’t scared of them, they did make you squeamish. Shuddering thinking of the large spider you had to remove from your flat the day before, you decide to at least check over Silus’s profile and pictures.

His profile bio was short and sweet: he stated his name, age, and sexual orientation before going on to say that he loved plants and flowers, music, poetry and going for walks in the moonlight. He’d also added that he had just moved to the city and was looking to make new friends and hopefully find a mate. He had a gallery full of pictures, which were mostly pictures of various types of flowers, but he had a couple of himself.

Enlarging the first picture of himself, which was a selfie of just his face and torso, you were pleasantly surprised to find that you didn’t mind his spider features. His head and body was humanoid in shape, his skin incredibly pale and his very long, very straight hair was a shiny white. He had four eyes that were completely black with no sclera, those eyes sat in a row, with two larger in the centre and two smaller either side of those. His mouth was wide and in the photo he was grinning, showing that he had nothing but two large fangs in his upper jaw. His shoulders were broad and his torso was well built, with clearly defined muscles though he wasn’t overly muscular.

Swiping through his photos, you find another picture of him, this one being a full body shot which was clearly taken from a small distance. Here you could see his lower body where is torso ended and joined with his spider half, which looked large and bulbous, black in colour but covered in fine white hair which looked fuzzy. Attached to this body were eight long jointed legs which were also covered in fine white hairs. His legs looked as thick as tree trunks and you couldn’t be sure from looking at the photo but he looked huge.

This part of his body did make you apprehensive, and the more you look at it the worse you feel. Flicking between the two pictures you couldn’t decide if you were attracted to him or not. On one hand you found him incredibly beautiful, with his large pitch black eyes that you could easily get lost in and his gorgeous sleek looking hair and toned upper body. He also seemed sweet natured and had a lovely smile despite the fangs.

On the other hand, his spider lower half gave you the shivers and those long legs creeped you out. You cringed looking at them again and even thinking about those legs in motion made you shudder. Chewing on your lip you debated with yourself; you’d matched with him so obviously you had things in common and you didn’t have to jump into a relationship with him. You could always be friends first and see if it went anywhere. You just weren’t sure you could get over those eight legs…

Ping.

Startled, you look back at your phone which had gone to sleep at some point during your mental debate, and you see you have received another message from Silus.

[Sent: 3:16pm] Silus: I like your profile by the way, you’re very beautiful.... We must have a lot in common, I’ve been using this app for over a year now and I’ve never seen such a high percentage match...

Checking you see that he’s right, you’ve matched with him eighty-eight percent which was much higher than any other match you’d had and from everything you’d heard it was really rare to get a match that high. It was just your luck he had to be an arachnid, he seemed really nice too. Deciding to think further on it and make a decision later, you go back to writing, after all your novel wasn’t going to write itself.

A couple of hours later, feeling like you’ve made a lot of progress, you decide it’s time for some food. However a quick search around the kitchen reminds you that you’ve not been shopping in days. Take-away it is then.

Ping!

Frowning you see you’ve gotten another message from Silus, thinking he’s getting a little pushy, you open it to read.

[Sent: 5:30pm] Silus: Hey again, so I was thinking… I would understand if your not interested, many people don’t like arachnids…. I know a lot of people, especially humans are scared of my kind… But I hope you’ll give me a chance and see I’m not scary at all… or maybe your just busy or at work... Sorry...

Crap! You’d forgotten that your settings had been set to send read receipts. He knows you’ve read his messages and now thinks you’re ignoring him. You wonder how often that happens to him, he sounds so dejected and now you feel bad. He’d said in his earlier message that he’d been using the app for over a year so that meant he’d not had much luck finding someone. A bit like me then, thinking to yourself. Looking at his pictures again, you come to a decision.

[Sent: 5:32pm] You: Hi Silus, I’m good thanks and I was working… I am interested but to be honest I’ve never met an arachnid before and I’m unsure how I feel about it.

Silus: Oh my gosh, you replied :-) Thank you! It’s okay that you feel that way, at least you’re willing to give me a chance…

Silus: Lots of people are afraid of spiders and by extension spider monsters but honestly I wouldn’t hurt a fly…

Silus: …Well that’s a lie and probably a bad example, but really I’m not scary in the slightest…

Chuckling, you rather like Silus’s sense of humour though you’re not sure he was aiming to be funny. He was so sweet and seemed really surprised that you’d replied. Makes you wonder again how many people have ignored him just because of what he is.

You: Lol! I’m not scared of spiders exactly but they do make me uncomfortable… I’d like to get to know you though...

You: So… how are liking city life?

*************

You and Silus spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other. You learn that he works as a florist, that he’s renting a flat in the city centre and is flat sharing with a moth monster. Which did surprise you as you thought that their two species have a turbulent history. He asks what you do for work and then about the novel you’re currently writing.

The two of you end up talking long into the night and at some point you fall asleep still mid conversation. As soon as you wake up you're checking your phone for messages from Silus. You have two, the first answering the question you’d asked just before falling asleep and a second twenty minutes later where he says that he assumes you’ve falling asleep and to have sweet dreams.

Smiling to yourself, you send him a message confirming that you did in fact fall asleep and that you’re sorry about that. You then decide to get up and start your day. An hour later Silus is messaging you good morning and telling you not to worry about it. The two of you spend the rest of the morning chatting until he has to go to work. He messages again once he’s home from work and you spend the evening in the same manner as the night before.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern, work, eat and chat to Silus. By this point the two of you had swapped mobile numbers and were now communicating via both text and call. He had the loveliest voice and often during calls you forgot that you had to respond. Meeting in person wasn't a subject brought up until exactly one week after you’d first started chatting.

You were just sitting, eating lunch when you heard the ping of your mobile.

[Sent: 2:13pm] Silus: Afternoon gorgeous, are you free this evening? If you are, would you like to get a drink in town?

Taking a deep breath, you think it over, you really liked Silus and were pretty confident now that the two of you could really have something good together. Him being an arachnid no longer made you uncomfortable, at least in theory, but you were incredibly nervous. What if you saw him in person and you couldn’t see past those eight legs, you didn’t want to hurt him. Or what if when he saw you, he thought you weren’t as attractive in person. A previous date had told you that you looked thinner in your photos after all. You sigh, either way you had to know, for both your sakes.

