#(day 2 and final which is the real problem here. hate snap decisions)

[televinita]

oh noooo not an estate sale showing me six beautiful blonde oak lookin’ bookshelves to match my childhood and favorite one, i want all of them to be in my house, or at least the ones with thick and sturdy shelves (some of those look Thin and Weak).

But while that is not feasible I am very much looking at the short one in the first pic there, because it looks like it has about the same amount of shelf space as the one next to it, just with less wasted room above the books. What if... maybe...

[edit: apparently the bookshelves were not for sale. maybe that was for the best, because they were as good as they looked. I would like to note that they were all criminally crammed into a room the size of a walk-in closet, with approximately 15 square feet of floor space in the middle. In a sprawling 3-story 1900s house.]

[bigwhispersbluebird]

Look into my eyes, and lie: 2

Author’s Note: Apologies for the delay but here is the second part. It is written more from Taehyung’s pov.

Angst

Warnings: Mentions of cheating 

Read part 1, here

Our lives eventually fell into our normal routine and when public appearances became common, the scandal which had taken over every channel finally died down.

Although seemingly everything was fine, there was a glass wall between us which was never there before. When together alone, questions would form in the back of our throats but never make it past our lips but the death of all those questions lingered like a ghost.

Taehyung was the most disturbed by this. He would often watch you when you were not noticing. His eyes would linger on every nose scrunch, every stress line, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He often anticipated for you to finally snap and ask him what that woman was doing in his arms that night, why had he decided to go to a bar alone. But you never did. And he didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. But he knew one thing for sure, he had not been completely honest and the truth hanged like a sword over your heads; when it would fall, it would pierce through both of your souls.

*****

Taehyung stopped Kai from getting up from his seat with a gesture of his hand, as he made his way to your office room. Last time that he had walked through these halls, his heart was barely beating, knowing that his truth would break yours. He had wanted to tell you the truth and get what he deserved. But you had given him a way out, and he had taken out; realizing that it might be the only way to hold onto you a little longer. 

But he had never felt more far away from you.

Now, he walked the same halls with a plan in his mind. He had to come clean to you, he knew that. But before everything would shatter for good, he wanted to give you one day like before; one day where he was completely yours and you were his and a wrong decision was not in the way of it. He wanted to grab you from your office, take you on a cliché date, hold your hand until it felt like his own limb and kiss you until he could taste you on him for the rest of his life- because after this day, nothing would be the same again. 

But all his plans came crashing down when he opened the door to your office and saw the familiar faces of his elder hyungs there. Yoongi sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands frozen in the air because of the door opening suddenly while Namjoon stood beside you, his hand on your shoulder as if calming you down. 

What were they doing here? Taehyung would have asked but the look on your face told him that he did not want to know. 

You looked like you had just seen a ghost, your skin visibly pale and eyes void-so contrasting from how they would always shine. You were now looking at him straight in the eyes and he felt guilty, his mind begging him to break the eye contact because it hurt but his heart too scared to look away. 

“Taehyung, I think you should not be here right now”, Namjoon said, carefully, trying to find the right words for this situation but you were quick to speak, “No, he should be here. He should know what is happening”. 

“Y/N...”, he managed to croak out, still scared and confused as to what was happening but he had an idea that it was related to that night. 

“It is Ms. Y/L/N to you, Mr Kim Taehyung”, you interrupted, your voice now tweaked perfectly to show no emotion, your tone authoritative and formal- like he had heard you use with your clients several times. Caught off guard, Taehyung forgot what he was even going to say next, giving you a window to talk again. 

“We are here to discuss how the to deal with this situation”, you said, turning the laptop screen towards him and pressing play. The video on the screen was taken from the CCTV in the elevator and showed two people pressed into each other, kissing and shedding clothing. As the video progressed, Taehyung’s colour drained from his face and he could bet that if anyone heard closely, they would feel his heart shatter. You were still watching him carefully, your eyes boring into him as if daring him to look at her and justify it all but he couldn’t. 

Yoongi who had shrank back since Taehyung had walked in could not watch this happen any longer. He moved forwards and slammed the laptop shut, stopping the video in process, “You both need to talk”, he said as he moved to get up but you stopped him. 

“No, Yoongi. This is not between us. ‘Us’“, you scoffed, “there is not even an us now, I don’t think there was one to begin with”.

“Don’t say that”, Taehyung could only say silently. His eyes were still fixated on the laptop and he wished he could turn back time and change the decisions he made. 

Ignoring him completely, you continued, “So, now, I will pay her and the staff to not distribute this video, making sure that all copies are deleted and the involved parties sign an agreement never to bring this up again. Even if they ever do, it will be another false rumour without any proof. The end of the year shows are coming up so showing up to them with y’all will be enough for the media to know that everything is fine. After that, I will leave with TXT for their tour and it will later be announced that due to distance and schedules, Mr Taehyung and I broke up”, you had kept talking like it was just another problem of a client you had, like it was a presentation you had spent days on- not like it was the end of a relationship you had thought was your last. 

“Y/N, don’t”, Taehyung tried speaking again. This time, his eyes were on yours, trying to search for one emotion even if it was anger. He could take you crying and screaming at him but this was nothing like what he had expected. 

“Y/N, you should talk to him”, Namjoon suggested, “At least for the sake of closure”. 

“Closure? What more do I need when the woman he slept with had the audacity to walk up to me and tell me that my boyfriend, who by the way looked into my eyes and lied about it, had slept with her, IN OUR ROOM, IN OUR BED!”, your voice was now loud and boomed against the tall walls of the room. 

“I did not sleep with her”, Taehyung spoke, knowing that he had to offer some clarity. 

“Lie to me again and I will forget that I ever loved you”, you challenged now closing the distance between you two and Taehyung would have stepped back had he not been so fixated on your use of the past tense. He needed to speak now, the whole truth.

“I went to club that night because I had been jealous of how much time you were spending with Jungkook. I know it was stupid and that is why I could not say anything to you but I was too drunk and you know that I don’t drink often and she was there”, he saw you squirm; your body finally showing some difference. Shock, confusion, hurt and betrayal- all emotions passed through your face till disbelief settled. He continued, “It is the truth, once we were inside the apartment. I realized that I could not do it and I asked her to leave. I swear that I did not cheat on you”, he was now on his knees. His hands holding yours and his eyes begging you. 

Namjoon and Yoongi took this as their cue to slip through the door, both scared of what was unfolding in front of them. 

It took you a minute to grasp everything that had come up out of Taehyung’s mouth but once you comprehended it, you were quick to pull your hands from his grasp. 

“And just because you did not put your dick in her, it is not cheating? Am I supposed to apologize for being mistaken and forgive you?”

“No...”

“You think this is easy for me don’t you”, your voice now broke as if tired of keeping its composure. “Is it easy for me to look at you everyday knowing that you are hiding something? Is it easy to silence you with a kiss every time you try to talk about that night because I am scared? Is it easy to have her walk into my room and tell me that you lied?”

Tears now fell down your face mimicking Taehyung’s, you both looked defeated. You fell on the couch, letting it hold you because the only person who had held you up had brought you down the worst. 

“You know what the worst part is? I wanted to forgive you. My first instinct was to forgive you just to keep you and I hate that. I hate it that I questioned my own beliefs for you. I don’t deserve that”, your voice was now low but Taehyung felt each word weigh a ton on him. He wished he could say something, something that would make it better but there was nothing to say or do. This was the end. You had said that you didn’t deserve it and he could swear on everything real and true that you did not. 

After several minutes, Taehyung felt you move and come close to him, he closed his eyes and let the tears fall again, all the while trying to remember everything about you. Your scent as you closed the distance between you two, your arms as they tightened around his neck and the way your head fit in the crook of his neck. 

“I wish you had not done it. That you had talked to me about it. That you had driven to my house instead of the bar and that you had not...”, your voice broke and he felt your tears fall on his shoulders. 

“But I will forgive you. Not today, not tomorrow, not anytime soon. But one day when I am capable of it, I will forgive you but for that, I need to walk away from you. And from what has become of us”.

Taehyung tightened his grip on you knowing that he had done this and there was no other way this could have gone. He held on to you, knowing that every part of him would hate him for breaking the one thing he had held most precious. And when you broke free, he dropped his arms and let you move away, knowing well that he had no right to stop you.

You left the room and left him there and it took hours for him to get up and leave, his eyes on the framed picture of you two on your desk, your love still intact in memories. 

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader  chapter two: san juan

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.6K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: okay, ya’ll. I really never intended to make this story anything more than a one-shot...but a couple of people asked for more and then the wheels started turning, and I had more than a little crush on this sexy, smartassed jungkook. so here we are! I hope you guys like it.

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

************************

You still think about Jungkook Jeon.

You think about him when you spot his beautiful face on the poster in the hallway at your office, with the word WANTED emblazoned across the top.

You think about him every time you fly because you leave condoms behind in the bathroom like some kind of kinky Fairy Godmother.

And sometimes -- late at night, after you’ve had a glass of wine -- you shut your eyes and think about him when you slip between the sheets and then slip a hand into your panties.

You wonder where in the world he is and how he’s getting away with life on the run -- again.

Though technically he’s not your problem anymore.

The Marshals took over his case after he pulled his vanishing act in Los Angeles, so it’s some other poor sap’s job to find him and bring him in.  You’d done your part -- you’d tracked him down and brought him to the States, even got him before a judge.  

So what happened after that didn’t happen on your watch.

Totally out of your hands.

No reason for you to still obsess over how it all went down.

At all.

Right?

************************

The humidity in San Juan hits you like a wall the second you step out of Muñoz Marín International Airport.

You quickly scan the throng of waiting drivers and find the one holding the sign with your name on it.  The suit you’d worn on the plane is already sticking to the backs of your thighs in this heat.

“Welcome to Puerto Rico,” the driver smiles warmly, offering to take your luggage off your hands. You smile back as you follow him to the line of cars idling outside.

The ding of a text alert distracts you for a moment.  

You pull out your phone and see it’s your boss, checking to make sure your flight landed on time.  The driver opens the car door and you slip inside while he pops the trunk to put your bags away.  

You’re so busy tapping out a response that you don’t realize something is off until the driver raps twice on the back of the car.

Because that’s a signal for the car to go.

Because the man behind the wheel is not the man who just loaded you and your bags into this car.

Because the man behind the wheel is --

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you breathe, eyes wide on the reflection in the rearview mirror.

He’s got a snapback pulled low over his face but you can still see his eyes. And you’d know those eyes anywhere. You’ve thought about those eyes a lot more than you’d like to admit.

“That -- “ Jungkook says, pressing the gas, “-- is the weirdest way to say you missed me, too.”

He tilts his head up so you can catch the reflection of his wide smile.

You are in a car with Jungkook Jeon. In a moving car with Jungkook Jeon.  

“Start talking,” you snap.  

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

You slump back into the seat and clap a hand over your face. Damn this man and damn his stupid, smart-assed, beautiful mouth.

“Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook snorts at the note of panic in your voice.  

“To your hotel, dummy.  You have a meeting in like, two hours.”

“Unbelievable,” you sigh after a moment. “Do I even want to know how you know all of this?”

“Well in my defense,” he starts, “you guys still have really shitty firewalls.  You’ve got a lot of nerve calling yourselves an intelligence agency with that set-up in place.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your feedback,” you mutter.

“You should. So anyway, I was reading through your emails one day -- you know, as I do -- and I saw you were coming to town. I couldn’t pass up the chance to see you.”

Holy shit.

That’s a lot to take in right now and you’re still trying to process the series of events that led up to you, in a car with Jungkook Jeon.  You keep asking questions because it seems like the only sane thing to do in this entirely insane situation.

“You read my emails.”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Uh….all the time?”

You blow out an exasperated breath.  

“You’re a real piece of work. Just what makes you think I won’t have this car surrounded by Feds by the time we get to the hotel?”

“You could,” he concedes thoughtfully. He looks up from the road for a moment to lock eyes with you in the rearview. “But we both know you won’t.”

His certainty makes you bristle.  Is he right about that?

You force yourself to look away from him and redirect your gaze outside to watch the carefully landscaped palm trees speed by.  He’s been here for some time, you think, as he navigates the streets with ease.  He doesn’t seem to be looking for his next turn or second-guessing which way to go. He’s not even using GPS.

“You are in some deep shit back home, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finally. “You embarrassed them. They hate being embarrassed.”

He chuckles.

“Don’t you think it’s time to drop the formalities, Agent? I’ve had my tongue in your pussy, you know.”

He startles a laugh from you with his casual, crass statement of fact.  You forgot how funny he is -- how smart and affable and completely disarming he is.

“Anyway, that’s their problem, not mine,” he continues. “And not yours anymore either, from what I understand.”

Boy, he really wasn’t kidding about those emails.

You mentally rummage through your inbox, try to imagine what information he’s had access to these past few months.  Countless agency messages, a few personal ones and at least one exchange that could qualify as both. You wonder if he’s seen that one, too.  

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the thought.

“So what’s your plan, then? Hide out in plain sight in a territory of the United States?”

“It’s worked for me so far, hasn’t it?”

You roll your eyes.

“Anyway, my plan right now is to drop you off at this hotel,” Jungkook says, turning into the drive. “Then you’re going to skip that reception they have scheduled for tomorrow night because you’re going to have drinks with me instead.”

You say nothing for a moment.

It’s absurd that your first reaction to his words is a tingle of excitement. It’s ludicrous that you haven’t picked up the phone to call this in by this point. It’s fucking bananas that you’re picturing yourself sharing a drink with this man instead of having him arrested.

The car rolls to a stop.

“Now, as much as I’d love to act the part of a perfect gentleman and help you with those bags, I can’t,” Jungkook says, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a small piece of paper. “Your hotel is crawling with cameras and believe it or not, I’m trying to minimize the number of stupid risks I take these days.”

You snort.

He reaches behind his seat to hand you the note.

“Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 7 o’clock. Be sure to wear something tight, yeah?”

“You are out of your mind,” you say from between clenched teeth, snatching the paper out of his hand.

Jungkook laughs.

“I know, right?”

***********************************

You should call the Marshals.

You should really call the Marshals.

Why haven’t you called the goddamned Marshals?

“ -- do you think, Agent?”

Fuck.  

You can’t seem to keep your mind focused on this meeting and now everyone around the conference table is looking at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that,” you’re forced to admit. “Catch me up?”

“I was saying,” Agent Dominguez starts again, “that given the damage done to the office here in San Juan, we should move agents to the mainland temporarily.  Miami, preferably.”

“Yes,” you agree. “That would be best.  Until we can get things back on track.”

Dominguez smiles in a skeptical way, like he knows you’re preoccupied and he’s curious as to why.  You smile back and hope it’s convincing.  

“We’ll have to go over some logistics, of course, after the final decisions are made,” he continues, turning his attention back to the room at large. “But for now, let’s consider that a flight from Miami is just a hop, skip, and a jump.  It makes sense.”

The rest of the assembled meeting guests murmur in agreement.

Your mind wanders back to that slip of paper tucked away inside your bag at the hotel, back to the man who gave it to you.  The ridiculous, self-assured little asshole who just knows you aren’t going to rat him out. Who just knows you’re going to join him for drinks like he’s not an actual federal fugitive and you’re not an actual federal agent.

Dominguez continues to drone on in the background.

“...and if you look at the numbers, you’ll see post-storm crime is actually way down…”

What you would give to be anywhere but this meeting right now.  You pinch the bridge of your nose, shut your eyes and go down the list of facts as you know them.

He’s been reading your emails.

Following your every move.

He wants to see you tonight.

What the hell is wrong with you that knowing all of this excites you instead of freaking you out? What does it mean that a part of you -- a really big part of you -- wants to take him up on his offer?

******************

Dominguez pulls you aside after the morning round of meetings wraps for lunch.  

“Hey,” he says, stopping you in the hallway.  “Are you alright? You’ve seemed just a little off since yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you say apologetically. “Been feeling a little off these past two days.”

Not technically a lie?

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Dominguez replies smoothly.

“Hope you’ll be feeling up to attending the reception tonight,” he continues. “I’d hate for you to miss it.”

You offer him a weak smile.  The look on his face right now is making you a bit queasy.

What if they knew? What then?

Once was insane enough. Once could be written off as a mistake, a terrible lapse in judgement.  An embarrassing and regrettable fluke.

But twice? Twice is a choice, a conscious decision.  

Twice would make you complicit -- a co-conspirator, a co-defendant and a whole host of other “C” words you’d rather not contemplate right now.  

There would be no explaining away twice.