You: Afternoon, I am free tonight and that would be lovely. Where were you thinking?

Silus: Great! :-D My flatmate works in this bar and restaurant which caters for folks like us, called The Bears Den, does that sound okay to you? It’s in city centre.

You: Yes of course! What time?

Silus: 6pm? Shall I come pick you up or would you rather we meet there?

You: 6 works for me. I’ll just meet you there, no point in you leaving the city centre to come collect me :-) I’ll get the bus, will only take me twenty minutes.

Silus: If you’re sure, I don’t mind the extra journey, I’d travel hours to pick you up ;-)

You: Lol, your so sweet but yes I’m sure. I’ll see you there at 6.

Silus: Alright then, I’ll meet you outside the bar. See you later gorgeous… can’t wait.

You: Me either! See you soon!

Checking the clock, you see that it was already 2:30pm and you had no idea what you were going to wear. Deciding your best bet would be to call your fashion-forward best friend and get her advice, your frustrated when she doesn’t answer. Oh well best go raid your wardrobe.

************

Your shaking with nerves by the time you get there and of course your twenty minutes early. Standing outside the bar feeling like an utter twit, you inspect the building. The outside is painted a glossy black and the name of the bar is painted in gold cursive above the very wide, very tall doors. It looked nice. Through the glass in the doors you could see the place already had a good number of patrons despite the early time.

You’re surprised and jump in shock when you hear your name spoken softly from behind you. Spinning around you come face to face with Silus, well more accurately you came face to stomach with Silus, because he was huge. Your breath catches in your throat and you gaze in astonishment at his form.

His large spider lower body was lowered to just inches off the ground and his long legs were arched upwards, their height reached to his human torso before coming back down to the ground. This close you could see that he had three claws at the end of each of those legs. Shifting your gaze back up, you took notice that he was wearing a smart midnight blue shirt before your attention was brought to his hands, which he was wringing togethering in nervousness. Looking to his face you could see that he looked wary but his mouth was turned up into a tentative smile.

It’s only when he quietly says your name and asks if you're alright that you realise that you’ve stood there just staring at him for the past two minutes. Giving yourself a mental shake you manage to give him a nod.

‘‘Yes! I’m good, thanks! Um... hi...’’ you giggle nervously.

‘‘Hi...’’ he replies, smile widening. ‘You still want to do this?’’

‘‘Yes, of course, sorry! Shall we go in?’’ You stammer.

Holding the door open for you, he shakes his head ‘‘No need to be sorry, I know I’m a lot to process.’’

‘‘Um... just a bit, I wasn’t expecting you to be so... big,’’ you stammer, as you pass under his arm into the bar.

‘‘Does it bother you?’’ He asks, as you make your way to the bar.

Shaking your head and giving him a smile over shoulder, you glance around the bar and see the vast majority of patrons are other non-humans. Behind the bar serving you spot a lizardfolk, who looks like a leopard gecko and a white tiger rakshasa. The rakshasa looks your way and raises a brow when he clocks Silus at your side. Making his way down the bar with a large grin on his face, you hear Silus let out a groan and suddenly he leans down to whisper in your ear, ‘‘He’s a harmless flirt.’’

‘‘What?’’ You stammer, but before he can say anything else the Rakshasa is standing in front of you and leaning over the bar to clasp Silus’s hand.

‘‘Ayaan,’’ Silus nods.

‘‘Silus,’’ rumbles the rakshasa, ‘‘It’s been awhile. Who’s your cute friend?’’ He says looking at you and giving you a wink.

Silus makes the introductions and as you give Ayaan your hand to shake, he leans down to kiss the back of your hand and gives you a cheeky grin. You understand now what Silus meant. Turning to Silus, Ayaan asks ‘‘Does Rowan know you’re out on a date?’’

‘‘Yes, and he’s upset he’s not here to see it’’ Silus replies, laughing. You give him a questioning look, but he just shakes his head at you and mouth’s later.

Turning back to Ayaan and ordering your drinks you head to a table towards the back of the bar where it’s quieter. Whilst you sit on a chair, Silus pushes the chair opposite you towards another table and lowers his spider body to the floor shifting his legs to a comfortable position. As you watch him do this, it occurs to you that your not feeling squeamish like you feared you might. In fact, your itching to lean over and see if those hairs are as fuzzy as they look. Giving Silus a smile, you see that he’s gazing just as intensely at you.

‘‘You’re very beautiful,’’ he says, swallowing nervously.

‘‘Thank you. So are you,’’ you reply, blushing.

‘‘No I’m not,’’ he says sadly, fixing you a look. ‘‘I look monstrous, I know that… but thank you for saying it anyway.”

Shaking your head you reply, ‘‘Yes, you are! You’re gorgeous, Silus…. at least you are to me, anyway,’’ you mumble shyly, reaching over the table to grasp his hand and squeezing it briefly.

Silus blushes prettily, looking at your hands shyly. Turning his hand around to clasp yours in a soft hold. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he says, sounding choked.

Hoping to distract him, you ask ‘‘So.. Is Ayaan a good friend of yours?’’

‘‘Oh yeah,’’ he replies shaking his head as if coming out of a daze, ‘‘I met him through Rowan.’’

‘‘And Rowan is? And why is he upset that he’s not here?’’ You ask raising a brow.

Chucking he replies, ‘‘Sorry, Rowans my flatmate and he’s upset because he thinks I’m probably going to make a fool of myself and he’s not here to see it…’’

‘‘Oh. Well... you haven’t, so he’s not missing anything,’’ you smile. “Is it his night off then?’’ You ask.

Shaking his head, ‘‘Nope, he would usually be working now but he’s gone home to West Oaks to attend one of his sister's wedding.’’

‘‘West Oaks? That’s where your from too right?’’ You ask.

Nodding, ‘‘Yeah... we grew up together, best friends since school. Neighbours too. We were both the youngest of all our many siblings so we spent our childhood bemoaning our lot in life.’’ He had a fond smile on his face.

‘‘You have a lot of siblings?’’ You ask sipping at your drink.

‘‘Yep! I’m one of twenty-six.’’ He grins.

‘‘No. Way.’’ you reply, sputtering.

Laughing, Silus nods ‘‘Arachnids tend to lay a lot of eggs... Moths do too, actually, Rowan is one of thirty.’’

‘‘Oh wow! No wonder the two of you banded together,’’ You say stunned.

‘‘Yeah, so when Ro decided he wanted to move to the city, I told him I was coming with,’’ Silus chuckles.

‘‘And.. do you like it here?’’

‘‘Yeah, it’s nice,’’ he tells you nodding. ‘‘Very different from living rurally, of course, and I miss the forest sometimes, but there’s a lot of good things about living in the city.’’

Before you can reply to that, Ayaan is suddenly at your table with a massive grin on his face, startling you both. Silus jerks so badly four of his legs flick out causing Ayaan to snicker loudly.

‘‘You two looked liked you were having fun, so I thought I’d offer table service’’ he says putting another two drinks down on the table. ‘‘Drink up,’’ he says and salutes before strolling back to the bar. You see the gecko behind the bar shaking his head at Ayaan’s antics, catching your eye he gives you an apologetic look before turning to serve another customer.

‘He’s a character,’’ You laughingly say, looking back at Silus.

‘‘That’s one word to describe him,’’ he chuckles jokingly.

You and Silus spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing, as he tells you stories from his childhood and teenage years where he and Rowan would get themselves into trouble. You tell him some of your own stories in return, telling him of the shenanigans that you and your best friend regularly got up to.

The two of you are so absorbed in each other that you don’t realise how late it has gotten until you hear a loud bellow from the otherside of the bar. Glancing around you see that the place is now packed full of boisterous patrons and that you have somehow missed the fact there is now a live band on stage. Over by the pool tables there is a large minotaur and a small goblin having a tussle over a pool cue and a very large orc with a dark scowl, who is obviously security is headed their way. Behind the bar both the gecko and Ayaan are looking harried and have been joined by a harpy and some type of avian.

You and Silus come to a mutual agreement that it’s time to call it a night. As Silus leads the way out of the bar, the other patrons quickly shift out of his way and a few of them stare openly, looking wary. Whilst you enjoy the fact that no one is in your personal space and you have room to move, you also feel sad that people look at him like he might turn around and eat them. You glare fiercely at one particular customer that’s standing staring rudely open mouthed, seeing your scowl they suddenly about-turn and run in the opposite direction.

Outside, you take in a deep breath of fresh air, glad to be out in the quiet. Turning to Silus you see that he’s watching you, a soft smile on his face.

‘‘Is it always like that in there?’’ You ask.

Shaking his head in the negative he replies, ‘‘Not really. It only tends to get that busy at weekends.’’

Nodding, you began speaking only to stop suddenly seeing that another orc, who looks like the double of the one inside, working the door watching you both with a sly grin. Smiling awkwardly, you and Silus start walking in a random direction.

‘‘So... what were you going to say?’’ He asks as he looks down at you.

‘‘Oh,’’ you smile, ‘‘Just that I had a really good time tonight.’’

‘‘So did I,’’ Silus blushes. “Perhaps we could do this again sometime?’’

‘‘Definitely,’’ you grin.

‘‘Would you.. like a ride home?’’

‘‘You drive?’’ You ask incredulously, looking at his spider lower half trying to work out the logistics of that.

‘‘No...’’ he chuckles. “I meant would you like to ride me?’’

Looking at him wide eyed, you suddenly break down snorting in laugher. Confused Silus raises a questioning brow.

‘‘What?’’ He asks completely befuddled.

Trying to calm yourself, you breath in deeply and ask, “Ride you? Talk about innuendo...’’ you grin.

Frowning it takes him a second to register. “Oh! I didn’t mean…’’ he groans. ‘I just meant… um… never mind,’’ he says, shaking his head with cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

‘‘Maybe another time,’’ you smile eyeing his large lower body. ‘I’ll take a taxi tonight.’’ You nod towards the taxi rank across the road.

‘‘Right, well. I guess I have to say goodnight then,’’ he replies, smiling wistfully.

Nodding, you glance between his eyes and mouth, getting the hint he leans down and stops a hair width distance giving you the opportunity to change your mind. You don’t. Closing the distance between you, your eyes close as your lips meet his.

A quick peck leads to another, and then another, before you know it your tongue is in his mouth and you’re carefully exploring his mouth, being mindful with his fangs. One of his hands cradles your head as the other traces patterns on your back. Both your hands start on his shoulders before slowly roaming downwards. As you reach the point where his human torso meets his spider half, you softly stoke him there, feeling his soft hair tickle your hands. Silus suddening pulls away, panting harshly.

‘‘We have to stop,’’ he gasps.

You nod, agreeing and inhaling deeply.

‘‘Text me when you’re home?’’ He asks, searching your face.

Promising him that you would, you wish him goodnight moving quickly and getting in the first taxi. Silus gives a wave as the taxi pulls away and you see him watching you until your no longer in sight. Sitting back in the seat, you touch your fingertips to your lips.

Wow. That was some kiss.

——————————————————————

That’s all folks. If you enjoyed this, please reblog. Comments/likes are always appreciated too. Thanks!

My Masterlist

[dedicatedseeker]

Wedding 2

Continued from Wedding 1

A/N: @greekletters sent me a prompt days ago, and I finally finished it. After a few months of inactivity, I offer this continuation of an old prompt. I hope it was worth the wait and that everyone else who stumbles across this enjoys the ridiculousness. Also on ff and AO3.

That night after Blake let herself in to the apartment she shared with her engaged friend, she immediately proceeded to flop face down on the couch. After a very productive workday, she was exhausted. There was a limit to how much social interaction she could take in a day, although meeting a beautiful woman was certainly a bonus.

Smirking to herself after adjusting her position to face the ceiling, Blake thought back on everything that had happened earlier that day. Weiss Schnee was unlike anyone she had met before, and she was currently amused and intrigued by the other woman. There was a snort from the other side of the room, and Blake didn’t even bother to raise her head to face her roommate, who she suspected was laughing at another pun.

Blake’s view of the ceiling was suddenly blocked by a mane of blonde hair, the amused amethyst eyes of her roommate looking down at her. Frowning now, Blake had the sneaking suspicion that she was the subject of Yang’s amusement and slowly lifted a hand as to not draw the blonde’s attention. While Yang was still distracted, Blake flicked her nose, causing her to yelp and back away. Blake sat up with an impassive look on her face, which only caused Yang’s slight glare to gain intensity.