You busy yourself with getting a bottled water from the vending machine just to have an excuse to look away. You tell yourself not to be paranoid. You have no reason to suspect they know anything and this is not the time to borrow worry.

“I’m going to try and get some rest after we wrap for the day,” you say finally, opening the bottle to take a drink.  “See if I feel better after that.”

Dominguez’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.  

“You do that, Agent.”

***********************

Wrapped in a towel, fresh from a shower, you alternate between staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror and looking back at that damning piece of paper in your hand.

You should put on the nice-but-work-appropriate cocktail dress you’d chosen for the reception that you should be attending tonight.  You should drop this piece of paper in the trash, forget Jungkook Jeon exists and move on.  You should be having drinks with your colleagues from the San Juan office in an hour, making decisions that don’t amount to career suicide and living life on the straight and narrow like a normal fucking human being.

Should, should, should.

You walk over to your suitcase and pull out a slim-cut sundress with spaghetti straps instead. You smooth your hands over the delicate material, imagine the light weight of the fabric would feel just right in this humid weather.  You slip the dress over your shoulders, smooth it down with your hands, turn from side to side to assess the fit.

For a moment you close your eyes and allow yourself to imagine Jungkook slipping his hands underneath this dress, pushing the hem up your thighs. You imagine his thumbs and fingers circling the sensitive skin there.  His lips on your neck.  His voice in your ear.

The sound of an incoming text knocks you out of your fantasy and you open your eyes to see your flushed reflection staring back in the mirror. You reach for your phone.

you gonna make it out tonight? [ 5:48 PM ]

You stare at Dominguez’s message for a moment.

Decision time.

Are you?

************************

You’ve been over every step you took before leaving the hotel at least a dozen times by now.

You’d sent Domniguez a text, claiming to be under the weather.

You’d left your phone in the safe in your room.

You’d walked out of the hotel through a service exit and into a waiting car.

All clear, decisive, sane choices despite the fact that you are obviously a crazy person. Because no one in their right mind would be pulling this kind of stunt.

The ride is short, only a few minutes from your federally-funded accommodations to the much more humble beachside hotel where Jungkook told you to meet him. You give the driver more than enough money to cover the fare and tip and step out into the thick night air.  You spot him a short distance away, sitting at a tiki bar just off the water.

Puerto Rico has apparently been very good to Jungkook Jeon.  

He is reclined casually in a barstool, drinking a bottled beer.  The creamy off-white of his linen shirt is a perfect contrast to the deep golden tan he’s managed to acquire these past few months. He’s let his wavy black hair grow long again and it falls just below his ears. The laugh he shares with the bartender reveals his smile and makes him look relaxed and radiant and fucking perfect.

Jungkook turns in his stool just as you approach and the slow, appreciative once-over he gives you makes your entire body feel warm. The corner of his mouth curves up in a half-smile.

Dammit.

You’ve got to get your head on straight.

Jungkook isn’t some hot, available guy you’re trying to land. He’s a wanted man and the fact that he’s sitting out in the open at this tiny outdoor beach bar makes you nervous. It’s a saving grace that the bar is damned near dead but there are still too many angles, too many clear lines of sight. You’re annoyed that he’s being so flippant about keeping a low profile.  

You wait until you are close enough to whisper before you speak.

“This is a terrible idea.”

He cocks a brow. “Drinks?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you hiss. “We need to go somewhere more private.”

“Christ woman,” he groans. “Don’t you know it’s polite to wine and dine me first? I’m not a piece of meat, you know.”

He grins when you huff your frustration.

“Besides, if you were really worried about drawing attention --” he pauses, rakes an appreciative gaze across your décolletage, “-- you certainly wouldn’t have worn that dress.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, does he ever turn it off? Is he incapable of recognizing how risky and fucked up this situation really is?

“You’re an idiot,” you bite out, turning to leave -- but Jungkook grabs for your wrist.

“Relax,” he soothes, pulling you back.  “Seriously.  I have the situation under control.”

A charged moment passes as you give him a long look. His hand remains firm and warm around your wrist.

“Do you trust me?”

What a ridiculous question.  

What you know about Jungkook Jeon could fit on an index card, and what little information you do have doesn’t exactly do him any favors. You’re putting your career -- potentially even your freedom at risk even being here.

But something about the naked sincerity on his face makes you want to trust him.

God only knows why.

You take a deep breath in and out before sliding into the barstool he’s pulled out for you.  The bartender smiles from a few feet away, makes his way over.  You tense, turning to face away and Jungkook puts a steadying hand on your knee.

“It’s cool,” he murmurs. “He knows me.”

“Why on earth do you think that’s supposed to make me feel better?” you fire back.

“I think -- you just need to have a drink,” he reasons, eyes sparkling. He lifts his beer to his lips and you catch yourself staring for a moment at the way the tendons in his arms flex, the way his lips slide over the mouth of the bottle.

Has the simple act of drinking a beer always looked that masculine?

Shit, you do need a drink.

You order a mojito without ever looking the bartender in the eye. Whoever he is -- Jungkook’s buddy it would seem -- he’s understanding about your appalling lack of manners. He can probably recognize a truly fucked-up situation from a mile away and is steering clear like someone with an inkling of common sense.

For his part, Jungkook has dropped the flirtatious act for a moment and the small smile that plays across his face is calm and reassuring.

It works.

“Alright Jeon,” you sigh after a moment. “Let’s talk. How did you do it?”

He takes a long drink of his beer.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

You’d expected as much. You would bet everything in the bank that his parents helped him get out of Los Angeles.  The kind but guarded look on his face is the closest you’ll get to a confirmation of that fact.

“Ask me anything else.”

“Fine.  How did you pull off the stunt at the airport?”

“Oh, that was easy,” Jungkook teases. “I found the driver holding your name card and offered him twice the fare. He was happy to help me out. Nice guy, actually.”

“He’s lucky you didn’t cut me into pieces,” you grumble.

Jungkook laughs. “You’ve got a wild imagination. Besides, who wouldn’t trust a face like this?”

To make his point, he turns from side to side to offer you a better look at his profiles. Outwardly you roll your eyes, but inwardly it’s hard to ignore the sharp line of his jaw, the perfectly symmetrical angles of his face.  You take another long drink from the cocktail in your hand.

“Why Puerto Rico?”

“Why not? The scenery is beautiful, the food is delicious, and people know how to mind their own goddamned business,” He takes another sip of beer. “Besides, you guys didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of options when you took my passport. And hey -- thanks for that, by the way.  Finding a good fake is a real bitch.”

“We’re not travel agents, Jeon,” you snort.

He laughs.

“So this -- “ you motion to the small building attached to the tiki bar, “ -- is where you’ve been staying?”

“Dammit, woman — I said ask me anything, not everything. You’re not wearing a wire, are you?”  

He grins at the glare you fix him with.  

“I’m kidding, obviously. No way you’d be able to hide a wire under that delightful little number.”

He chuckles when you flush.

“So yeah, this is one place I’ve been staying. Mostly locals around here.  After the storm, so many new people turned up to help rebuild that it’s been pretty easy to blend in with the new faces.  Plus, it’s not hard to find work.”

“So you’ve got this all figured out, huh?”

“Some of it,” he demures, and you can’t help but notice he’s managed to slide a little closer.  His proximity is distracting. You’ve only had one drink and you already feel a bit lightheaded.

Jungkook scrubs a hand down his mouth, fixes you with a long look.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Fair enough,” you concede.

“You gonna go to dinner with him?”

You exhale a nervous laugh against the rim of your glass. You’d wondered if the series of back-and-forth emails between you and Agent Kim Namjoon would come up. You should have known it would.

Agent Kim’s last email came this week. It said he would be traveling to Los Angeles for some training soon.

It said that he wanted to take you to dinner.  

You should have fired back an enthusiastic yes! right away because Agent Kim is hot and smart and to your knowledge has zero outstanding warrants.

But you didn’t.

Jungkook tilts the mouth of his beer against his lips.  

“Well?”

“Yes,” you say, finally.

“Don’t.”

The reply is so abrupt, so emphatic that you have to laugh.

“Why?”

“He’s an empty suit. A cardboard cut-out. Not right for you at all.”

The smirk on Jungkook’s mouth indicates he’s teasing, but his tone indicates something else entirely. The territorial current that runs under his words is annoying and exciting and complicated.

“He’s just trying to fuck you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at that.

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“No,” he murmurs, leaning close. “I have fucked you. I plan on fucking you again. He and I are not the same, at all.”

His words set off a throb between your thighs and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, uncross and recross your legs.  Jungkook leans back, looking satisfied with how much he’s managed to unnerve you.

“So this is some kind of pissing contest?”

You laugh to keep the sounds of your words light, but your words come out uneven. “You stalk my inbox for months and abduct me from the airport to what -- keep me from fucking Agent Kim? You hate him that much?”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Kim,” he snaps. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“You know what this is about. Don’t play with me.”

He’s right, of course.  You do know what this is about.  

It’s why you fucked him in an airplane bathroom against all rules of decorum and common sense.  It’s why you’re here, making stupid decisions and taking dumb risks instead of back at your hotel playing it safe. It’s why you’ve never been able to stop thinking about him.

Something connects you to this man, something you don’t really understand -- and now you know for a fact that whatever it is, it isn’t one-sided.

Your body is rigid, unnaturally still as the bartender drops off new drinks and you immediately reach for the glass, if for no other reason than to stall.  Jungkook takes a long sip from his new beer before speaking again.  You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t look back.

“I like you.”  

No sarcastic quip follows. No charged sexual innuendo.  Something about that simple admission is more intimate than the fact that he’s literally been inside you.

“You don’t know anything about me,” is the only thing you can think to say.  

Jungkook shoots you a playful smile.

“I know you like mojitos.  I know you have a standing appointment with some fancy hair salon in LA every six weeks.  I know you order Chipotle far more than is necessary or probably healthy.”

He leans closer and the look on his face changes into something different -- something that makes you shiver.  He slides his hand under your jaw, tips your head up, strokes a thumb across your cheek.  

“I know what you sound like when you come,” he whispers. “I know I’d like to hear that again.”

Oh, God.

This must be what it’s like to drown. To see your demise play out before your eyes but still feel powerless to stop it.  Every smart-assed retort you could fire back dies on your tongue and all you can do is blink when Jungkook brushes his lips against yours.

“And I know you like me too,” he whispers against your mouth.

He’s right.

You do.

You really, really do.

*****************************

It’s like a switch flips inside your brain.  Once you start kissing him, you can’t stop.  

You both fall through the open door to his room in a tangle of limbs and lips.

Jungkook lifts you up off the floor and you immediately wrap your legs around his waist, never stopping the assault on his mouth and skin.  He moans when you lick a stripe up his neck. He tastes like salt and sunscreen and sex and you are so desperate to feel him inside you that you can’t think straight.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he protests, walking you both over to the mattress.  He drops you unceremoniously on top of the bedding.

“Stop.”

“God, no,” you groan, panting.  “Why?”

He takes a deep breath in and out, shoves a hand through his hair.  

“I promised myself I was going to take my time with you if I ever got this chance again,” he explains, voice ragged with arousal. “No cuffs. No rush. Not this time.”

You huff in exasperation and climb up onto your knees on the mattress.  

Jungkook’s eyes widen when you drop both hands to the hem of your dress and pull it up and off in one swift motion.  You’d had to forgo a bra given the skimpy nature of your sundress and it’s easy to forget he hasn’t really seen you naked. The look on his face says he heartily approves.

“Take your time later,” you fire back.  “Take your clothes off now.”

Jungkook laughs.  “Are you always this bossy?”

“Yes.  If you wait one minute longer I’m going to sober up and realize this is a terrible decision. Take your clothes off.”

“Hush woman.”  

He silences you with mock annoyance as his fingers drop to work the buttons of his shirt. You catch your mouth before it drops open as he pulls the shirt off, exposing the chiseled planes of his body.  You swallow thickly when he drops the garment to the floor.  

No human being should be allowed to look like this.

It’s obscene.

The tattoos that run across his hands and forearms extend up to his shoulders, across his chest. The defined lines that outline his abdomen are made even more plain by his deep breaths.  He is -- hands down -- the sexiest man you have ever seen in your life.  

“Shit Jungkook, you’ve been holding out on me,” you breathe, a note of awe in your voice.

“And I knew you had amazing tits,” he grins, shoving his jeans off his hips. “Lie back.”

The gruff command makes your body tight with anticipation.  Jungkook’s face is damp with sweat, locks clinging to his brow when he sinks down onto the mattress and crawls until he’s hovering over you.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers, slanting his lips over yours.  “Goddamnit, I’ve been thinking about this for so damned long.”

You sigh into his mouth.

Me too, you want to say. But you don’t.

“I’ve thought about the way you taste every single day, did you know that?”

He circles one aching nipple with his tongue and teeth.  You whimper at the heavy drag of his tongue.  

“I’ve imagined getting my mouth on you again far more than is normal or sane,” he whispers against your skin, pulling the damp lace of your panties off your ankles and tossing it away.

“Jungkook,” you whine. “Please.”

His lips skate over the sensitive skin between your breasts, across your stomach as he slides downward.  Your body stills when you feel his lips at your entrance, breath warm against your wetness.  

The first touch of his tongue is quick, teasing.  You’re wound so tight your hips jerk off the bed at that light contact.

“Easy girl,” Jungkook teases, sealing his mouth over your clit.  The strong fingers of one hand press into your hip, grip you tight to keep you from pulling away.  He slips one long finger from his other hand inside you to join his tongue in the all-out assault.

“God you are sexy,” he groans, licking deeply into you.  You grab handfuls of his damp hair in between shaking fingers.   “You’ve ruined me for all other federal agents, you know.”

Your laugh bleeds into a gasp when Jungkook slips a second finger inside of you, presses harder against you with his tongue.

“Oh, shit,” you whine, legs trembling. You roll your hips mindlessly, enjoying the way he moans in response.

“You gonna let me hear it again?” his words vibrate almost painfully against your already aching clit. “Be as loud as you want this time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh in agreement, feeling that telltale prickle building between your thighs.

He sets you off with the firm press of the heel of his hand on your mound.  You can’t control your body’s reaction when the pressure against that sensitive wall and the stimulation of your clit combine.  Your back arches high off the bed when you start to come apart, moaning wantonly.

Your orgasm seems to go on and on forever and Jungkook whispers words of encouragement as you ride it out.  He doesn’t stop with his tongue and fingers until you start to quiver from the overstimulation, breaths hitching when shudders run up and down your back.

“Dammit, Jungkook,” you gasp once you regain control of your ragged breathing.

He laughs as he kisses his way back up your body, across your chest and neck.  You welcome the press of his body when he settles over you.  He grinds his hips down and you whimper at the feel of his rigid cock straining against his boxers.   You clench hard at the memory of him deep inside you.

“Take those off,” you order, scraping your teeth against the damp skin of his neck.

“Ask me nice and I might consider it,” he teases.

You shoot him a playfully disapproving look before pushing against his shoulder until he rolls over.  His eyes fall shut when you climb over him and drag your drenched center against the firm outline of his cock.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he whispers, and you lean forward to seal your lips over his.  He pants into your mouth as you rock against him.

You slide down his body after a moment, hooking your fingers into his boxers and pulling them down with you.

The thing about your hurried little encounter inside that airplane bathroom is that it’s hard to remember the details.  It was so rushed and illicit and bizarre that you can barely recount what he felt like, what he looked like in the moment.  But right now -- when his cock springs free and he looks down at you from beneath heavy lids and he looks so sincerely fucked out -- you make sure to commit this moment to memory.  

Jungkook sucks a strangled breath between his teeth when you take him in your mouth.  His fingers immediately wind into your hair and you sigh around his length when he groans his satisfaction.  His hips jerk when you pull off of him, dragging your tongue against the sensitive spot under the head of his cock before releasing it.

“Shit,” he moans, “I forgot how good you are at that.”

You laugh and wrap one hand firmly around the base of his cock. He’s already leaking at the tip and he hisses when you sweep your tongue across the swollen head. He gathers your hair in his hands, pulls gently on the strands but you can feel the restraint he’s exercising. His body is radiating tension, taut with unspent energy.  

“You can get rougher if you want,” you breathe, pumping him steadily with your hands.  

His agonized groan tells you he’d love to take you up on that offer.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he pants, words sounding pained. “I’m doing everything I can not to literally blow my second chance here.”

You release his cock with a smile and he pulls away to shift his body up the bed. He reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a condom.  He holds it up for a moment and the two of you share a knowing laugh.