Stretching, Blake internally debated whether it was too late for a shower before a small chuckle broke through her train of thoughts. She glared at Yang, wondering what was so amusing before deciding not to ask. Yang chose to share her thoughts anyway. “I think today was the most productive day you’ve had at work yet, roomie.”

Blake stared at her roommate with narrowed eyes. Besides the fact that Yang was objectively wrong, she had a hunch that the statement was more of a segue to another point, something that made Blake feel uneasy inside. But why did she feel this way? It was an answer that Blake didn’t want to face, and she quickly stood up, prepared to run to the bathroom before the bulky blonde moved to block her.

Yang’s eyes seemed to bore into hers, searching for an answer Blake wasn’t ready-or didn’t want to give. They stood there facing each other, neither willing to back down until Yang spoke. But the teasing tone that Blake expected wasn’t present, instead replaced by something more sincere. “It was also the most fun I’ve ever seen you have on the job. Not that I’d really know, since I don’t go to work with you. But not even one complaint? Something or someone-“ Blake found that she couldn’t maintain eye contact anymore and swallowed nervously.

There were steady hands on her shoulders now, but Blake still refused to turn back. Yang continued on anyway, that soft voice making the next words burrow themselves in Blake’s mind. “...Must’ve made you distracted enough that I had to be the one to call and ask where you were for once. Hopefully in a good way?”

It took a few moments for Blake to gather her words enough to respond, and when she did, the voice that came out was softer than either of them had expected. “It was...she’s nice. Like you said, we did lose track of time, but that was just for work-“ Blake cut herself off suddenly, amber eyes widening in realization of what she had done before leaving. “I...I gave her my personal number.”

Before Yang could react with more than a gasp, a familiar ringing sound echoed throughout the apartment, and Blake stared at the scroll tossed on the couch earlier like it was cursed. If it was a work related call, then she wouldn’t have hesitated to answer, but the unknown number made her pause. As the ringing continued, she met Yang’s eyes again and found them watching her worriedly.

Blake knew that Yang only wanted what was best for her at the end of the day and smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. Judging by the raised eyebrows and hesitant thumbs up in response, she didn’t think she succeeded. The call ended then, bringing Blake’s attention back to the scroll, feeling a frown form before she could stop it.

“You wanna talk to her?” Yang asked, the question devoid of any teasing. It was only fair that Blake give a sincere response.

“I...I wouldn’t mind...just to talk though!” Blake clarified, rounding on her best friend and pointing a finger pointedly. Yang just raised her hands in a gesture of surrender before nodding.

“Got it. You know I just want what’s best for you, and I...” Yang hesitated before continuing, seeing no point in stopping now. This was worth being honest about. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s cause I’m about to get married, but I feel like you two can really have something special.”

Sighing, Blake just shook her head. She couldn’t-didn’t-want to think about anything more than friendship right now. Not after the last disastrous relationship.

Still, she was taught better than to just ignore someone. It was late though, so mistakes would have to be amended in the morning. Not that she’d admit to purposefully ignoring someone. Blake braced herself for Yang’s reaction to her words. “...I’ll call her in the morning. I’m tired.”

Yang was feeling too victorious to retaliate once Blake shoved her way into the bathroom, immediately locking the door. The barrier between them did nothing to mute the excited energy of her roommate, loud footsteps heading deeper into the apartment. There was no doubt in Blake’s mind that she’d be informing her fiancée of this development, and she could only hope that she wouldn’t regret this, desperately ignoring the excited pounding of her heart as she moved to start her nightly routine.

---

When the first sensation of sunlight settled on her face, Blake immediately grimaced and turned over in her bed, ready to sleep in as she usually did when she didn’t hear an alarm. However, what she did hear was equally as loud. The familiar pulsing sounds of her roommate’s stereo were heard through the walls, and Blake got up, furiously pounding on the wall. They both knew that Yang only blasted her music when she wanted her up.

Sure enough, when Blake finally managed to drag herself out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, Yang was already leaning against the counter, fingers flying over her scroll’s screen. Breakfast had been set out on the table, likely made as a way of apologizing for the earlier noise. Blake could only sigh before she sat, shaking her head in exasperation. The meal was as good as expected, and Blake cleaned the dishes afterwards.

Once she was finished, she turned and faced Yang, who already had a smirk on her face. It was then that Blake noticed that her best friend was dressed to go out, motorcycle key already in hand. Not giving Blake a chance to say anything, Yang ran to the front door. “Have fun chatting with the princess! I’ll be out getting groceries, so you don’t have to worry about leaving today.” Yang was gone before Blake could utter a word.

Blinking at the closed door for a few moments, Blake finally realized how devious the blonde was and sighed. At least she was alone now, but the silence seemed overwhelming. Yang’s presence was always a lot to deal with, but at least she brought life to their bleak apartment. Plus, she really did want the best for Blake, and well...maybe it was time to meet someone new.

Blake certainly wasn’t the most social person, often preferring to stay in when she wasn’t working. She didn’t have many friends because of that before meeting her roommate, but now there was a nice social circle that she was a part of. However, she wasn’t the only one being introduced to people. Somehow, she had convinced Yang to attend the local book club’s opening night, where they both met Pyrrha.

Obviously, that worked out quite well for Yang, and of course it’d be while she was helping to plan their wedding that Blake would meet someone she was interested in...getting to know. If these events were in one of her romance novels, then she’d probably make a quip about how it all came full circle; this was real life though, so she had to actually take action. For a friendly chat, which was Blake’s justification for finally calling the unknown number from last night back and holding her breath as she waited for an answer.

After silently deliberating whether this would be the worst decision she’d ever make, there was shuffling from the other end before a groggy and slightly annoyed voice sharply spoke. “Is there a reason you wish to speak with me at such an unreasonable hour?” Blake stared at her scroll, where the time just changed to eight. She vowed vengeance on her roommate later, complete with creative curses but realized she made a grave error when the voice that definitely belonged to Weiss Schnee snapped at her. “Did you call merely to share your knowledge of swears-“

“No!” A pause. Blake liked to think that they were both caught off guard by the sudden outburst and continued before she could ruin this conversation before it even really started. “I mean, that’s not why I called...”

There was silence on the other end before a huff sounded, Weiss seemingly tired of waiting for more. “Then what was the purpose of this call?” Blake opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Now slightly panicking her lack of planning, she scanned her surroundings for something to say and spotted an opened letter on the kitchen counter.

“To discuss this month’s lease.” As soon as the words were said, Blake seriously contemplated ending the call.

“Miss Belladonna, you called me before noon, not knowing if I had work today, to discuss business?” There was a hint of what suspiciously sounded like disappointment beneath the agitation, but Blake couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Not business...or at least not entirely...?”

“Your uncertainty does not inspire confidence, Miss-“

“Blake. Just Blake, please. And this isn’t a business call. I wanted to ask...” Blake trailed off, multiple questions racing through her mind. Apparently, Weiss came to some sort of realization though, because her voice was more amused than annoyed when she replied.

“Well, that’s quite an interesting proposition to ask for...Blake. Several hours of conversation and you suddenly want me to move in with you? I suppose Yang informed you of my predicament...” As Weiss continued, Blake was too lost in her thoughts to listen. She wasn’t sure whether correcting the woman would be better or worse for this conversation. “...Would that be acceptable?”

“O-of course.”

“Truly? You have no objections to any of my rules?” Wait what? Well, might as roll with it.

“...You would be willing to move in with someone who you’ve only spoken to once before? Now who’s jumping into things?” Blake asked, making her way to the living room couch and relaxing. This wasn’t going at all how she expected, but she didn’t mind. Besides, goading Weiss was fun. The scoff she gave at the question made her smirk and gave her a bit more confidence to continue. “Besides, you called me first. I guess this is what you wanted all along.”

“Are you always so aggravating?”

“Only on days ending in y.”

“So every day. Wonderful...” Weiss sighed, her amusement slightly lessened now. But Blake knew she hadn’t managed to truly make her mad when she continued. “Why don’t we discuss details in person, if you’re sure?”

“Sounds good. We can grab tea-“

“Coffee.”

Blake paused then shook her head, resigning herself to a future living with another coffee lover. “Compromise. Water.” The laugh on the other end made her smile.

“The optimal location to meet would be somewhere that serves both then. I shall send you the address later.”

Blake hummed her agreement, not particularly caring one way or the other. Plus, she was curious about what places a woman like Weiss Schnee would frequent. “It’s a date.” Silence as the words sunk in.

Blake was about to hastily end the call, resigning herself to never leaving the apartment again before hearing a response. She could practically hear the smirk in Weiss’ voice. “...Very well. I hope you know what you’re getting into, Blake. I will see you in a few hours.”

No, she very well didn’t know what she was getting into, but she certainly wanted to try. Blake stared at the ceiling for a ceiling for a few moments, trying to process what exactly happened just now before hurriedly getting up. She felt the typical jitters before a first date, nervousness and excitement warring within her as she headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Maybe it was worth it to wake up early after all.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

(Note, if this post shows up twice or massively delayed or just looks weird, it’s because it was flagged for adult content [??!] because I had a picture of Willem Dafoe’s face in a gif. I am not even kidding. Do with that information what you will. I’ve removed it and I still don’t know if/when this can be publicly viewed, I’m kind of lolling. So if you see a blocked out photo that looks like porn in your post, I swear it’s just a gif from The Lighthouse!)

Hello, amazing people. This weekend, I’m putting the final touches on my last draft of Baghdad Waltz Chapter 39, which will then go to the beta for one more round of edits. I imagine I will have the chapter posted in 1-3 weeks, which is close to record speed for me, especially since it’s around 30k words. I’m going to be talking about my writing process (at unfortunate length) for one of the asks, for those who are interested. 

Please forgive me. I’m feeling quite verbose and a little squirrely. I blame living alone during lockdown. 

It’s also Memorial Day weekend in the States, which is when we are meant to honor those who gave their lives in military service to this country. This is often confused with Veterans Day (November 11), which is honoring anyone who has served in the military and is no longer serving. This gets further confused with Armed Forces Day (rotating date, May) which is to honor those currently serving in the military. I know, super confusing. 

There’s a wide range of opinions on how Memorial Day should be commemorated, which often involves gathering with friends and family for a barbecue or some other social activity. It’s the first major holiday after a huge holiday drought throughout the late winter and spring, which often makes people look forward to it immensely. Some people feel it’s inappropriate to celebrate Memorial Day with barbecues and fond social gatherings because it’s dishonoring the memories of those who can’t be here, people don’t take time to remember those who have died, people have no idea what the day is actually for, etc. Others, even some very vocal veterans, maintain that people died so that we could be here to celebrate in freedom, so why not relish this life we have? Many offer the caveat that it’s appropriate to at least acknowledge the purpose of the day, even if it’s just in a few minutes of quiet reflection. 

Anyway, I offer this as a little food for thought for this upcoming long weekend. 

(And in case you missed it, I posted a BW Timeline for your reference.) 

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

I’m so glad that you are enjoying the read and that you’re finding it inspiring for your own work. I think my dedication to research for BW is threefold. 1) As this story evolved, I decided that I wanted to create the most realistic depictions of military, civilian, emotional, and physical life that I reasonably could. I will fully admit to lapses in this, deliberate and unintentional, because sometimes the plot just needs to go and I can’t wait around for a year-long medical discharge process for my character. 2) I’m in an academically stringent occupation, and because research is such a prominent part of my work life, it’s bled to my hobby. (IS THIS EVEN A HOBBY ANYMORE?) And 3) I get very easily and passionately obsessed with things and delight in getting “into the weeds” with a subject. Almost every research divergence usually takes me off track for at least an hour. And you will never catch me without an MTA subway map open in at least one tab.

But that wasn’t even your question! Sorry. Are you beginning to get a sense of why BW takes me so long to write?? I cannot keep my shit on track. As for the bibliography, YES! I plan to include that in my author’s note at the end. I wish I had kept better track of all of my works consulted over the past three years, but I will definitely discuss the importance of some of the main ones. I’m so thrilled that you are interested, and I’m excited to share them!

Thank you. This is such a kind thing to say, and I’m humbled and delighted to hear it, especially because our fandom is so blessed with some AMAZING fics. And asks certainly don’t have to be questions! I appreciate them all (except the flaming bag of dog shit ones, which I haven’t had in a while, hooray).