The laughter dies the moment you crawl up the bed to join him and take the condom out of his hand.  Jungkook’s eyes are dark and focused as you rip it open and roll it down his straining cock.  Once it’s in place he steals the air from your lungs with a deep kiss and pulls you onto his lap.  

You’re struck still for a moment when you look down at him just as you are lining him up with your entrance. He looks back at you with those blown-out pupils and kiss-bitten lips and you lose your momentum.  You should say something or do something but it’s so damned hard to focus when he’s looking at you like that.

He brushes a damp lock of hair away from your face with his fingers and fixes you with an expectant look.

You want to tell him how handsome he is.

You want to tell him that he’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met.

But you don’t.  

Jungkook rescues you from your sudden crisis with a well-timed tease.

“You’ve been rushing me since we got here,” he chuckles, brow raised. “You’re gonna leave me like this?”

He grabs the base of his stiff cock with one hand, rubs the head against your clit to make his point. You answer him with a desperate kiss, swallowing the groan he makes when you finally sink down.

His hands move to either side of your ass to guide the movement of your hips.  Your first few thrusts are hesitant, shaky as you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you.  He feels harder and thicker than you remember.

“Oh, god --” you moan.

You feel his faint hum of satisfaction against your breasts.  He tongues messily at your aching nipples, sucks them into his mouth.  His fingers dig into your ass as he thrusts up to meet your thrusts down.  

His mouth is full of you. His hands are full of you.  You are full of him.  The feeling of filling and being filled is unbearable at this point.  It’s so much stimulation at once that it borders on painful.

“Feel so good wrapped around me like this,” Jungkook groans. “I can’t get enough.”

Me neither, you want to say. I’ve been dying to feel you like this, you nearly whisper.

But you don’t.

You feel disoriented for a moment and grab onto the headboard for desperately needed balance.  It gives you the leverage you need to take him deeper, faster, and the steady rhythm of his thrusts and breaths starts to pick up in speed.

Then you make the mistake of opening your eyes and looking down into his face.

He is covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes hooded and mouth slack with pleasure. He fixes you with a look so erotic you nearly blush.  It’s pretty ridiculous to be literally riding a man’s cock and feel suddenly shy, but that’s exactly what happens.  

You force yourself to close your eyes.

Jungkook buries his face in your neck. You feel one of his hands move away from your hips, down to where the two of you meet. The rough pad of one thumb starts to work your clit and the stimulation distracts you for a moment, makes your rhythm sloppy.  

“I want to feel you come,” he breathes, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone and neck. “I want to know what it feels like when I’m inside you.”

“So close,” you whine on a shaky breath.

“I’m gonna go off like a bomb,” he groans, stroking so deep you see stars.  “Take me with you.”

If it weren’t for the one hand keeping you anchored to the headboard, you’d have collapsed onto him with the sheer force of your orgasm.  You whimper as Jungkook’s orgasm rips through him, body shuddering as he pounds harder and faster.  It takes a few frantic, frenzied moments for his rhythm to slow and his moans to subside.

Then you do slump onto him, spent and sweaty and rubbery with utter exhaustion. You’re both still for a moment, damp bodies pressed together as you both catch your breath.

He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

***********************************

You take a shower together.  

Afterwards, you both fall back into bed clean and warm.  

You make good on your promise to let Jungkook take his time this go-around.  He fucks you slow and relaxed from behind while you lay side by side.  The steady lap of the waves outside his window is a perfect backdrop as he whispers into your ear and buries himself deep inside you.

Afterwards, everything is still but the waves.  

You both enjoy the complete silence for a while.  Your stroke your fingers across the strong forearm Jungkook has wrapped around you and he breathes deeply into your hair.  It feels natural, somehow.

It feels good.  

You can’t remember the last time anything felt this good.

“Stay with me,” Jungkook whispers after a while, nosing into the nape of your neck.  He drops a soft kiss on the sensitive skin just below your ear.  

“I can’t,” you whisper back.  “I have a meeting first thing in the morning. Don’t tell me you skipped that email.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“I wasn’t talking about tonight.”

You go rigid from head to toe.  Maybe you didn’t hear that right.

“What?”

“Stay with me,” he says again, like it’s going to make more sense the second time he says it. “We could go all over the world and eat the best food and fuck in the most beautiful places.”  His fingers stroke up your side, sending chills up your back. “It could be great.”

You wait for him to laugh.  He doesn’t.

You pull out of his hold, flip your body so that you’re facing him.  You expect to see his teasing smirk staring back, but you don’t. He looks serious.

“What the fuck was in that beer, Jeon?”

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” he says quietly. “You could think about it for a while.”

You stare at the side of his perfect profile, dazed for a moment by the strange combination of feelings swirling inside you right now.  

There’s disbelief at the insane Bonnie and Clyde fantasy he’s decided to pitch.

There’s disappointment because there’s a tiny part of you that wants to entertain that fantasy.

And there’s a little bit of heartache because right now he looks so lonely.  

That’s the part that gnaws at you.  It makes you feel raw and exposed.  So you do what you know best and try to redirect with humor.

“Who’s got a wild imagination now, huh?”

His lips twitch into a wry smile.  

************************

You’d waited until you were certain he was asleep before slipping out of his arms and out of the bed.  He slept heavy, not stirring once while you slipped into your clothes and shoes.  He slept like someone without a care in the world.

Hardly.

It had taken a moment to find a piece of paper.  It was only just as you were about to give up that you remembered Jungkook’s note, tucked safely into your bag.

You looked back at him in the bed -- studied him for a moment before quietly scrawling a note on the other side of that piece of paper.

you know i can’t. i’m sorry.

[neonponders]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight 

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

[xenteaart]

Shall We? (Part 2)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!Reader

Request: Can I request part two for Shall We? Pleeeeaase 🙏!! You can’t just leave it like that.

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: kind of a fight scene?? and like one swear word idk

Note: Sooo here’s part two of this fic, give it a read if you havent coz otherwise this one is not going to make much sense haha

For the sake of the story, Five disappeared when he was 18 (instead of 13) and got stuck in his 18 year-old-body after coming back accordingly. Also I’ve decided to give the reader and the Handler kind of a Lila x the Handler dynamic

The events are taking place in s1, some details of the canon are obvsly altered.

ALSO THERE’S A LIL EASTER EGG AT THE END MWEHEHE

Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @stitched-mouth​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​

“You do know you can’t win. I really don’t wanna hurt you, Y/N,” he uttered, raising his hands a little as a way to warn you not to come any closer for your own good.

Even though it was supposed to be a sweet gesture of concern, hearing him confirm that he still thought you were no match for him cut you to your very core.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m afraid you might have to. Shall we?” you sneered and threw your leg into the air, hitting Five right under his kneecap and making him collapse on the ground with a surprised gasp.

Five truly had zero intention of hurting you, but your determination to have a fight left him no choice, and even his clear advantage of having loads more experience and superpowers on top did not seem to make you hesitate.

“Come on, don’t be stupid, Y/N,” Five commented as he got back on his feet and took a few steps away from you, still giving you a chance to back off before he had to inflict any pain on your person, but all it achieved was winding you up even more.

The problem was - you two underwent identical training at the Commission as the Handler gave both of you her very best mentor, and right now you were basically mirroring each other’s moves, except Five was also using his spatial jumps to disorient you. He was still going easy on you, mostly just blocking your punches and jumping further away so you had to chase him all over the Academy while he was hoping you would simply exhaust yourself before any real damage would be done. Quite frankly, it was a smart decision on his part and a rather thoughtful one as well because, despite all appearances, he actually cared about you an awful lot.

As the both of you gracefully danced all the way to the second floor, you were already out of breath from the endless running around which meant Five’s plan was beginning to work. However, you realized what he was doing soon enough to indulge him into the feeling of being right and played his little game for a while, waiting for the perfect moment when he’d get distracted, and as the moment came you had to act fast.

You threw yourself forwards and promptly wrapped your arms around Five’s waist, knocking him off his feet and pressing your body against his as you pinned him to the floor. He groaned with annoyance and winced at the pain as his back hit the hard wooden surface. The next few seconds sort of happened in slow-mo for both of you as he roughly pushed you off himself and somehow managed to switch places with you, now looming over your body and warningly putting his knee on your solar plexus, threatening to crush your ribcage if you moved.

A mutual silence fell between you as you were processing the last 30 minutes of your lives, both visibly struggling to believe that each of you somehow ended up fighting the person they would never wish to hurt in their entire life. The sounds of your heavy breathing were filling the room as you were merely staring at each other in utter confusion. The weight of Five’s knee on your diaphragm was beginning to give you trouble breathing, and your breaths became shallow and hoarse which finally snapped him out of his trance.

“Gonna tell me what the hell is up now, Y/N?” he asked in his teacher-y manner that you used to absolutely hate and adore all at once, especially when he used to give you lectures on your occasional fuck-ups - whether it was failing a class because you were too lazy to turn in your assigments in time or something a little more serious, like getting into an argument with the Monocle and consequently making life harder for both of you.

You would always roll your eyes and smirk when he would get into his i-am-disappointed-in-you-but-i-still-love-you character and cross his arms on his chest for dramatic effect.

“You were the one telling me to piss off in the first place, remember,” you narrowed your eyes as you were subtly gasping for air underneath Five’s weight. He pursed his lips and looked away, contemplating whether or not to be completely honest. Evidently, his lack of sincerity got him nowhere the last time around, so he sighed loudly; his shoulders dropping and his expression finally revealing all of the exhaustion and regret that he was concealing quite successfully up until now.

“I only pushed you away to protect you.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” you replied, clearly unimpressed and palpably suspicious; two years of being brainwashed by the Handler now taking their toll on your perspective.

“God, don’t be so slow,” Five uttered clearly irritated but then quickly realized his offensive implication and added, “Said with respect.”

You stayed silent, raising your brow as a way of telling him to continue.

“I couldn’t risk you becoming a casualty because being involved in my family’s mess as a non-super is dangerous. As in, you’re going to be a target all the time, and I couldn’t and still can’t afford to waste my time worrying about your safety. As much as I’d love to - it’s simply not the luxury I have. I’ve got to stop the end of the world, otherwise everyone is going to be dead in four days, don’t you get it?” Five asked, a waterfall of emotions pushing at the inner sides of his chest, waiting to be set loose and consume everything on its way.

You were quietly listening to his explanation and taking it all in whilst still trying to fight off the suspicion and disbelief that were nagging at your every cell.

“I wanted to keep you safe because I couldn’t bear to lose you again,” his voice trembled a little as the memories of his post-apocalypse life washed over his mind, “The last 45 years have been a fucking nightmare.”

“I’d find it way more believable if you stopped crushing my ribs for starters,” you muttered through clenched teeth and immediately felt the pressure taken off your chest, precious and very much needed oxygen starting to flow through your system the way it should again.

Five got up and offered his hand to help you on your feet as a gesture to show you that he didn’t see you as an enemy and placed trust in you. You took his hand and steadied yourself awkwardly, still slightly disoriented and light-headed.

“I don’t know what the Handler told you but I do know she’s exceptional at manipulating,” Five added as he looked you right in the eye, “Christ, and you’re so naive, always have been. Most days it’s truly adorable but sometimes, Y/N, it really doesn’t work in your favor,” as the words escaped his lips, his gaze became noticeably softer; his expression blossoming with tenderness towards you.

“Prove it. Prove that you care.”

Five chuckled and shook his head, simultaneously annoyed and amused at your stubbornness. The atmosphere between you was shifting and you couldn’t help but notice the familiar overwhelming feeling of comfort and peace enveloping your person from head to toe. You’ve forgotten what it felt like being around Five, and now you were finally getting to remember. At home.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his uniform shorts and pulled out a grape-sized plastic figure of a golden retriever.

“You gave me this a few days before I jumped and got stuck in the future. I carried it with me all the way. This silly trinket was the only thing I had left of you, the only thing that reminded me you were still out there waiting for me. Kept me going,” he shrugged casually as if it wasn’t important at all which it absolutely was.

“Five, c’mere! Look what I found!” you called for him as you were sitting on the floor surrounded by all sorts of useless crap. You were in the middle of decluttering your bedroom when a little figure of a dog caught your eye, it was the breed that Five was especially fond of and you knew he secretly dreamed of getting a puppy of his own as soon as he was out of the house.

“What’s that?” he asked, unimpressed.

“It’s a doggie! He wants to be your friend,” you replied, playing with your accent a little, rolling you “r”s and shifting the flow of your words to sound more Scottish or ... Russian. God knows where you were going with it but you tended to butcher your accent for fun quite a lot.

“Y/N, are you twelve?”

“His name is Mr.Pennycrumb and he’s gonna look after you whenever I’m not around,” you said with utmost confidence and gave him a wide smile, putting the trinket into Five’s pocket, clearly very proud of yourself and still committed to your silly accent performance, “Treat him well.”

Five scoffed and shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“So did he?” you asked, staring at the goddamn toy as tears were slowly welling up in your eyes.

“What?”

“Did he do a good job looking after you while I wasn’t around?” your gaze finally met Five’s as the realization in his own eyes was starting to sink in. A pained smile touched the corners of his mouth, and you could see Five genuinely struggle to maintain his tough facade.

“Yeah. He did.”

Without saying a word, you stepped closer and rested your cheek on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him, this time with no hostility or murderous intention. If you had to be perfectly honest with yourself, you’d admit you could never find it in you to actually hurt Five, let alone killing him. Both of you knew that way too well.

He returned the hug and pulled you closer, burying his nose in your hair and then planting a quick innocent kiss on the top of your head. Feeling the warmth radiating from you was enough to make him relax further into your embrace, his eyes now closed shut and his breathing steady and deep.

It didn’t last for as long as you’d like, though, a big loud bang from downstairs making you both flinch and pull away from each other, breaking your fragile bubble of comfort and calm in an instant.

“Shit, Hazel and Cha-Cha,” Five whispered, concern and worry crawling back onto his features. He briefly looked at you, and you simply nodded, non-verbally confirming that you were willing to help and were no longer part of the Handler’s plan.

The two of you were going to talk all about that later. His years alone, his and your own involvement with the Commission, the end of the world and loads more.

Of course, right in this moment neither of you could possibly know that your friendship was, in fact, a gateway into a lifelong partnership but you were bound to find out eventually. And the journey you two were about to begin as soon as the apocalypse was dealt with and gone was going to be magnificent.

[theangrycomet]

Comparing KO’s (OK KO) Character Arc to Cassandra’s (TTS)

Ok THIS^ actually bothers me and I really hope it’s a shit-post. Sorry, @astratic, but you have inadvertently signed up for some Character Analysis.

Let’s establish one critical difference between Cassandra and KO before we really dig into this shall we?

Cassandra is a fully developed, fully functional adult roughly in her early to mid twenties.

KO is a CHILD, who’s age is literally 6-11, though fans typically agree that he acts in the 8-9 range. Additionally, he is commonly head cannoned to be on the Autistic Scale and/or ADHD.

Because of this, their decisions and actions need to be seen through different lenses.

Point 1: work tirelessly to become a hero like [parent] who you idolize

KO:

This statement perfectly depicts KO’s goals. KO strives to be a hero in order to help people to the best of his abilities. He hates being useless and powerless to help his friends, so he trains to be a better hero and works through his struggles with their help. He lives to be like his mommy and his father-figure. I mean, look at him when Gar praises KO and tells him how proud he is of him.

Cassandra:

Cassandra’s goals are different. She wants to be a guard at the end of the day for glory. She wants people to see and acknowledge her abilities and strength and admire her for it.

Yes, making her dad proud is a benefit of that, but that is NOT her driving motivation.

Point 2: Become discourage by lack of progress and hindrance by social status

KO:

Social status was NEVER KO’s problem. His stalling in progress, as I mentioned in another post, was a mental block. He couldn’t tap into his power He came from lower middle, working class family with a single mom.

Cassandra:

Social Status was her problem, but only up until the 1st season finale where she was placed as Captain of the Guard.

She had regular progress in getting more time and respect as a royal guard. The fact that She CHOSE to leave that behind in order to follow her crush on some half-baked, unplanned road trip is only the fault of her own. She threw out the chance she had been waiting for for her entire life to follow Rapunzel.

And than was given numerous opportunities through out the trip to leave and pursue other goals. 

Point 3. Be Mentally Ill

Okay, first OP, you could phrased that WAY better. 

Secondly, the mental struggles our characters face are completely different and largely incomparable so to group the two is insulting to both characters.

KO: 

Disassociative Identity Disorder (or multiple personality disorder) 

Possible Undiagnosed Autism and or ADHD

KO develops Disassociative Identity Disorder, due to his frustration at lack of progress, the manipulation of Shadowy figure, and his bottling up of negative emotions. KO is mostly unaware of what happens when TKO is in charge and vice-versa. It took the two a long time to figure out how to work together and eventually merge back into one personality. 

He also demonstrates some traits typically associated with Autism and ADHD, though some of those could be on account of his age. It is a common head cannon amongst fans that his either and sometimes both. 

Cassandra:

Cassandra doesn’t have to deal with any mental illness until the season 3 finale where it can be gleamed that she’s working through depression if you squint at it. 

Yes, there is the Blueberry Ghost, but she was never a result of Cass’ mental state so much as her being host to the Moon Stone. 

Her struggles lie in reigning in her anger and her pride so that she can see problems from unbiased perspectives and apologize for her actions. And that is left still unresolved by the time the finale comes around. 

Point 4. find out long lost parent is actually horrifically villainous and have a whole crisis about it.

Perhaps, we need a little reminder here before I dig into this one:

KO is a child figuring himself out and Cassandra is an adult figuring out what she wants in life.

KO:

KO had been struggling with his darker side for quite some time before he asked his Mom about who exactly his dad was. 

This was something the show had demonstrated time after time that bothered KO, not knowing who his dad was.

So he finds out his dad was this big time hero, and gets reassurance from that fact that he comes from great heroes, so he too can be a hero. Only for that to be immediately tossed out the window when it’s revealed that the only person he hates in the entire world, the person he dubs as the truly evil villain, is actually his father. 

His whole world is not only shook to its core, but his self-confidence as well. Laserblast was a great hero who turned villain; what does that mean for a hero-in-training whose already struggling with that darker side. 

Praise Carol for not killing PV on the spot. 

Additionally, PV didn’t actually know KO even existed until a few months before this incident, and wasn’t even sure if KO was his kid (KO does coincidentally share a lot of Physical attributes to Gar) until KO came busting in, wearing Laserblast’s helmet and bragging about how his dad was a great hero.

So when they attempted to have that father-son relationship, it was as awkward and strained as it should have been. (I’ll get to the OK KO Finale in just a minute)

Cassandra:

Cass could have cared less as to whom her real parents were. She had her dad. She had her goals. She had her job. Who her parents were and why they dumped her on the Captain was irrelevant to her life. 

She didn’t care until Season 3, and that whole season was OOC for everybody, 

Even then, it wasn’t so much as a crisis so much as an excuse to use to fight Rapunzel. It didn’t matter that Gothel was her mother, it mattered that Gothel picked the Sundrop over her. Which in all honesty was the best thing that could have happened to Cass.

Her “crisis” revolved around a dead woman’s shattered legacy more than her mother. 

Point 5: Fall under the influence of said Villainous parental figure

KO TKO: (again, a CHILD)

TKO was used and manipulated into letting his darker side show by Professor Venomous/ Shadowy Figure, (this is my opinion), in order to actually have something they could relate to eachother on. 

Yes, Shadowy Venomous saw TKO as more of his tool for power, but you can’t deny that he wasn’t motivated to have his son by his side. 

Additionally, KO had at this point literally locked away a part of himself because he didn’t have the tools to deal TKO with this mentally or emotionally. So he responded the best way he could and pushed the problem down so he and others wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up TKO’s messes.  

KO was in desperate need for someone to understand how he was and how to help him.

And guess who was there.

Cassandra: (again, an ADULT)

Cass was never led on by Gothel, she was led on by Zhan Tiri.

Cass was delusioned that the moonstone was hers by Zhan Tiri just as much as Rapunzel was delusioned into thinking stopping the moonstone was her destiny by Demanitus. 

However, Zhan Tiri really didn’t make Cass do anything, she never pushed her past the breaking point, she never forced her to do anything. 

Baked Ziti only prompted Cass, reminding her what she was angry at. 

Cass was perfectly capable of ignoring her and doing her own thing. 

Point 6: suddenly and dramatically betray everyone you love even as they plead with you to stop. Become convinced they all hate you except for [villainous parental figure] who is actually just manipulating you to gain power.

This point is actually a very good description of what happened to both, given different contexts. Again, remember that KO is a child who is significantly more easily influenced than Cass should have been.

(Note: again, Zhan Tiri’s not her Parental figure and neither was Gothel)

Point 7: ruin everything and destroy your home

KO TKO:

His destructive rampage was motivated by the betrayal of the one person he believed to understand and support him entirely. He was literally grabbed by the shirt, lifted in the air, told he was nothing more than a tool at best, and that the plan to conquest together had been a lie. 

Wonder where I’ve seen THAT BEFORE?

(Sorry about the low photo Quality, I quickly search and screen shotted so)

(yes it’s this scene that made me think Mad Ben and TKO would get along)

Cassandra:

Which betrayal are we talking about? Because both involve trained guards rightfully attacking Cass for injuring the crown royalty and wrecking the castle.

Point 8/9: snap out of it at the last second and be horrified at what you've wrought/ the world is fixed by an incredible magic. Reconcile with your loved ones. Flourish

KO: 

This is accurate. 

But KO didn’t have to lose his power to see how bad he messed up. He was actually at the top of his game. He probably could have taken out the President of the Universe if he really wanted to. Instead he begged for everything to get fixed, and wished that EVERYONE (even Professor Venomous) could live their best lives. 

Cassandra:

She was only repentent AFTER she lost her power. Even then, she does not apologize for her actions but rather the circumstances and ONLY to Rapunzel herself. She does not care that she caused a world catastrophe, and still wouldn’t have had she won. 

With how it was executed, Cass did NOT deserve such an easy redemption. She should have had to work at it. She should have at least attempted to apologize to the people whose lives she ruined. To the people she’s hurt. Not just Rapunzel. Rapunzel has no right to forgive her in place of everyone else. 

Eugene should not have to forgive her.

Varian should not have to forgive her.

The Brotherhood honestly deserves to fight her in combat. 

She should not have been able to ride off into the sunset and avoid the consequences of her actions. 

BUT I digress. 

IN SUMMARY:

KO and Cass, while they share some similarities, do NOT have the same Character Arc. At all.

Sincerely, 

TheAngryComet

[pleasereadmycrap]

Is This Just a Game?

Pairing: Ransom x Reader

Warnings: Major Angst, My crappy writing

Summary: You learn the truth about you and Ransom

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I did not proofread this. Sorry. Also I have an idea for a part 2 but I don’t know if its worth writing so please let me know what you think.

“God! How could Harlan be such a prick?” Ransom thought as he stormed out the door.

Why had he even come to this party? He knew it was a bad idea as he had driven up in his Beamer. He hated his family! What was he thinking? Stupid!

How could Harlan treat him, his own grandson, like this? Ransom thought back on their conversation and fumed with anger.

…

“You wanted to see mee?” Ransom asked as he stepped through the door into Harlan’s study.

“Yes. Please sit,” Harlan gestured to the seat across from where he sat behind his massive wooden desk. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“That’s never good.” Ransom muttered under his breath.

“No! You will let me finish! For too long, I have been far too generous with my family, and I’m done.”

“What?”

“You and the rest of this wretched family are a bunch of ingrates who have depended on me and not yourselves for far too long, so I’m cutting you off,” Harlan explained.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ransom, your credit card is linked to my bank account. I can see your history.”

“So?”

“I didn’t realize that hookers could be paid with cash nowadays until I looked at your credit card statements. A different girl every night? Really, Ransom?”

“What do you expect? I’m young, and I’m trying to enjoy it!” Ransom shouted as he moved to stand behind his chair and fix Harlan with a hard glare.

“I had hoped that you would’ve given up your foolish games by now. You’re not a boy anymore! I thought that you would've tried to make something of yourself or have settled down.”

“So you’re cutting me off?” Ransom exclaimed in disbelief. How could this be happening? What the hell! Was he off his meds or something? “What are you gonna do with your money?”

“I have some terms. If you don’t meet them I will effectively cut you off and give your share of my estate to Marta.”

“Your nurse? You’re betraying your family! You’re betraying me for your nurse?”

“Not if you do as I ask.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to find someone, and I want you to bring her to my birthday next year. If you have not found a girl who you are serious about by next year, you’re out,” Harlan said calmly.

“I’ll kill you for this!” Ransom yelled as he stormed out of the study and through the front door

…

After that, Ransom had ran out to his Beamer and drove away. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he was angry.

Now, he was seated at the bar of some dingy bar just off the highway. He had hoped that he could drown his sorrows with whiskey, but he was 4 glasses in, and all he could think about was how his grandfather was an ass.

It was nearing closing, and the bar had emptied out except for Ransom and the bartender who was shooting him dirty looks. The place was completely silent until Ransom heard the sound of the door opening behind him and the cold rush of wind on his neck.

… *Your POV*...

“I’m sorry, but is this place still open?” you asked as you stepped through the door of the tavern.

It had been a rough night for you. You had broken up with your boyfriend, and he had kicked you out of the apartment that you had shared, and now all of your stuff was packed into your car. You really needed a drink.

“We were just closing up!” the bartender called with an exasperated tone.

“Yeah, but you’ll stay open for us, right?” the handsome man at the bar said as he threw down a 100 on the countertop.

“Whatever,” the bartender said as she pocketed the money and walked to stand at the opposite end of the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked as you walked up to the bar cautiously. You knew to be wary of strangers even if just looking at them did make your panties melt.

“No. Be my guest,” he said as he looked up at you, and you froze. His eyes were the most beautiful that you had ever seen. They reminded you of a sparkling ocean or the sky on a clear day. You snapped yourself out of it quickly though and sat next to the man.

“You know that was a lot of money to throw down just for a couple more drinks.”

“It’s not a problem for me.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’m Y/N.”

“Pretty name. I’m Ransom,” he said as he shook the hand you had proffered. “What’s a girl like you doing in a bar like this?” he asked as he glanced emphatically at their surroundings.

“You don’t want to hear about a stranger’s personal problems.”

“Sure I do,” he said with a friendly smile.

“I broke up with my boyfriend tonight, and he kicked me out.’

“Bartender!” Ransom called out to where she stood wiping the countertop at the opposite end of the bar. “Two shots of tequila please.”

“Woah!” you chuckled. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“And what if I am?”

“I might just let you,” you said with a smile.

…

He had gotten you into bed that night, and after a brief talk the next morning, you had been together ever since. That was a year ago. Your entire love had felt so easy and free.

Now, it was the night of Harlan’s birthday party, and it was your first time meeting Ransom’s family.

“I’m scared, Ransom,” you whispered as the two of you approached the door of Harlan’s manor.

“Don’t be.”

“But everything that you said…”

“Is an exaggerated tale of my own feelings about my family. You’re not me which means that they’ll already like you a hell of a lot more than they like me,” Ransom replied as he stopped and wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you,” you murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, Y/N”

With that, the two of you reached the door and with more than a little hesitation, Ransom reached up and knocked on the heavy door.

…

It was two hours later, and you could finally see what Ransom had been talking about. His tales weren’t exaggerated. His family was just as bad as he had said, but they loved you. Linda and Richard spent the entire night fawning over you, and the rest of the family had been relatively polite to you even if they weren’t to each other.

Ransom had been keeping a protective watch over you all night. He hadn’t let you out of his sight until his grandfather had called him into his study. Against all of your expectations, he exited the room 20 minutes later positively ecstatic.

Ransom wrapped you up in a huge hug, spun you around and kissed you passionately.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into your ear, and then he attempted to coax you upstairs with his wicked ideas, but Harlan’s nurse Marta interrupted you.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N. Harlan would like to see you in his study,” she said.

“Oh, did he say what it was about?” you asked, thoroughly confused as to what Harlan could possibly want with you.

“No, just that it would please him very much to talk to you.”

“Ok, I’ll be right back,” you replied as you kissed Ransom on the cheek before disappearing into Harlan’s study.

“Miss Y/L/N, please close the door behind you,” he said as you entered.

“Of course. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“How long have you been dating my grandson?’

“A year exactly. Actually, tonight is our anniversary,” you answered.

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You were confused by that but you didn’t say anything.

“Do you know why I called my grandson in here tonight?” Harlan asked you with a look of pity.

“No,” you said with a cautious tone.

“A year ago, I gave him an ultimatum. I told him to get serious about his life and settle down with a girl, or I would cut him off. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes. I believe I do,” you said with your eyes watering. “Thank you, Harlan,”

You stood and rushed out of the house as fast as you could before you realized that Ransom was your ride. In the distance, you spotted a gazebo, and you figured that was as good a place to call an Uber from as anywhere.

… *Ransom’s POV*...

Ransom watched you run out of the party with considerable confusion. He followed after you and watched as you ran to the gazebo.

“Y/N,” he called out as he approached the gazebo slowly.

“Go away, Ransom.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief.

“It’s over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Harlan told me about the ultimatum!” you spat in his direction as you turned to face him.

“Shit,” Ransom muttered.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“No! You don’t understand! I was desperate. I had never lived without his money before, so when I met you, it seemed so perfect.

Yeah, I admit it. I was just going to keep you around until tonight and then dump you and claim that things ‘hadn’t worked out’, but then I got to know yo-“

“No, save it! Just tell me; was any of it real?”

“Yes. Of course this is real! We’re real! I love you!”

“That’s what you always say to me. Well, this time it isn’t enough. I’m calling an Uber. Don’t come home tonight; I’ll be moved out by the morning.”

“Y/N…”

“Was this just a game to you? Were we just a game to you?”

“No. I loved you then, and I love you now. I’m sorry.”

“That is what everyone says. Everyone who has ever disappointed me, they’ve always said sorry, and I’m sick of it. I’m done with crappy guys like you. I thought that I had found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with, somebody different, but you’re just the same as every other douchey guy out there and you’re kidding yourself if you think otherwise. No matter how much money or class you have, you are still a disappointment because some things, money can’t buy. Leave, Ransom, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Don’t say that,Y/N. Please don’t leave me,” Ransom pleaded with you as his eyes filled with tears.

“You already made my decision when you decided to use me, Ransom. It’s over.”

“Don’t do th-“

“My Uber’s here,” you said, cutting him off.

He watched you walk away into the darkness towards a silver freaking Prius, knowing that he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[littlewickedwiccan]

For The Workers

Chapter 3 

Alfie x Reader

Warning: Swearing, obvs

Authors note: We finally get some one on one time with Alfie. Enjoy! x  

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

Tags: @itsjusttaralove​ @advictedtohim​

Today is the first day you are stepping foot into the Camden warehouse as a worker rather than as an uninvited visitor. You’d not slept much the night before, you have a current of electricity running through your body and a knot forming in your stomach. You feel oddly giddy about spending the whole day in the warehouse and you just can’t shake yourself out of it. 

You’d been assured by Tommy before you left Birmingham, that there would always be a Peaky keeping an eye on you. Although it was meant to make you feel safer, it just made you very aware of all the eyes that were already being redirected in your direction.  

As you made your way through the large oak door frame, Ollie’s youthful face greeted you at the door. Out of all the men you’d come across in this place, he seemed the least threatening.  

“Welcome back. Alfie sent me to come show you to your office. It’s only small, but for the work you’ll be doing, it should be alright.”

Ollie gets straight to the point and starts leading you down the red brick corridors, past the workers that have already started on the day's tasks. You have to squeeze through men lugging heavy barrels on their sweat soaked backs, their caps pulled down over their tired eyes. You can feel the men stealing glances at you as you pass and you instinctively pull your ankle length coat closer around you.  

“This here’s Alfie’s office” Ollie pointed to the room you’d sat outside of that first time you’d visited with Tommy. The door was wide open and you could now see Alfie’s big brown desk and cluttered shelves looming in the shadowy space.   

“When the door’s open, feel free to pop your head in. If it’s closed, it’s best to steer clear.” Before you have time to get a better view inside, he carries on walking, making his way just a little further down the corridor and stopping at a room that only just manages to fit a small desk, a filing cabinet and a battered looking floor lamp.

“Cosy” you say as you glance inside at the sorry looking ‘office’, worrying about the lack of natural light and how humid the air feels in your lungs. 

“Well, feel free to make yourself at home. There’s a pile of invoices that need checking there on the desk to get you started. If you need anything, just give me a shout, I’m always around somewhere.” With that, Ollie flashes you a sheepish smile before he turns on his heel and strides back the way you came. 

Slowly, you step into your new office, placing your bag on the desk next to the papers and looking around at the flaking paint on the walls. There’s dust covering every surface and the light in the corner seems to dim in brightness every now and again, as if it doesn’t have the strength to carry on lighting the endlessly dull room. 