(Re: Chapter 37) Good question! I imagine Claire would want to keep the 1:1 conversation somewhat limited, as she is treating the couple as a patient rather than them as individuals. If anything, she might have somewhat superficially checked in to see if he was okay rather than dive into anything regarding the relationship with Bucky not around. That could be seen as a betrayal of trust to Bucky and could be interpreted as favoritism, which Steve craves and which Bucky is probably terrified about.

I am always pleased when people re-read and enjoy it or get new things out of it, even if it’s sometimes a re-read is a function of my slow-ass writing. I really want a story with good re-read value.

You make an excellent point about Bucky’s relationships. His friendship with Jack also had no real closure. Sometimes this is a factor of circumstance and sometimes it’s because of his avoidance, like a self-fulfilling prophesy almost. He’s learned that people betray you, either by hurting you or dying, so he creates conditions sometimes (often unwittingly) for things to go sour and end poorly, or he will simply make himself disappear so that he’s not hurt and doesn’t have to wait to see if he will be abandoned or betrayed. He’s not a guy who is good with goodbyes.

As for Thor, I totally see how it would read that way. I think Thor started out fishing for longer-term possibilities in a romantic relationship but then realized Bucky is really not a guy who is comfortable settling (which, as we can see, is true). As for why it seems more serious, one thing is that Thor still wanted Bucky in his life as a friend, possibly one with benefits. They have a lot in common, and it’s hard for veterans - and, more specifically, special operators - to find people in their lives they can relate to with these very intense life experiences. I wanted this to be a real relationship, but maybe not necessarily one that was bound to become a RELATIONSHIP. I think Bucky was very intriguing and attractive to him, and he very well may have struggled with his own vacillation between whether to take it seriously or whether to remain friends+. This can lead to mixed messages.

And we also have to remember Bucky’s notoriously unreliable narration, where he will see what he wants to see. Our perspective comes from him. We see the details he zooms in on, miss the one he ignores, view the relationship through the lens of his own contentious desire for a real relationship, even as he consistently demonstrates the lack of capacity and his fear about getting serious. I imagine Bucky has having an extremely poor ability to distinguish friendship from romance, and why wouldn’t he, given the most recent bit of history we have learned about him with Jack? He’s had a series of friendships become sexualized, and I think this affects his capacity to be discerning. Bucky’s radar for relating, whether friendships, romance, or potentially dangerous sexual situations, is terribly mis-calibrated. How confusing for him and for the people in his life. Of course, everyone is free to interpret the dynamics of any relationship however they choose. These are just some of my thoughts.

I really appreciate observations from the re-read! Thank you!

I watched the video and you are right! This is definitely a Bucky song. Bucky’s sense of self is by turns profoundly distorted and lacking in grounding, especially now that he’s not in the military. He’s been in a low key existential crisis since he was a kid and has turned to drinking and sex and war to fill this horrible void, and although I can’t speak for what the artists here intended, I certainly sensed those elements here for sure. (Also, what an interesting choice for a music video…)

Thank you for sharing! I’ll add it to the unofficial BW playlist in the author’s note, which consists of various songs people have associated with BW and shared with me.

Good question! I started off this story picturing the actors who represent the characters in the MCU, because I figured we’d be picturing that when we read the fic anyway (though my beta told me she doesn’t see them as the actors, more like artists’ renderings of the characters, which I find interesting). So when describing their physicality, I tend to refer back to the MCU, since this is technically an MCU AU. But the longer I go with the story, the murkier the resemblance feels to me, especially when I think about Bucky, IDK why. I have also been considering doing something more with BW after I finish it (i.e., converting it into a proper not-bajillion-word novel, sunk cost and whatnot), in which case I would definitely change the characters’ appearance, names, cut MCU Easter eggs, etc. So when I try to think of who these people might be in future iterations of the story, things get even more blurred in my mind when I imagine them.

I wonder how other people see them??

So, with regards to PTSD clinical teams, there is some variation across VAs in the system. Some focus more on military-related trauma, whether it’s war, military sexual trauma, accidents, etc. as a way of concentrating their services and managing supply and demand. From talking with providers in these kinds of systems, sometimes you just NEED a military-related trauma, but you can be treated for, say, a childhood trauma if it’s more pressing. Other VAs are very open in their criteria, and you can see them for pretty much any kind of trauma that qualifies diagnostically for PTSD (or sub-threshold PTSD) without question. That’s why I love the expression “If you’ve been to one VA, you’ve been to one VA.” That said, it kind of doesn’t matter what kind of PTSD clinical team is at the VA in Manhattan, because Bucky has so much military trauma that he would very likely qualify to receive services in any PTSD clinical team. They just might focus on childhood stuff (if Bucky actually let them, which is another matter entirely).

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

I love a snarky asshole Bucky so much, and I’ve tried to temper this version of him with enough hard-earned genuineness to offset it a little bit. It’s such a tender balance with him, because if you back him too far into a corner, he’s going to let you have it. But if you give him too much space, it’s hard to pin him down and wring something honest from him. He’s definitely learned to use humor and sarcasm to deflect from painful or uncomfortable situations, and it’s a very adaptive short-term strategy that makes him both endearing and infuriating to others.

But ugh, yeah, shit gets so rough around Chapter 28/29. I don’t know how to feel when people have really strong emotional reactions to this story, because one part of me doesn’t want to contribute to the crappy feelings people may already be struggling with — especially in the times of COVID — but I don’t want to be afraid to dive into the hurt these characters are experiencing. That’s why I recommend checking in with oneself before reading to get a sense of how much emotional bandwidth is available to manage the immense problems of two people struggling so much. I also think that for some people it can be cathartic or otherwise not-bad maybe (?), based on the feedback I’ve received. I also really try hard to balance out the painful stuff with growth, even though it can be terribly difficult to locate sometimes.