There wasn’t a huge pile of work to look at, so you decide you have a bit of time to take a walk around the warehouse, to get the lay of the land. 

You start to make your way deeper into the belly of the building. There’s not much to look at, mostly barrels stacked on more barrels. Every now and again you come across a worker hidden in the dark, sweeping, lifting or moving trolleys back and forth.

Before long, you reach some large double doors. They’re open just a crack and you can faintly make out a shadowy figure sitting in the almost empty room. You move in closer to get a better look and reach out a delicate hand, placing it on the heavy wooden door and push it open with a soft creak. 

Finally, the hunched figure in the middle of the room comes into view, it’s Alfie, sat contemplatively in a rickety wooden chair, his large hands in his lap and his eyes closed. You falter for a second, wondering if you should just leave him to it, but just as you are about to turn and head back, he acknowledges your presence. 

“My little cousin was born blind...”     

The sound of his deep voice cutting through the silence makes you jump.

“As a result, I now donate a considerable sum of money to a charity, which gives dogs with eyes to blind Jews.” He shifts slightly in his chair making it squeak in protest under his hulking figure. 

“The chairman of the board recommends that those of us who were blessed with the gift of sight, spend at least half an hour a day with our eyes closed so that we may better understand the darkness, and also, to increase our donations and that.”

You inch closer, moving to stand directly in front of him. You can see his face clearly now, he’s actually quite handsome considering he first appears a bit rough around the edges. His beard is golden and neatly trimmed, with a thin white scar cutting through the right hand side of his face and his hair is uncombed and slicked down with sweat. 

There’s a faint smell of rum, fire and freshly baked bread coming off him in waves. It makes you feel unnervingly calm and starts to tease away the knots that had previously sat uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but think about those exotic plants you’d read about, that draw their prey in with delicious smells, only to clamp down around them when they were close enough and swallow them whole.  

“What time is it?”

You snap out of your thoughts and glance around the room looking for a clock, but there was nothing but bricks and barrels. 

“I’ve no idea, I think it’s...” 

As you reply, you watch as his hand lightly pulls on a thin silver chain and a pocket watch pops out of the front flap of his waistcoat. He brushes his coarse fingertips lightly over the smooth steel of the antique trinket, before turning it to face the direction of your voice. 

“Ere you go, what time is it?”

You step a little closer and bend your head low to read the hands. 

“Twenty-five past nine” 

“Right, five minutes left. What can I help you with love? Are you lost? Did Ollie show you your little office?” 

You roll your eyes at Alfie’s description of your work space. The use of the word ‘little’ makes it sound like you are a child playing worker while the grown ups do the real work in the ‘big boy’ offices. 

“Actually I was just having a look around when I stumbled on your little meditation session” You make sure to stress the word ‘little’, passive aggression is your strong suit. He seems to ignore it and continue as though you’d said nothing at all and this just irks you even further.

“I think there’s another chair over there. Go have a look and take a seat.” 

You follow the direction of his flippant hand gesture and see the chair in question, propped up against the wall. Dragging it over screeching the legs on the concrete floor, you set it down a small distance in front of Alfie and take your place. 

“I like to make sure to spend these moments thinking about the bigger things… it also means I get a bit of peace and quiet from people asking me stupid fucking questions. Do you believe in god?”

The question seemed to come out of the blue and it takes you a second to process what he just said. 

“...No Mr Solomons, I don’t. It’s a hard concept to grasp when you’re involved in this kind of life, surrounded by these kinds of people.”

“Call me Alfie. Well I don’t blame you, but I’m telling you Y/N, believing in something bigger than yourself can be a saviour in the darkest of times. How long have I got left?”

You notice he doesn’t lift the watch up for you like the last time, the silver timepiece just sits loosely in his open palm lying on his lap. Hesitantly you reach forward and carefully lift the watch up to face you. He doesn’t flinch at your presence or the weight of the watch being lifted from his hand, as if he had hoped you would close the distance on your own terms.  

“Twenty-eight past nine, two minutes left.” You lean forward again placing the watch back where you found it, again he doesn’t move. 

“I never said I didn’t believe in something bigger than myself Mr Solom… Alfie, I just don’t like the idea that there is a man up in the clouds watching my every move. I like to be in control of my own decisions, of my own life and the direction I take it.” 

“Hmmm. How’d you end up ‘ere then? Did you make your own decisions this time around? How’s that workin out for you?”

He had you there, you in fact did not make the final decision to come here, it had been made for you… by a man who apparently had more control over your life than you had originally thought. Of course you couldn’t admit this to Alfie. 

“Actually I did make the decision to come here. I needed a change of scenery, so here I am. Is that a problem for you Mr Solomons?”

“Not at all love. But forgive me if I’m not entirely convinced of your exhilaration at being ‘ere with us. Look let’s stop fuckin about and address the elephant in the room, I don’t want to have to keep an eye on you every second you're here...” 

Alfie leans forward in his chair, his eyes still tightly shut, elbows resting on the dirty linen of his knees and clasping his hands in front of him, his many bracelets jangling together as he did. You didn’t feel yourself do it, but you realise you’ve started to lean back in your chair. 

“As a businessman, I get Tommy Shelby’s reasoning behind your presence here I really do, but as someone that is not an absolute fucking idiot, I am fully aware that this is not a place for a woman of your… standing.”

It was like he’d said a code word that set your blood boiling. You hated people telling you where you were and weren’t meant to be. It was like you were naive and had no idea the dangers that lay around every corner for someone like you. You were a woman that had been through a lot, been a part of many different societies and social classes. You were more than aware of what could happen if you took a wrong turn or said the wrong thing in front of these types of men. 

“Forgive me Alfie...” you stressed his name between gritted teeth.

“But I’m perfectly aware of the environment I find myself in. Thank you for your concern, but I don’t need you to watch me like a child.” 

You try to stay conscious of the tone and volume of your voice. It wouldn’t be a good idea to start cussing out your gangster boss on your first day. 

“Hmmm. What time is it?” This time he showed you the watch again as he leaned back in his chair, creating more distance between you and causing you to have to scootch forward on your seat to be able to see the time clearly. To your surprise, Alfie hands you the watch to hold.

“You’ve got 10, 9, 8...” 

As you count down, you notice the watch chain start to release tension. Alfie had started to move gradually towards you once again. You try to ignore the warmth of his body getting closer and closer. 

“7, 6, 5, 4...” 

He was so close now you can feel the light caress of his breath on your face. Your brain is telling you to move back a bit, but your body refuses to budge. 

“3,2,1”

Right on cue Alfie opens his dark blue eyes and you feel like your body has turned to stone right there in that chipped wooden chair.  

“Right then… hello”

[mochiyoonfi]

Soulmate (JK)

Synopsis: You’re the only one who can see Jungkook. He’s like a ghost really, but he says he isn’t, because this is his life, and he hadn’t died before. 

Universe: Invisible!au

Pairings: Really slight Yoongi x reader. No romance between JK and Reader.

Warnings: Angst, Slight Fluff. 

Word Count: 2.8k

-♦-

“Just leave him. You guys aren’t a very good match anyway.” 

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, not surprised by how easily he said life changing decisions. “Jungkook if I leave him all his friends will hate me.” “So what?” “His friends are my friends.” You sighed. He raised a dark eyebrow in questioning. “Who cares? Honestly, if they hate you for breaking up with him, then they’re not good friends anyway.” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I’m the only friend you need anyway.” You sighed, burying your face in your pillow. “But Jungkook you aren't…” You instantly stopped yourself. But Jungkook had already noticed.

“I'm not what?” “Real.” You looked over at him; your best friend. “You aren’t real.”

-♦-

“Can’t you get a new job? This ones so boring…” You ignored him, continuing to walk along the pavement, making sure your heels wouldn't catch in the stone. “It’s just not fun! I get boreeed, and I know you do too!” Jungkook whined, floating behind you, a few feet in the air. He didn't quit his complaining, even though it had become a regular argument between the two of you. “It’s not even your dream job.” “I can't even remember what my dream job was.” You replied. Then, realising the pedestrians around you were casting weird glances, and you hurried your pace. When you reached your apartment you wrenched the door open. “Jungkook get in here!” You snapped. He sadly drifted in. “I’m sorry Y/n.” “Didn't I tell you not to ask questions in public? I’m going to end up being taken to a mental asylum.” “I don't see the problem.” Jungkook complained. “We used to talk all the time in public and mom and dad thought it was cute.” “That’s because when you’re younger, having an imaginary friend is okay. When you're older, it means you're insane.” Jungkook sadly floated down a bit from his position. “But I’m not imaginary. You know that right, Y/n?” “I’ve doubted myself before.” You replied, not looking at him as you didn't want to get trapped in his big doe eyes. “Recently too…” He floated in front of you, eyes wide in concern, lip trembling. “Y-you don't think I’m real?” You looked down at the ground, instead of answering, moving through his translucent body towards your room. He followed you. “Y/n! Answer me!”

“Stay out Jungkook. I’m changing.”

He sunk to the floor, hovering halfway through as he couldn’t touch it. 

Did Y/n really think he didn’t exist? Was she just joking? Would she try and get rid of him?

“Okay Jungkook come in.” 

He bolted in straight away as soon as the last word left your lips, floating in front of you, a startled and upset look contorting his normally handsome face. “Y/n-”

“Jungkook I think you’re real. I don’t think you’re imaginary.” You sighed, turning away from him, tugging your long sleeves over your hands nervously. “But Jungkook, have you ever tried to like, leave me? How did we even end up together?” 

He looked away. “My earliest memory is a clear grey sky, cotton candy clouds lining the sky. I turned, walking down a clear street, the whole world monochrome. Then I saw a house, yellow, bright and begging for my attention. I went to open the door, only to find that I couldn’t physically touch it. “I resorted to wafting through it instead, like some sort of ghost or spirit. I drifted into the house, floating up the stairs until I reached a room. There was a woman and a man inside, sitting on the couch and watching TV. I asked if they knew who I was, but they never responded. I went to the room next to it, and the boy inside also didn’t respond to me. The only other room with a person in it was a room with a girl, about my age, lying on a bed. I went up to her and said-”

“Sorry to bother you, but why are you crying?” You finished, memories you had thought buried in your subconscious resurfacing. “Yeah. And you were crying because no one at your new school liked you.” You looked down, tears welling in your eyes. Jungkook had been with you through the worst moments of your life, encouraging you to keep going when you wanted to give up. But you had still doubted yourself if he was real.

“Honestly Y/n, does it matter if I’m real or not?”

You looked up, wiping the glistening tears from your eyes. “W-what?”

He smiled and drifted closer, eyes smiling as he reached his hand out, a wasted effort it may seem as it went straight through you per normal, but you felt the support waste over you either way. “If I’m not real, it doesn’t matter. We can still be friends if I’m imaginary. Which I’m not.”

You smiled sadly as you pulled your blankets over your head. “Where do you go when I sleep Jungkook? Can you sleep?” “I sleep in the air next to you.” He replied, floating horizontally in a relaxed position as you peeked out from under your covers. “I can sleep too. I sometimes float out of the house to look at the stars though.” “Why?” “Because there are more people in the world then there are stars that I can see from the roof.” His doe eyes focused on you, boring into your soul. “And with so many people, somehow, I managed to find you.” As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but sniffle to yourself, thinking of how you had dared to doubt Jungkook’s existence. 

-♦-

“So what about that blind date?”

You rolled your eyes, now your signature move, at your coworker. She had been wanting to get you to go out with her friend since when you’d started working there. ‘You’re just his type!’ She’d always say. You just laughed and kept working. ‘He’s really good looking!’ This made you hesitate for a second, then you mentally kicked yourself. There’s more to people than looks, idiot. 

“You can’t spend the rest of your life alone!” This one was just too desperate, and you shot her a sympathetic look. Her brother must be really lonely, or his family was really desperate. 

“I give up!” It had been a year since you began working part time at the shop when she finally said this to you. You raised an eyebrow, suspicious that this stubborn girl had finally given up. “He’s just a really nice guy and you’re his type, even though he would never admit it. He’s going away to college soon anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” 

You finally looked up, taking off your cap to place it in your locker, hair messy from a day's work. “Collage? For what?” 

“He wants to be a psychiatrist. Or maybe it was a councillor?” She threw her hat in her own locker. “Doesn’t matter does it?”

Your mind raced. “Actually, I want to meet him.”

Her eyes widened and she lunged at you, making you flinch from shock, thinking she was about to slap you. However, she just grabbed your shoulders, staring straight into your eyes. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Yeah.” 

She silently screamed, jumping up and down in excitement. “After a whole year? Really?! Whatever, I’m so happy!” 

You rolled your eyes. “K.” 

She frowned, suddenly sceptical. “Why so suddenly?” 

You shrugged, trying to avoid giving any way to your real reason. “I dunno. Maybe hearing that he’s going to college made me realise I’m getting old?” 

She laughed and turned back to continue fixing her now wild hair. “You aren’t old. Only 19 right?” When you nodded she scoffed non too quietly. “I’m 22 this year. All my mother ever asks is when I shall find a husband. Or a wife. She doesn’t care either way, as long as I’m married.” 

“How old is he?” You asked. 

She rolled her eyes back at you, sticking her tongue out as she did so. “Did you ever hear me speak to you about him? Oh well. He’s 23 this year.” 

“Five year age gap?” 

“It isn’t too large. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be crazy for him, he’s pretty attractive.”

You rolled your eyes right back at her. 

“Why are you going on a blind date?” Jungkook complained. “You don’t even know him!” 

You fixed your earrings in place and smoothed down your dress. “It’s for a good reason!”

“Yeah I heard you,” He made a silly face and raised his fingers in bunny quotes. “‘made me realise I’m getting old.’ Screw old age, it doesn’t matter!” 

“That’s cause you’ve always looked good.” You scoffed. 

“What's the real reason?” He pestered. “What's the real reason? What's the real reason? What's the real reason? What's the real reason? What's the real-”

“Fine! It’s just because since he wants to be a psychiatrist maybe he’ll know if I’m crazy.”

Jungkook giggled, floating mid air, his brown curly hair dangling towards the ground. “He’ll think you ARE crazy if you talk about me on the first date!” He put on his biggest smirk. “But I am flattered that you would date someone just to talk more about me.” 

You slipped on a pair of sneakers, not caring to twist your ankles over some boy. “You’re too full of yourself Jungkook. Maybe I give you too much attention.”

He muttered it under his breath as you opened the door to leave, but you still heard him nonetheless. “You’re the only one who can give me attention.” 

-♦-

Your coworker had told you to go to the famous Smelarado Café to meet him, and she said he would be wearing a black long sleeve shirt tucked into jeans with a black bowl cut. ‘Like a grumpy cat’ she described him. 

You skipped down the streets, Jungkook floating close by, ready to finally tell someone about your invisible friend. Then you saw him. A lean boy with angular eyes such as a tiger's, lips that seemed to frown, but didn’t do so in a cruel way. The warm breeze rustled past you, blowing his hair out of his face, and he turned to look directly at you. He smiled and walked forwards, holding out the bouquet of flowers he held in his hands.

Then he froze. Dead still. He suddenly grabbed your arm, yanking you towards him. He cupped a hand around your ear. 

“There’s a boy.” He hissed.

You turned, trying to work out what he meant. You only saw Jungkook, who was blissfully hovering in mid air. You pressed your own lips against his ear. “Who?”

“The one floating, of course!” The boy gasped, seemingly exasperated. “Who else?!”

Jungkook, Yoongi, who was your blind date, and you sat around a table, silently glancing at each other, readying yourselves for whatever conversation would inevitably happen. Finally, Yoongi spoke. “So he’s a ghost?” “No.” Jungkook said, apparently shy to be finally talking to someone who wasn't you. “This is my only life, and I am not dead, I age too.” “But how come you’re floating? Why aren't you famous or something-” You interrupted. “Only I can see him. And now, apparently you can too.” Yoongi’s mouth dropped open a little, then he closed it, squaring his jaw and nodding solemnly. “I understand.” “Oh thank goodness you can see him.” You finally gasped out, not being able to stay calm and postured any longer. “I thought I was insane!” Jungkook huffed. “Rude.” Yoongi laughed slightly, eyes still wide and expression still slightly that of a frazzled one. “Sorry mate, it’s just so strange.” “I second that.” You agreed. Jungkook finally broke into a smile. “Well, I don't think it’s too common.”

“Aren't you glad that you finally went on a date with me?” Yoongi asked as you smelled the beautiful flowers he had finally handed you. “Well I guess it went even better than expected.” You laughed. He grinned cockily. “Do I meet your standards? In looks, I mean.” You rolled your eyes and he chuckled. “Guess that's a yes.”