In comments to folks, and here, I often talk about adjusting the ticks on your measuring stick for progress, where instead of leaps of progress over feet/meters, we may be observing things on an inch/mm scale. This story is my most sincere effort at a “recovery is not linear” narrative, which I think is so much more reflective of real life for a lot of folks than a straight upward trajectory. Humans are such creatures of habit, and the lessons these characters have learned through their lives about themselves, trust, relationships, and how to manage emotions are very deeply ingrained — often through traumatic means. These are the lessons learned the hardest, with the greatest perceived consequences for change, and it takes real courage for us to be able to try new things even once, let alone to establish a reliable pattern of behavior. This can lead to a lot of frustration for us as readers/writer, and I come from a place of this being okay, because we are encountering a parallel process with the characters, who are frustrated with each other and themselves about the same things. I do hope the pain/progress/joy ratios are not horribly out of whack most of the time. That’s another reason I like long chapters, because if this was just blips of sometimes terrible episodes in shorter form, I think it would be very challenging to not lose hope entirely.

But I’m so glad you’re finding the read meaningful, even if it’s sometimes painful and difficult.

(YES.)

And FINALLY -- (this is all soooo long, I’m so sorry.)

Oh, thank you for this question! My spreadsheet ended up getting too difficult to manage, and I actually had a small crisis six months ago about how the fic was going to end, because it just didn’t feel right. I had to scrap it and go back to the drawing board and really ask myself - what would these characters really do? Naturally, as a factor of their psychologies and circumstances, how will they bring this story to an end? Some advice I once heard about a “satisfying” ending is that it’s the place where there’s simply nothing more to say about the characters. There’s no more story to tell. I had to abandon all of my desires  and ideas for a particular ending or concerns about making people sad or happy or excited or disappointed. I know that the only ending that will be satisfying is one that makes sense for these people. Anything contrived or backward-engineer-y wouldn’t feel right to anyone. I do have a couple of specific character arc things I want to happen, so I set those down as touchstones and said, okay, what would happen next? What would Steve do with this? And what would Bucky do with this? And what would they do with the thing the other person did? I take a very psychology and prior-behavior-based approach to plotting, almost all character driven. The rest is just figuring out what is supposed to go where and how to organize it.

I’ve converted everything to a Google Doc and have a very basic outline where I write plotty-plot stuff. I also have a “garbage dump” doc where I write certain lines I want to use or certain details I want to include somewhere. When I get into a new chapter, I’ll check the dump doc as I outline and write to see if I want to pluck anything from there. I have my outline open regularly to add to it. Sometimes I write scenes out of order, dialogue first, but that’s only if I really am excited about a particular scene and cannot contain myself. Otherwise, I write completely chronologically and have no buffer. I post things as soon as I write them.

As for your specific questions, I do have a “process” for getting into my characters’ heads. It helps to know them so very well and to have a firm sense of their idiosyncrasies and patterns of behavior. As you may have noticed, they repeat their patterns all. the. time, as humans do, but I also want to have them change their behaviors a little as things go and they progress. So I may wonder what they could do a little differently, why they would WANT to behave differently, and imagine what they would need to do to change their behavior. Do they need to take breaths? Do they remember the last time some shit went down? I really try to think of the “how” and “why” of every single action - from big blowouts to eye rolls.

So once I’ve figured out what they are going to do, I try to pinpoint the associated emotions I want to highlight. This is a whole separate process, because I have to think also about their internal versus their external emotional states. Steve, for example, will often have a discrepant inside and outside, because one of the truths about his character is that he is a chronic suppressor. There is also the issue of unreliable narration and interpretation of behavior. Steve might do something in a scene, but that doesn’t mean Bucky is going to interpret it the way it was intended. I have to think about their individual filters, which often reflect their internal beliefs about themselves. Bucky is more likely to read Steve’s actions as reflections of how BUCKY feels about HIMSELF (e.g., he’s disgusted by me because I’m disgusting) rather than imagine what Steve is really thinking based on his own experiences and beliefs about Bucky. I also attempt to convey some of the more second and third layer emotions that people have in situations, rather than only highlighting the primary emotion. Sad things don’t always just make people sad. Powerful emotions, for example, might make Steve feel out of control of himself, which could generate secondary emotions for him like frustration because he’s losing control. Part of the process in the construction of the narrative is also scrubbing what I’ve written for POV, because Bucky’s word choices aren’t the same as Steve’s, and in order to try to preserve the “voice” of each character, I often have to change the words I’ve opted to use, as well as the syntax.

So, as you can see, there’s a lot of layering that is happening all the time. As for the dialogue, I have no compunction about saying the lines aloud, “acting” them to see how they sound, to get a sense of what tone I want them to say things in. Now that I think of it, I do a bit of movement-based stuff, thinking about how people sit and stand, figuring how many steps it takes to get from A-Z, what it would look like to lean against something, how it would feel on the body, etc. I try to get the most felt sense of things as I can. If I’m imagining a scene, I try to put myself in the shoes of the characters to the point where I feel the emotions, just so I can know how it reflects in my body and my mind and behavior. I have more than once gotten drunk and drunk-written drunk Bucky then gone to clean it up later, as drunk writing can generate some great content I never would have been able to come up with sober, but the form, grammar, spelling, etc. is often rubbish. I also talk a LOT to my beta about all of this stuff, and I have certain friends and acquaintances in the fandom who are my consultants for various things.

So, I’m somewhat method I guess?? Is that a thing?? I dunno. It’s not hard to do when you live and breathe a story. It’s required a deep level of interest in - quite possibly an obsession with - the characters and their lives. I adore my characters, not in a self-congratulatory way, but because they feel so real to me. So it’s a joy to plan and write -- though I do hate first drafts with a passion.

OH - I also sometimes fast-draft chapters, which I did for 39. That is, write as FAST AS YOU CAN with no regard for how shitty the writing is. I wrote 10k words in a week, which was a finished fast-draft for me, and thus I had a very good felt sense of what was going to happen in the chapter, which felt amazing. It requires intensive outlining before, and nearly every word had to be rewritten, but one of the greatest frustrations of a story for me is having blank space ahead. Re-writing is way more fun than first draft writing. I have fluffed it up twofold with higher quality content, which I did all in less than two months…!! 

-------------------------

Well, this is surely my most unnecessarily yammering YAIT in history. But I hope it at least conveys my enthusiasm for these wonderful asks! It’s so lovely to hear from all of you, even if I take an eon to get back to you. Hang in there, everyone!

@grimshady @hutchhitched​ @b0n3l3ssm1lk​ 

(And thank you to @bae-buckyaboveeverything​ for the shout out. You made my day<3)

[doctorgerth]

Hey Coop! I really want to see how this whole imagines thing plays out. My oc was Dr. Dennis and I wanted for her matchup to be with her runner up suitor Mihawk (You know I love that man) and frankly I don’t have an idea on what I want to be so I’ll leave it up to you!