“I’m not third wheeling!” Jungkook whined from behind you.

But for the first time since when Jungkook had drifted into your room, you were finally calm. You werent worried your best friend was a brain disease in disguise, and you didn't think you were insane any longer. Another person could see, could hear Jungkook. But in your relief, Jungkook was left trailing behind. Finally put out to pasture, ready to leave him for something new. Something better. 

Jungkook couldn't leave you. Even if he wanted to. When he had first seen you, the monochrome world split into vibrant colour, and his heart lifted in joy. He wasn't sure he could survive without you. More importantly, he didn't want to.

When you got home, you realised Jungkook was happily floating after you, rather he looked as though someone had died. “What's wrong Kookie?” He looked up at you, eyes raw as if he were about to cry. “Y/n… Will you replace me?” Your eyes flew open and you spun to him. “Jungkook?” “I’m serious Y/n! Will you want me gone? Should I just leave now?” You frowned, taking in his frantic, upset face. “Kook-” “No!” He yelled, tears now freely flowing from his eyes. “I don't want to be thrown aside like I don't matter! Just because you can finally speak freely to someone, someone who's real doesn't mean you can just leave me!” “I won't!” He flew forward and you stumbled back, legs falling out from under you and you hit the ground. He reached his hand out to you, the shaking hand passed through your head as he reached for your hair. “How do I know you're telling the truth? I can't even touch you.” You reached up, your hand going through his head as well. “Jungkook. Look at me.” He finally met your eyes, his tears still flowing freely. “You're all I’ve ever needed. You're all I’ll ever need. “Y/n… You can't be sure.”

You frowned. “Jungkook. I don't need anyone else. You're my destiny, my future and my past.” “Do you love me?” “Of course.” He giggled, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. “I mean as a boyfriend.” You quickly shook your head. “No! As a friend.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I didn't wanna give you the wrong idea of what I feel for you.” “No! You're a brother. No you're closer than a brother. You're my soulmate.” He rolled his eyes back at you. “Soulmate? Soulmate? Is it because I'm ‘not real’?” You laughed and stood up as Jungkook floated away from you. “Maybe.” “So when are you meeting up with your boyfriend?” You looked at him, skeptical. Only moments ago this apparent boyfriend had been the cause of Jungkook’s crying. “Do you really want me to meet him again? Should I not?” His doe eyes widened and he shook his head, long hair rustling as he did so. “No, no, no! I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you! I was insecure! He looks like a nice guy, really!” You smiled warmly at him, heart softening. “Thanks Kook.” “If he's mean to you, I’ll-” “You'll what?” You snorted, washing water into your eyes to relieve the tears, grabbing tissues as well. “You'll float through him yelling?” He pouted, eyebrows creasing at your teasing. “Don't be mean Y/n.” Despite his words, he laughed along with you.

-♦-

“Y/n. You look amazing.” You took Yoongi’s extended hand, stepping up to him. Your hair was shining, eyes glistening, baby blue dress swishing around your knee level, ruffles floating like a dolls, a yellow sash tied around your waist, matching your shoes. ‘Thanks Yoongi. You look great as well.” He gestured down to his white suit, blue collared shirt matching your dress, yellow rose in his lapel. “I think we match rather well.” You smiled. “Wanna go in?” “Where's your soulmate?” He asked, looking behind you, searching for the usual presence of Jungkook. “He's taking a break.” Yoongi's eyebrow darted up. “Really?” You nodded. “He wanted to get some more rest time. He's tired today.” Walking down the corridor in silence, Yoongi’s hand gripped yours. “Y/n, did something happen with you two? I know we've only been dating for a few months now, but you can tell me anything.” You looked up at the decorated ceiling. “No. Nothing is wrong. Jungkook.. He might leave me soon.” Yoongi stopped dead in his tracks. “Leaving? Why? Where?” “He wants to try and find more people who can see him. Or maybe even people who are just like him.” “What do you feel about this?” Your eyes misted over. You didn't want to cry though. It wasn't a bad thing. It was good that Jungkook was finally getting to do something by himself, for himself. “I think it's good.” “Won't you miss him?” You laughed. “No. Wherever I go or he goes, it doesn't change the fact that he's my soulmate.” Yoongi looked at you lovingly. “He’ll always be your soulmate?” “Always.”

[liannyeong]

Unfinished #2

Summary: A collection of unfinished fics. The main theme is inequality between the rich and poor, and gender stereotypes, though poorly challenged lol. Also, mechanic!Jaebeom hehe

Word count: 3109

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): Angst

A/N: I had this idea back in 2017, inspired by the song ‘Uptown girl’.

"Hey, Jaebum! Come over here for a minute!"

Jaebum sighs. He stares at the engine longingly, as if it could help him think of the solution to the car. He ran several tests on the vehicle, yet he seemed not be able to get the engine to function normally.

"Hey Jaebum!" Mark shouts from across the workshop again.

"Just a moment!" Jaebum yells back. Jaebum slams the hood shut and pulls out a cloth from his back pocket. He wipes his greasy hands and arms as he approaches the red-haired male. Mark has his crimson hair slicked back, the sleeves of his blue uniform rolled above his elbows. For a mechanic, he's probably the most scrawny person ever, but no one knows better than to mess around with him. Anyone who ever gets on his bad side will never look at people his size the same way again.

"Meet the new mechanic!" Mark says cheerfully as he gestures to the person next to him. Jaebum raises his brows at the sight of the new mechanic, before flicking his eyes back at Mark. The older male doesn't seem to get Jaebum's incredulous look. Or even he does, he doesn't show it.

"A girl. Nice," Jaebum spells it out for Mark.

The girl seems to be taken aback from his comment. Her smile previously faltered a little. Her mouth opens to say something but Mark beats her to it. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's just that... A girl... A mechanic... Sounds like a weird combination to me," Jaebum shrugs.

"Why, does my gender bother you?" the girl snaps this time, much to Jaebum's surprise. He stares at the female, wide-eyed, as if she just did something miraculous in front of him. How dare she speak to him like that? His expression schools into something like annoyance. He folds his arms, leaning in closer. 

"No female works in a place like this."

"Hey, hey," Mark tries to intervene the heated atmosphere, a hand pressed against Jaebum's chest.

"Well then, I'm not like other girls!" Her face turns a little red, and Jaebum cannot help but laugh at her expression. She reminds him of a child who throws a tantrum when he doesn't get a toy he wants.

"Sure," Jaebum's tone lowers as he challenges the female, "let's see if you can stand working here for a week."

Eyebrows furrowed together, her tone sharper, she questions, "Are you looking down on me?"

"Why? Can't handle it?" Jaebum sneers. "Then why don't you go home and cry to your mommy if you're not up for this?" He waves his hand mockingly.

"Alright, that's enough!" Mark bellows, shoving the younger male away with a glare that means "I'll deal with you later". He then turns to the female, bringing her away from Jaebum. Her eyes linger on the black-haired male, her eyes darker and there's a flame behind it that Jaebum reckons as anger. Mark ushers her around the workshop, doing a tour for her.

Jaebum doesn't waste his time and heads back to the car he was working on earlier.

---

"The heck's your problem?" Mark snarls. He keeps his volume low, considering the female is in earshot. From the clinking sounds in the workshop, Jaebum guesses she has already started working on her first vehicle. There's no one else in the workshop apart from the three of them. Jackson, their boss and their friend, was out of town for a little business trip.

"The girl's the problem. She's not fit for the job," Jaebum spits, not bothered if she could hear him.

"How do you know that? You've never seen her work before!"

"She's a girl!" Jaebum growls. The red-haired male was about to argue back but Jaebum gives him no chance. "This is a car workshop, Mark! How is that puny kid gonna handle all the work here? She's probably gonna collapse one day! We're running a business, for goodness' sake! Not some stupid fairytale that has princes saving the princess' ass all the time!"

Mark scoffs. "Seriously? That's your reason? I'm starting to wonder who is the real girl here."

Jaebum rolls his eyes, mumbling curses under his breath. "How the heck did you even get this kid?"

"I didn't. She came to me, bringing a recommendation letter from Jackson."

Jaebum frowns. Jackson sent her? Then it would mean that-

"That just shows how good she is. Don't you think so?" Mark smiles, clapping his shoulder. "Give her a chance. Who knows, you might come around to like her." He winks, and Jaebum raises his arm across his chest as if he's going to hit the older male. The red-haired just laughs, ruffling Jaebum's hair, and walks away.

---

Days and weeks went by and Jaebum still doesn't change his way of treatment towards her. No, it's not that he hates her. In fact, it's their way of interaction. Jaebum has soften towards the female, that's for sure. He teases her a lot, and they do still bicker frequently too, but both of them knows that it's nothing personal. Their friendship was born on bickering and arguments, and it continues to stay that way.

He's no longer skeptical of her abilities for she has proven her expertise. She's able to diagnose the problem and provide the solution quicker than anyone in the workshop. She doesn't have any problems carrying the tires around or any other tools too. If anything, she's the most competent in the job, but Jaebum will never say that aloud.

Mark and Jackson has become more comfortable around her - in fact, way too comfortable - joking around with her. She smiles and laughs a lot around them too. Her laughter rings in the air, not as high pitched as Mark's or as hysterical as Jackson's, but it's there. There's elegance in the way she laughs, now that Jaebum realizes, and there's elegance in the way she moves and acts. While the girls in the neighborhood laughs normally, she doesn't. She has a hand over her mouth as she laughs. It's as if it's a sin if she were to show her mouth as she laughs. Jaebum finds it weird, but he decides not to care anyway. Besides, why the hell is he even paying so much attention on her?

"You like her, don't you?" Mark said one day, cheek resting against his palm, as he watched the black-haired does his work.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Jaebum questioned back, annoyance evident in his tone.

"I see the way you look at her. It's obvious, Jaebum." A knowing grin plastered on the older male's face, and Jaebum wanted nothing but to scrub it away.

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me," the red-haired said as he patted his chest. He sent the younger a wink, to which Jaebum rolled his eyes and threw a dirty and greasy cloth at his face. Mark only laughed as he threw it back.

"Jaebum! Let's have dinner at the diner after this!" Mark yells from the other side of the workshop, breaking Jaebum from his reverie.  His mind snaps back to reality and Jackson's screeching laughter finally flows into his ears. His eyes float from Mark to Jackson, who is playfully joking around with her. It's as if Jackson is just a child in the workshop, not the boss. Her lips are curled up into a huge smile, her eyes crinkling into crescents and Jaebum feels both warmth and a twinge in his heart. Jaebum's eyes fleet back to Mark, who already has a knowing look on his face. Jaebum ignores it, holding up an 'okay' sign and nothing more.

---

Jaebum hears her name being called by a voice rather deep yet calming and soft. He looks up to see a male standing over at their table, eyes blinking at the female. He's tall and lean, black shirt tucked into his denim jeans. His hair is carded back and a pair of glasses is perched on the bridge of his nose. 

"J-Jinyoung!" she stutters, and Jaebum's attention is directed to her. Jaebum is seated across her, and he notices the stiff on her shoulders. Her face is so red, eyes blown wide at the sight of the stranger. "W-what are you doing here?"

Amused, the stranger named Jinyoung softly chuckles. "Eating dinner, of course," he says as he lifts his food tray a little.

"D-dinner?" she echoes. Jaebum notices how cautious and wary she is now with the sudden presence of the stranger. Why is she so flustered? Who is this Jinyoung anyway? Why does his presence affect her so much? Does she... like him?

She stretches her neck and looks around the diner, as if searching for something - or someone. What is she so scared about?

Jinyoung must have noticed this behavior too, for he says, "I'm alone." It's evident how relief washed over her: her body relaxes, her shoulders slumped downwards, and the dusty pink cheeks drained. 

"I see," she lets out at last. 

"Join us, then," Jackson cheerfully suggests to the stranger. If Jaebum could, he would love to kick his boss in the guts. Why should they let a stranger join their dinner table? He knows Jackson is a social butterfly, that bulky man loves creating new connections but why involve him? 

"That's really nice-"

"No!" she interjects midway into Jinyoung's sentence, much to Jaebum's surprise. There's a hint of agitation in her tone, and Jaebum wonders just what kind of secret is she holding from them. Why else would she insist so badly that Jinyoung shouldn't join them? Of course, Jaebum is more than happy with that decision. But her behavior around this Jinyoung intrigues him. What's truly happening? Why is she like this? What is she desperately trying to hide away from them? "I need to talk to Jinyoung, actually," she says, grabbing the said male's arm and forcing him to move. She has never been a touchy person. To see that moment of skin contact surprises Jaebum beyond words. "I'll join back later!"

As Jinyoung leads them to his table, Jaebum just watches the duo with hawk eyes. She doesn't even let go of his arm until they reached the table at the far corner of the diner. Such a shady corner where couples would always be seen making out as if they are invisible. Disgusting, really, but Jaebum desperately hopes they don't do anything like that. That they aren't anything like that.

So Jaebum ends up glancing at the two from time to time. They're deep in conversation, and she doesn't even look back at them once, despite Jackson's hysterical laughter and Mark's high-pitched one. Just what's so important that makes her attention to be fully focused on him only? It's like they are in their own world, tuned out from the rest of the world.

Both Jinyoung and her stands up and the male just smiles at her warmly. Jaebum wonders if she likes that Jinyoung. After all, he is handsome. And that air of elegance around him, there's some class attached to him. He seems like a nice guy too, a gentleman too. Jaebum wonders if she's attracted to men like that. And for once, the anger surge within him once more. Why is he even like this?

The two part ways, the male leaving the diner while she heads back to their table.

"Who was that?" Jackson asks when the female takes the empty seat next to him.

"Just a friend," she answers as she grabs her abandoned glass, pouring soda into it. The drink sizzles. Jaebum watches as the air bubble rises from the bottom to the top, which then pops. 

"Just a friend?" Mark echoes, curiosity in his face.

"Actually, he's a neighbor," she answers. "We grew up together, that's all."

Then why was she so eager to talk to him? She could have waited till they reach home. Jaebum wonders, questions burning in his head. He doesn't speak them out. Instead, he clenches his fingers around his glass. Why is she so secretive? So... unreachable?

That's when it struck Jaebum hard. She has always been far away. That same elegance, he has it too. His aura has never been the same like the others in the neighborhood. Just as she does, he laughs with his hand clasp over his mouth. Just as she does, he has the same prim and proper attitude. They're so similar, and Jaebum just can't work it out in his head. How can they be so similar? Yet so different from the people around him? Different from him? And it dawns on Jaebum. That thought irks him.

Mark nudges his elbow, nodding at his fingers around his glass. Jaebum follows his gaze and stares at his white knuckles. He didn't even realize how hard he was clenching around his glass. He loosens his grip, but picks the glass up and gulps down the contents. For the rest of the night, Jaebum pretends that everything's fine, even though his heart feels restless.

---

"Jaebum, are you okay?" she asks, drawing his attention from his thoughts. Suddenly, the air feels heavy and tense, as if it weighs on his shoulder. Jaebum just nods, making sure his gaze is straight ahead and not on her face. He doesn't know why he does so, but he just couldn't stand looking at her these days. His fingers fiddles with his mug, hoping that she leaves the pantry soon. 

But of course she doesn't.

"Are you sure everything is okay?" she asks once more, slipping onto the empty space on the couch. "You're not sick or anything?" Her face is so close to his, and Jaebum can't help but suck in his breath. At the close proximity, he notices how her skin seems soft, almost flawless despite working at the mechanics. Her lashes are long and curled upwards prettily. Jaebum's heart beats faster, his body burns up, his palms turn sweaty, and suddenly he's so conscious of everything. 

Even though she has been working with them for half a year already, only now did Jaebum finally realize.

He has fallen for her.

No wonder he's always annoyed whenever there are guys around her. No wonder he gets mad when she smiles at other guys. He's jealous. That's why he dislikes the idea of other guys getting too close to her. That he dislikes the idea that other guys can see her adorable smiles. That he detests the idea that she's not his. That she might fall for other guys. Guys who are more capable than him. Guys who are smarter. More handsome. Wealthier. Guys like Jinyoung.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he spits, disdain on his tone. It's more of a lie that he wants to believe in. That he didn't just realized his newfound feelings. That he didn't just fallen for the mechanic girl that he dislikes so much. Damn, Mark will laugh at him.

"Are you sure?" she repeats her question. "Look, if I did anything wrong, will you please tell me?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why won't you look at me in the eye?"

Well, shit. Jaebum inhales sharply. He pretends he doesn't hear her. He stands up, dumps his mug into the sink and exits the pantry. He hears her calling after him, but he ignores her. He heads over to the car he's supposed to work on, trying his best to tune the girl's voice out. But the said girl storms over to where he's working, questioning him once more. "What's wrong, Jaebum? Tell me if I did anything wrong!" She has been so insistent that it pushes him to his limits. She slams his toolkit shut. A wrong move.

Irate, Jaebum shoves her away. "Can you back off? I'm trying to do my job here!" Jaebum feels a pang of guilt in his chest, seeing the mixture of hurt and shock across her face. Jaebum has never been so rough at her, despite their usual bickers. Jaebum has always been careful not to touch the female no matter how much she gets on his nerves back then. But this was the first. And rough too.

"What the hell?" is what she spits a moment later.

"Just leave me alone. I've got work to do," Jaebum utters coldly, turning his back on the female.

"Yeah, sure, but you needn't shove me away like that! What's wrong with you?"

Jaebum slams his hands onto the rim of the car hood. He turns on his heels to face the female once more. "What's wrong with me?" he echoes as he stomps forward, only stopping when he's a few inches away from her face. Jabbing a finger onto her chest, he shouts, "What's wrong with you? Why the hell do you even work here?"

"What are you-"

"You're an uptown girl, aren't you?" Jaebum spits. The way her eyes dilate tells him that it's the truth. Before she can even utter another word, he adds, "That guy back there. He's an uptown guy too, isn't he?"

"So what?" she snaps, after she musters the courage.

Jaebum sneers. "Why don't you just stay at your mansion and be a pretty girl and let those filthy rich bastards woo you? Why the heck do you have to come here? Are you turning us into a joke that you can tell to your whiny friends back there?"

"What the hell?! You think I would do such thing?!"

"Of course you would! You're an uptown girl! You're a spoiled brat who gets everything your way! People like you disgust me the most! People like you are the ones I hate the most!" Jaebum hurls those words at her without a second thought. His chest heaves, and as much as he feels satisfied for spitting such words to her, regret slowly blooms in his chest. But he decides to pay no attention to it.

"How could you- Even after all this while, you still think I'm that kind of person?!" she screams back. Jaebum sees how her eyes turn moist and her face turns scarlet red. By now, Mark and Jackson have rushed over to them, pulling them away from one another. "You know nothing about me! But fine! Since I disgust you the most, I'll leave! I'll freaking leave and disappear from your sight forever!" she yells. She pushes Jackson out of her way and bolts away into the direction to the locker room.

"Leave then! As if I care!" Jaebum shouts after her.

Mark grabs his collar, eyebrows furrowed in anger. "What the hell are you doing?" 

[rwby-grimm-guardians]

RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 3: Separated Union Ch 10

Side White III: Realizations

Happy New Year, y’all. Fuck, I hope 2021 is better….

Welcome back to Separated Union! Here’s Side White III and here, Weiss FINALLY speaks her mind. Also, Ruby texts her. Meanwhile, Winter realizes how bad things are TRULY getting...and takes action.

As usual, please give constructive criticism and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

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(7:41 PM)

“Something’s on your mind.” Willow said, combing her daughter’s hair after she showered. Weiss sighed, “That obvious, huh?” The former heiress chuckled, “A little. You know you can tell me.” The teenager sighed. She knew that she could be open with her mother about what was going through her mind right now. Weiss was...scared about the possible reactions, however. What she wanted right now was not what anyone would expect. That she was sure of.

“I hate it here.” The teenager said. The woman nodded in agreement, “Not pleased with your father’s recent development either, huh?” Weiss shook her head, “He’s attempting to control me. He already has corrupted Whitley.” She could feel her mother tense up, before noticing her gripping the comb harshly. “I’m going to kill that bastard for what he did to your brother…” Willow whispered, unaware that her daughter heard her. Weiss wisely decided to not ask her mother questions on that statement.

“In any case, we should probably leave and live somewhere else for the time being.” Her mother said. The teenager sighed, “I don’t know if that’s the right decision to make. What if we get into more danger because of that?” Willow looked at her, raising an eyebrow, “Does your worry have to do with what happened with Klein today?” The heiress paused, before nodding with a quiet “Yeah”.

Klein was...at the receiving end of Jacques’s fury today. While he was not harmed, he was certainly threatened of 1: being forced out of the building and 2: being placed in prison under false charges. And Willow had never been so furious at her husband after what happened to the butler. Weiss, on the other hand, had never been so scared of her own father. “I really think we should leave.” Her mother said, snapping her daughter out of her thoughts. “And try and get Whitley and Klein out as well.”

Weiss tilted her head up to look at Willow, “How do we know that he won’t find us?” The woman sighed, “We don’t… But you CAN alert Winter of what happened and try to do something.” “I guess…” The teenager said, knowing that the connection to Winter’s phone would most likely be secure, due to the kind of person she was. “I’ll text her after I get ready for bed.” Her mother hummed with a nod, continuing to comb the teenager’s hair, before finishing and putting the comb away.

Weiss then heard a ding, before noticing a text from Ruby on her scroll. Willow raised an eyebrow as she looked over her daughter’s shoulder, “Is Ruby okay?” The possibility of her partner being in danger was very real as the teenager opened the text in minor panic. She soon sighed with relief as she read the text, which said, “Hey~. ^^ It’s me. In Mistral right now and thinking about setting up a virtual meeting the day after tomorrow to discuss our future plans. Does 12:40 sound good?”

“Well, looks like we’ll be up then...” The heiress said. Willow hummed with a chuckle, “Say yes. This’ll help us.” Sighing, Weiss did so, before putting the scroll off to the side. “Thank you. I’m going to get ready for bed.” She said. Her mother nodded, before hugging Weiss and kissing her forehead. “Get some rest. It’s been a long day.” The former heiress said, receiving a tired hum from her daughter as she leaned into Willow’s embrace. After a few moments, Weiss then went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

As her daughter began getting ready for bed, Willow got a text on her scroll...from Summer. Opening it, she froze as she felt her heart sink.The text read, “Ruby didn’t tell you, I’m sure. But she’s in the hospital for injuries received from an...old enemy of mine…” The text continued, “Don’t worry. We’re safe. Ruby’s healing well.” The former heiress sighed. “That kid needs help big time….” She whispered.

She hoped that Ruby wouldn’t get into any worse problems. For Weiss’s sake.

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

(At the Atlesian Military Compound...)

(8:44 PM)

To say Winter was having a rough night was an understatement. She just had to deal with a certain brat named Harriet in the Ace Operatives Unit. Thankfully, Marrow was a great deal of help during that fiasco. After giving Ironwood her report on the situation, the silver haired woman immediately went to her room and shower to unwind. She had enough annoyance to deal with for a lifetime. “Gods, I hope Weiss is doing better than me at the moment.” She said, getting undressed and starting the hot water.

After finishing her shower, the eldest Schnee sibling wrapped a towel around her and her hair, before deciding to try and go through some emails. Winter picked up her scroll, only to notice a text from Weiss. She almost immediately began panicking, “Oh gods. Please. PLEASE be okay…” The elder Schnee sister read the text, which said, “Make sure Klein is safe from Father”. She then sighed. While she was glad that her sister was safe and well, she was also worried for Klein’s well-being.

Winter put the scroll down, rubbing her eyes as she thought, ‘Of course, he’d fucking try to go after Klein too…’ She would call Weiss about it tomorrow. Right now, she needed to call the family butler. She quickly dialed the butler’s personal number, before hearing, “Ms. Winter? What are you doing calling so late?” A wave of relief washed over the woman as she heard the butler’s voice. “Nothing. Just making sure you’re safe.” She explained. Winter heard Klein chuckle as he said, “You’re too kind.”

There were a couple moments of silence, before the eldest Schnee sibling asked, “Are you certain you’re alright?” “I’m safe, Ms. Winter. Trust me. I am.” The butler reassured. Winter nodded with a sigh, wiping away any water from her damp hair rolling down her face, “Okay. Weiss asked me to make sure. Could you...please give me updates on your situations?” “I’ll certainly try. I promise.” Klein said.

Winter could hear the smile in his voice. “Sounds good. Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Please stay safe, Ms. Winter.” “You too, Klein.” Winter, before the two said their goodbyes and hung up. The silver haired woman sighed, rubbing her eyes again. It was a little after 9 and she needed to figure out how to stop Jacques. If she was going to protect her siblings, mother, and Klein from her father, then she was going to need help. And not from the military.

The eldest Schnee sibling dialed a number she knew by heart, making sure the call was encrypted as she put the device up to her ear. A familiar female voice came from the speaker, “Winter? What are you doing calling so late?” “I need help, Robyn.” Winter said. “What’s going on?” The Happy Huntress leader asked, concerned. Winter raked her fingers through her damp hair, “I need to search for any info regarding my father.” The light blonde woman raised an eyebrow, “In general or…?”

“In any sense. He’s...going far off the rails now.” The silver haired woman answered. A hum was heard from Robyn, “Gotcha. I’ll see what I can do starting tomorrow.” Winter sighed in relief, “Thank you. Don’t tell this to anyone but me.” “I’m assuming you can’t trust the military with this.” Robyn stated. Winter groaned, sitting on her bed, “Not with my father and Ironwood currently being buddy-buddy.” The light blonde woman hummed, “Gotcha. I’ll try to keep this quiet.”

“Thank you.” The silver haired woman said. After a few moments of silence, she finally sighed, “I miss you.” “You too, hun. I’m sure you had a rough night.” Robyn hummed. “Get some rest. And please stay safe, okay?” Winter nodded, “You too. Ich liebe dich.” The light blonde woman chuckled, “Love you too. Good night.” “Night.” The silver haired woman said, before hanging up. Putting her scroll on the bedside table, she removed her towels, changing into her undergarments before laying down with a sigh.

“We’re never going to be free of this bullshit, are we?” She asked herself. While Winter wasn’t that big of a believer, she prayed that she would be wrong. That SOMEHOW...things would get better.

Sometimes life is a train wreck, unfortunately.

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This was a REALLY hard one for me to do. Then again, I was also busy with holidays.

YES, I LOW-KEY SHIP WINTER AND ROBYN.

But it’s done. Side White is finished. Next is Side Black III and Blake and Gambol reunite with their parents.

[druid-for-hire]

UNSWAYED PT. III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

this one’s got some revisions/retcons/refinings and new content. there will be some minor rehashing. this edition is more on the drama eurydice goes through on the path to find orpheus, orpheus’ deterioration in the Beyond, little bit of persephone and even littler bit hermes, finding orpheus, and finally getting to leave

thank you @supercantaloupe, @sonyalone, @unholy-boi, @s-aint-elmo, @ferretteeth for helping author this & help out w ideas and all!! sasha, u esp.

ok.

sits down and rests my old creaking bones in a rocking chair by the hearth and lights a pipe

gather round kids. this one might be a little long

one note: 

on the same night that orpheus falls, persephone, when she finally composes herself enough, marches up to hades. the fury is still present in the vitriol with which she speaks. “you can’t have done that,” she says. “you can’t have just thrown him away. he didn’t sign any papers. you can’t make him work.” 

 “there were no papers,” he agrees, “but prisoners do not get papers.”

ok jumping back to kind-of-present

it’s taking a while to find orpheus. (too much of a while)

in between work and searching for him, both of which already take up so much of her time, eurydice... makes her attempts to craft a new guitar. hades took orpheus’. he’s going to either want it back or want a new one, and right now, she doesn’t think she can manage the first. it’s going to be important to their escape, she thinks, because she isn’t planning on staying in hadestown forever

but she’s not skilled, and making a real, good, balanced guitar is incredibly hard. she’s not trained. it never comes out good enough, never remotely close to a properly tuned instrument, much less the guitar that seemed to fit perfectly around orpheus' hands. and she doesn’t have a lot of time

so as it turns out, stealing back the original is the more feasible option

problem being: it’s a trophy. hades didn’t smash it, but it’s locked away with his other little “victories,” and he’ll notice it missing eventually

(those other trophies are other relics from other daring humans he’s had to deal with in the past. no one has come as close as orpheus)

but she does have more buffer time than usual because it's also a reminder of the martyr and the fact that his marriage is in the shitter so it's been put out of sight (and out of mind), so she's got a few days or more before he'd notice it's gone

as she keeps searching for orpheus, telling her story and getting help and word of her spreading...

eurydice stirs the town as the ladle stirs in the pot; out of all the feelings her story wakes, the most dominant—and most important—is the anger.

and for the first time, somewhere in some could-be-anywhere part of Hadestown, someone says no.

the age-old, unmoving, immovable hadestown, begins to... change. there’s persephone’s crack in the wall, and then there are others, and then they join, and then there’s unrest, and then there’s the threat of riot.

(which i know i already established but shhh im reiterating my point for this:)

unholy-boi: hades was at least formerly hands on enough to give orders, to scrape down new souls, to preach about the wall

now he locks himself in his office, head in his hands, unable to handle the idea that he’s losing control, and every MOMENT he spends locked away he loses control more, but he needs to think, he needs to think, he needs to think--

The fates are at his door, they sing horrible music, things he doesn’t want to hear, lies and twisted truths to manipulate the king. except he’s not being manipulated at all. this is all him, he knows it--this is just him and his paranoia and the workers' rage beginning to boil on his doorstep.

the god is hidden away in his office and hardly lets anyone in. he isolates himself and Persephone barely even visits this winter anyway.

he wonders if the martyr boy really did fail.

(no, he tells himself--he did fail, because his goal was to get him and his lover out, and now both of them are damned here forever. all of this? an unfortunate side effect.)

hades... was very nearly swayed by orpheus, but took his “obligation” to a city (that he’s already lost) over the slightly breaking voice of orpheus, and the rumors. however when he sent orpheus away, things only got worse. but how could he just crawl to pull orpheus back now? would that not be sacrificing his iron will? his grip of steel? how can he turn to go back if he’s already made his decision? moreover- how can he trust bringing orpheus back will fix anything at all?

a lamenting reprise from hades with orpheus’ guitar would be cool. i don’t know if it’d be in character or appropriate to the story but. its been a fun thing ive been tossing between my hands

it probably starts when he accidentally kicks it over--there’s a trophy room, but he hasn’t cleared a space for the guitar yet. he kicks it over, and when it hits the ground the strings hum Menacingly at him

after the song he puts it away--out of sight, out of mind

show them a crack.

and they’ll tear down the wall.

besides the immediate danger orpheus is in and his voice failing being drives to find him as soon as possible, eurydice also has to worry about the fact that persephone won’t be there to help her soon. the hadestown debacle happens on the onset of proper spring

persephone, for once, is grateful that hades keeps her late. it means she can help the lovers. for so many weeks she sends  that boy’s voice on a wind straight for Eurydice to keep her going

but later is not never, and to the surface one day she goes, and bitter with the absence of his wife Hades drives them all to work harder

which strains Eurydice for time and energy even more

things are harder when she’s gone, as always—eurydice has less time to track him down, and without persephone’s sing-sing wind, pinpointing him is more difficult. 

Hermes is there at the station to greets her when she returns to end the winter

“how is he doing?” “not well.”

“you think they’ll make it?” “i don’t know.”

hermes asks her, “how long?” how long will orpheus last? how long will it take for them to find each other and leave? how long will it take until hades finally snaps? persephone can’t answer any of them

(hermes knows, of course. but he has a role to play)

the summer roars to life on top, but persephone can’t stop thinking about the lovers underground. she knows that orpheus won’t make it through the summer. she sneaks down below for two weeks in june and in that time, a hurricane devastates the surface without her to control it.

the sing-sing wind returns with a straining melody and eurydice wonders. she’s grateful, but she wonders

and... one day it doesn’t. she feels the breeze, but there’s nothing on it.

nothing.

i’ve fucking had enough, eurydice decides. i’m stealing that fucking guitar, hades be damned.

in the sleeping hours of hadestown she sneaks her way up to the palace, dodging searchlights and finding havens, already at an advantage because she’s scoured Hadestown so long and made allies in so many places

and when she makes it up to the palace, the... the guards, the hounds, all of them are... either missing or intoxicated to shit. which is odd, she thinks, but doesn’t question it

she makes it to the trophy room (after a Lot of searching, because she doesn’t have a map)

she walks in and marvels in awe at all the trophies

she wonders about the histories behind all of them

to be honest, she doesnt know that this is where the guitar is, but it’s a pretty good guess (and the right one)

and then there’s a sound at the doorway. eurydice freezes. there’s nowhere for her to hide

she turns, and... it’s persephone in the doorway. persephone, who should not be here.

they lock eyes for a moment, and then she points at a locked case in the back of the room and keeps on walking. whistling loudly. a very “nope, nothing here at all” move

... well, works for her

eurydice breaks off the padlock, gets the guitar, and flees

musing on kampê for unswayed because i really dont want her to just be a two dimensional villain: 

- homegirl is bitter. she used to rule the underground. she was the queen of the dark, and every god and titan knew her name, and hades did fear her too. 

until. well. 

and now she’s practically half-forgotten—a footnote. she hates it. hades and persephone are both her younger and yet they came into her realm, and she was shunted aside to this dismal little hole, and she has to answer to him and she fucking hates it. no mortal up Top or even in hadestown remembers her name. if an old dragon like her has no place out there... if she can’t make herself known in the outside world anymore, then she’ll fucking sear herself into the minds of the people she has, in the only way she knows how

(it should also be noted that homegirl is. unstable. i think kampê sort of violently switches between abhorrently vicious to weirdly sweet and manipulative and anywhere in between depending on the day/time/situation)

(also, she wasn’t always deaf. but being even older than the world, than hades and persephone, things... happen)

also, part of how she keeps everyone here is 1) working them to death and 2) telling them that they’re needed here, and that hadestown is an oasis of stability outside the chaos up Top

orpheus is not doing well.

orpheus forgets.

orpheus wears down.