Hey, Tea!! I’m glad I could write this for you. A lillll bit angsty but very happy ending. Also kinda long for some reason?? So I’m gonna put it under the cut. Hope you like it and thanks for the request! 

“I just want everyone to leave me alone!” 

Aaliyah cried out, a deafening silence falling upon her colleagues as they stared at each other in fear and concern. It was one thing after the other, and today was just not the day to bother her. Once everyone realized that, after a few moments of awkward silence, everyone returned to their stations, finding any possible task to occupy themselves with. Anything to steer clear of Dr. Dennis’ path.

She wasn’t usually one to wear her emotions out on her sleeve since she’s always held herself to really high standards, therefore much preferring to maintain an earnest demeanor when at work. For her sake of course, but more so for the sake of her colleagues and patients. She took her career very seriously and she knew it was an emotionally demanding job, so she always tried her hardest to keep face until she returned to the safety of her home. Lately, however, she’d recently found safety in another home - in the arms of a man she had fallen head over heels for. Their meeting was pure fate in the making, and she had never believed in love at first sight until meeting eyes with the legendary swordsman himself, Dracule Mihawk. 

The attraction was beyond their titles, of course. He listened to her, actually listened to her, and was interested in hearing all about her. Her life had been rather lonely before. Sure, she was a Grade A flirt and one night stands filled the emptiness of her bed every now and then, but no man had ever looked at her like that. Like he could see the real her. It was truly sobering and a bit frightening, but she felt utterly adored in his eyes.

Aaliyah wasn’t one to get so worked up over a man, considering she’d always held her own pretty well before. But after their encounter, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Near to the point of insanity. Thankfully, he seemed to be just as crazy for her as he was eager to ask her out on a date. She’d heard how elusive he was, she picked up on his aloof personality easily. So having such a man so eager to see her again, well, it made her feel special. And she appreciated the way he made her feel. That was until recently when he’d begun to lose contact with her. His temporary visit on her island was soon interrupted as he hurried back home to his castle on Kuraigana Island for unknown reasons. Their whirlwind romance came to a screeching halt and he left with hardly so much as a goodbye to her. Instead, leaving a pitiful letter on her doorstep in his wake. Three words: Wait for me.

“Tsk, who does he think he is?” Aaliyah scoffed as she read over the letter for the tenth time this morning. She studied the elegant penmanship, imagining the feathered pen in his hand as his wrist danced along the paper to write that haunting phrase so beautifully. It was never just the hand though. Her traitorous mind always imagined traveling up those long, strong arms, the arms that have held her tightly time and time again, up the soft fabric of that infamous white shirt of his, the shirt that continuously became an embellishment on her floor, those sweet , supple lips that loved to mark her skin, all the way up to those piercing eyes, the eyes that always stared right into her. Those damn eyes. That’s when she’d shove the now crumpled to nearly ripping when touched note back into her desk and sit with her head in her hands. 

Wait for him? How selfish to be asked such a thing. How long did he think he could keep her on his little string? She should’ve seen it coming from a mile away. Despite her current wretched state, Aaliyah would be damned if she let a man like him wreck her. A sudden ring on her den den mushi brought her out of her thoughts. She wiped at her cheeks in disgust while clearing her throat before answering the call. 

“Dr. Dennis, someone is asking for you at the front desk.” 

“Tell them to come back later.” 

“But it-” 

Aaliyah hung up the phone without a second thought, ignoring the three calls that followed after. Her head was throbbing from swallowing her tears and the image of Mihawk holding her so gently in his arms was seared into her brain, haunting her every thought no matter how hard she tried to suppress her feelings. Damn him. If she were to ever see him again, she’d surely give him a piece of her mind. She groaned loudly as a persistent knock suddenly echoed in her room, causing the throbbing of her head to increase tenfold. She attempted to ignore it, but when it was clear the person wasn’t going away, Aaliyah stormed towards the door and yanked it open. 

“Maria, I swear to the heavens, if you do not leave me alone, I will-”

“Ahem.” 

Aaliyah’s eyes averted from the trembling assistant up towards the tall, dark-haired man that stood behind her. A little droplet of sweat beaded on his forehead at watching her lose her shit for a moment, but his features immediately softened when he saw the tears pool in her eyes.

“Mihawk?” 

Thankfully the assistant took that as her cue to go, so she scurried down the hallway out of sight. In her absence, the bouquet of flowers that Mihawk was holding was now present. He extended his arm out nonchalantly towards her, “For waiting.” 

“You idiot!” Overwhelmed by emotion, she yanked the swordsman into her office for a passionate kiss. He could hardly be surprised by her actions as he was just as eager to claim her lips again. His lips were just as soft as she remembered, full of intense desire as they easily met her pace and then some. After what felt like hours of emotional out pour, he pulled away to catch his breath and rested his forehead against hers, “I’m so sorry, my love. I had no ill intent, I promise. I had to make a few preparations...”

Her lips caressed him fervently, scared that if she pulled away he would disappear again, “For what?” 

He followed the trail of her lips hazily, embracing her just as intimately, and accepting her affections, “Move in with me?” 

Her lips finally paused against his skin, her mind racing and questioning if this were all just a dream. He couldn’t help but chuckle at watching her pinch herself. “If not now, I understand. It can be a vacation home for you. Anytime you need to get away. I just don’t want to lose you-”

She hushed him with final kiss. A confirmation. Tears cascaded down her cheeks while she held his face between her hands and sobbed freely. His thumbs rubbed away the droplets, anxiously awaiting her answer.

“Only if you make it up to me. Being without you was...” She trailed off as the memories of her pain and questioning flooded back. Her hands gripped at his face for dear life, as if she were holding him in place. As if he’d crumble like ash and disappear into the wind. 

Like magic, a tender kiss along her forehead halted all anxious thoughts. He held her close to him, confident as ever, despite mentally cursing himself for abandoning her, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me. I love you, Aaliyah. And I'll claim my own life before I ever hurt you like that again.” 

Outside the door, nosey colleagues silently cheered as they were elated to know that their favorite doctor had found happiness again.