(orpheus gets sick.)

whoops! That’s An Issue. but still he works, because no one can rest long, and the coal dust and ash and smoke and stifling heat do him zero favors

his focus drifts; he loses track of eurydice, of his songs. the work is first and foremost

you ever get worked so hard and pushed past your physical limit that u get like, spots in your vision and want to throw up? yeah thts orpheus

orpheus doesn’t stop sneaking off every day to the spot at the edge of the Beyond. he doesn’t sing out for help anymore, but... he sits, because he knows that it’s important. this place, where he sang out for a lover he doesn’t remember anymore with songs he no longer has

(cue Flowers but for orpheus, in quiet & faltering breathy lines)

he’s “forgotten a little thing called spring” 

kampê still comes after him to drag him back to work. sometimes it’s wordless; sometimes she yanks him to his feet by the straps of his overalls, sometimes all she needs to do is put a hand on his shoulder and he’ll get up and shuffle back into the mines and smokestacks

other times she asks why he’s still doing this, why he’s still out there. other times she tells him that there’s no need to come out here anymore. he shouldn’t have in the first place. out there--it’s no better than here.

the times when she yells--few and far between, because fetching him is hardly much of a chore anymore--he winces, since it’s not like she has the finest grasp on volume control, being deaf

the scene we see is her sing-speaking some fucked up reprise of hey little songbird, beckoning him to come back and taunting him; i didn’t write this one out but i imagine there’s some fun things to be had with the “vipers and vultures” line

and orpheus sing/saying, in this cracked, hoarse voice, “I wanna lie down forever”

he’s. so tired

(also singing his voice, long since shredded, sorta finally collapses in this one and i don’t imagine him having another sung line after that)

the canary in the coal mine isn’t dead yet but he will be

eurydice goes into overdrive after she steals orpheus’ guitar back

(she strums a few notes on it, and it hums warmly of sunlight in her hands. her chest fills with something indescribable. god, she missed this)

she takes more risks. sneaks out farther and strays out farther. skips out on work, keeps cutting close, nearly gets caught more often than she did before

eventually. finally. finally, she finds him, almost unrecognizable in the crowd masses, but she catches him alone

and she calls out to him, her arm outstretched, “come home with me.”

so i’m going w the “recognize her right away one” and following what i wrote in the first post

BUT: the callback to “come home with me i” with orpheus’ forgetting in “come home with me” “who are you?” is Too Fucking Good and I ended up writing my own lyrics to a “Come Home With Me III”

i’ll post it somewhere. i’d link the google drive link here directly but then tumblr would nerf this post off of the hadestown tag.

 you can play off of that if you want, toy around with it as a sort of small canon divergence to this au, but for the main one i’m rolling with what i already did in the first post... it’s unfinished btw there’s this small section i’m stuck on but i didn’t wanna delay this post anymore for something so minor

eurydice sees how much the beyond has ground him into the dirt—his eyes are sagging and half-lidded, dulled and shadowed and barely focused on her, miserable but too exhausted to feel

she sees this plenty in the ver. w/ Come Home With Me III before he remembers her, and for a moment in the other version before his eyes light up with recognition and suddenly it’s like some of the soot has sloughed off of him with the way his whole face lights up

also she shoves his guitar at him and he’s !! 

it’s. horribly out of tune though. he’s tuning it while they talk a little

but either way: the steam whistle blows, the signal to get back to work, and orpheus is immediately lowkey fearful and trying to get back before kampê catches them

eurydie is completely “oh hell to the fuck no i JUST got you back after MONTHS of searching you are NOT leaving”

orpheus is just afraid of what kampê’ll do if she sees them together, he doesn’t plan on leaving her -- he doesn’t hand her back the guitar, after all

again, kampê isn’t the most stable

then uhhh Whoops they spend too long there and she catches them, a la Papers

cue panic

cue tousling w/ eurydice and somehow getting kampê still enough (probably w pinning) to try and listen to Orpheus and she's just waiting to kick his ass because no music is ever gonna sway her, boy

(the dogs get placated by a few chords plucked out)

he can't sing, but he plays

and the other workers listen, and are moved

they are moved by eurydice's act of coming here after him

by listening to orpheus sing of love

by listening to orpheus forget, and deteriorate 

by having spent months listen to their love last and finally succeed with eurydice's arrival, this stalwart notion of hope

they didn’t ignore it. everybody knows the walls have ears

and they join by accompanying orpheus' song with the heavy metal sounds of the factories

they stomp, they clang, they turn grinding gears that crash and pound, in synchrony 

(where the little wheel squeals and the big wheel groans)

it’s a percussive song that they make

more than a simple tune, a steady beat, more than just the music of machinery

it shakes the entire Beyond with the force of the determination of a thousand weary souls, of the hopeless regaining hope for the first time in centuries

Forced through the percussive force of the entire Beyond, implicit in its rhythm and shake, is the old song. all of this old and rusted metal, all of this harsh machinery, all of it singularly resonant in the notion of la, la la la, la la la 

kampê feels it all through her feet and it rumbles in her chest, it shakes her to her very core and rattles her down to her bones, twists in her gut and forces in her fear and awe, and awe and wonder, and... something else

eurydice feels her loosen under her grip and backs off from pinning her and she still doesn’t move

at some point she lurches forward with her fist raised--orpheus doesn’t stop playing but he does shut his eyes, thinking oh god this is it, and eurydice rushes forward to pull her back

but she just... punches her fist into the ground by his feet

she feels everything not only through her feet but up her arm, more directly to her chest, to her heart, to her head

at last, swayed, feeling far more of something other than fear or anxiety or anger than she ever has in a long time...

she lets them all go

ok ngl there’s some blank spots here. i’m blanking here. idk how to transition

but

it's an entire exodus out from this tiny secluded part of Hadestown

The Great Beyond empties itself out and Kampê is left behind

the move is headed by Orpheus & Eurydice and the mood is very similar to the exodus from Egypt by the jewish folk in the movie Prince of Egypt

including the dark lighting, teal against the warm orange-yellow of their torches (lamps in this case), the wind, the craggy rock, everyone together, overall just the general tone

so during this walk from the Beyond to central hadestown with orpheus & eurydice more or less alone at the front is when Promises happens

it’s. a hell of a lot sadder here, but also a lot softer and more tender

orpheus’ lines are spoken like with Come Home With Me I / II coz he ain’t singin’ anymore. he can’t

and that’s the thing, he can’t sing anymore. 

all those things he said in wedding song, all his promises--that his voice would convince the world to give them everything they need

orpheus... doesn't have that anymore, or at least not nearly as strong, or traditionally lovely as it used to be

his voice was cut into pieces from the nasty shit air in the places he was sent to work

all he has is his guitar, and while he’s good at it, his real strength is in his poetry--it’s his voice and his words that makes the rivers and the trees and birds sing along

the people of the Beyond may have been inspired to percussion by his guitar, but they were more swayed by the notion of their love that was built up over the past few months ever since he got banished

so like. to walk with eurydice and be by her side for as long as he lives, is really all he can really promise her at that point anyway

it's not even that he doesn't have anything and broke the promise that he’d sing them all they needed. he can’t even do that anymore

the voice that charmed her, that said he’d provide for her, is gone

would she love him now, he wonders, if the great poet can no longer sing

and many thanks to @sonyalone for contributing this:

he offers his devotion to her. the only thing he has that’s worth anything, the only thing he can do. and when he does hes so afraid that he'll see in her eyes the understanding disappointment, the pity and "i suppose so" that he fears, but he finally raises his head and he cries because her eyes are shining with joy and love and hope. thats all she ever wanted from him. she just wants to be with him, voice or no, amenities or no, and hes never felt so loved

he weeps, and she weeps--from grief and relief and love--and they hold each other close

sheltering under each other

and they have never been more secure in their love

he walked the whole length of the railroad into hell for her, he survived in the pit for her, she scoured the underworld for him, she came for him and she's keeping him

and the return of all these workers startles everyone in central hadestown and a lot of the work gets stalled out

which, of course, draws hades’ attention.

tune in next time for more on this shit ✌️

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

[sparky-is-spiders]

The Hollyleaf Favoritism AU (Again)

This is my last HFAU post for now, although I will absolutely answer any asks I recieve about it. I wanna go over the Dark Forest Plan, talk about what happened to Onestar, and who the fourth cat is.

I’ma start with th fourth cat thing because there isn’’t much to say about it and I’m lazy.

Also: Part 1 Part 2

The Fourth Cat: The truth is, there is no fourth cat. It doesn’t really fit with the AU and it’s not like it was executed brilliantly in the main series books either. I can’t find any cat who could really qualify that way and I don’t wanna add any (more) contradictions to this AU. The Three save the day with the help of all the other cats. Insert some theme about all cats from all clans, no matter who they are or whether or not they’ve been the subject of any prophecies, being important and invaluable. If I ever writes a fic based on this AU, I really want background characters to shine in it. Not all the heroes are gonna be heroes because of powers or a prophecy, which is the point of both Lionblaze and Ivypools arcs.

Onestar: Onestar sucks. If you like Onestar, this is not the AU for you because he does not have a happy ending here. At all.

Onestar hates the way the other clans see WindClan. He thinks that everybody thinks that WindClan is ThunderClan’s pet and it makes him so angry. It is a rage that he feels in his soul, and he severs his friendship with Firestar because of it.

Onestar is, at the very core of his being, arrogant and egotistical. He is also, however, very scared. He never expected to be leader. He never wanted it and when Tallstar dumps leadership on him he kinda panics. He wants to lean on ThunderClan at first, but when he hears how the other clans mock him for it he swings desperately the other way. He tries to seperate WindClan from ThunderClan influence entirely. He is determined to be the best leader of WIndClan ever but he has no idea how to do that. He is desperate and floundering and it is not going well. His fear, his determination, and his pride are a dangerous combination, and they will be his downfall.

Onestar isn’t a great leader. He encourages his warriors to provoke and antagonize ThunderClan cats. During the first few moons of his leadership, he goes on patrols himself just to bother ThunderClan cats. He’s mean to his warriors and unwilling to listen to them.

“No, we don’t need to ask ThunderClan for herbs, we have plenty.”

“But we’re out of-“

“No.”

During a particularly bad winter (several moons before the return of Hollyleaf/storm), illness sweeps through WindClan. Several warriors die, and everybody is furious with Idiotstar. Because sure, he could have asked ThunderClan (the only clan with a large enough herb supply to trade some away) for help, but that might have hurt his precious ego.

Onestar is, in truth, torn over his decision. He does want to help, but he doesn’t want to appear weak. Going to ThunderClan for help, no matter the reason, seems like weakness to him. And weakness is an invitation for the other clans to attack. His warriors keep pushing him to do so, but that only makes it worse. His determination has bred stubborness, and he digs his claws in. He refuses to be bossed around by cats that should follow his orders. Even Ashfoot can’t get him to listen to her. She’s furious that he would put the lives of his clanmates in danger for the sake of his stupid pride. She confronts him aggressivly, and he refuses to listen. Too late, she realizes that aggression, although justified, was the wrong response, and he won’t listen to her even after she tries to be gentler about it. (She hates being gentle about it. It’s like her leader is a stupid kit who throws temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way.) Several WindClanners end up dead, and this is when the Dark Forest manages gets a firm clawhold in WindClan.

When Hollyleaf shows up moons later, looking for a place in WindClan, Onestar is quick to accept her. Firestar’s granddaughter, his former apprentice. A cat with powers involved in a special prophecy who can spy on the other clans for WindClan, and she’s here. More than that, she wants to stay, to “help WindClan and Onestar” with “whatever problems they may have”. Nobody wants Hollyleaf there, but Onestar is so excited for this excuse to one-up his old friend. He changes her name, too, as if to say “in your face Firestar! She’s a WindClan cat now.”

Hollystorm doesn’t like Onestar, but she’s very good at faking it. It helps that he has a sort of blind faith in her. She’s a chosen one. She’s a good cat, and good cats support Onestar. He doesn’t question her real motives, and he doesn’t notice that her spying on the other clans doesn’t tell him anything big and/or useful.

He feels so betrayed when he hears that Ashfoot has talked to ThunderClan, and is furious when he hears about the Dark Forest cats visiting WindClanners in their dreams. He exiles them all (roughly three quarters of WindClan’s warriors, including Ashfoot, Hollyleaf, and Breezepelt), but they don’t listen. The exiles all turn on him, and they drive him out. The young cats who had been rebelling against Onestar since the Dark Forest first visited them in their dreams win. Breezepelt becomes their new leader, Antpelt becomes their new medicine cat, and anyone who refuses to swear fealty to Breezepelt and the Dark Forest is kicked out.

Onestar leaves with Hollystorm and Ashfoot, but is enraged when he hears that they plan to seek aid from ThunderClan. He has spent so long fighting to get out of Firestar and ThunderClan’s shadow. He refuses to disrupt that, and he abandons them along with about three other WindClan warriors. He leaves to rebuild WindClan on his own.

He mostly mopes on a small hill somewhere outside of clan territories until a patrol comes to collect him many moons later. They planned to ambush WindClan last new moon. They don’t know how it went, but they hope that he can return to lead WindClan again.

They lost, Onestar finds when he returns. He’s furious but there isn’t much he and his three warriors can do about it now. He begrudgingly agrees to stay in ThunderClan camp, but only because everybody else is doing it.

During the final battle, he faces off against Breezestar. For all his faults, Onestar is a good fighter, and he has Breezestar pinned. He’s about to deliver the killing blow, but several of Breezestar’s new rogue WindClan warriors pounce. They drag Onestar off Breezestar and tear him to shreds.

When he reaches StarClan, Tallstar tells Onestar that he is very dissappointed in him.

The Dark Forest PlanTM: The Dark Forest has a much different plan in this AU. They want to take over the clans, sure, but they’re smart, they can wait...

Many of them want to be leaders of their old clans. Some just want revenge. Either way, they are ready to make their move. They plan to divide the clans, weakening them. Eventually, the clan will snap, a civil war will start, and the Dark Forest can move in. They’ll choose a loyal follower to be leader, another to be a medicine cat, and a another to be deputy. These cats will be puppets, of course, but they will think that they are in charge, which is really all that matters.

WindClan is easy. Onestar is crappy, and tensions are already high. Some dark forest cats are deployed to train the older warriors who believe in the Warrior Code too much to want to overthrow a leader. The others visit the dreams of the young and rebellious. They are pleased to witness the fall of WindClan.

RiverClan is a little harder, but they crack the code eventually. RiverClan has a lot of outsiders and half-clan, and some of warriors still hold on to antiquated views on cats who aren’t 100% RiverClan. Some Dark Forest cats plant doubts in the minds of cats that those who aren’t born in RiverClan to a set of RiverClan cats aren’t loyal. They train to defend themselves against these “disloyal” warriors. Mistystar and Mothwing start to expirience mounting hatred and insubordination. Those who want to stand by Mistystar and Mothwing, their noble leader and trusted medicine cat, also get visited by Dark Forest cats too, building tensions even higher. Before civil war can break out, however, the emergency gathering is called. After witnessing what happened to WindClan and hearing about the Dark Forest cats’ scheming, RiverClan tentativly patches itself back together to face a common enemy. It doesn’t go perfectly, and many wounds are still raw, but things do improve.

The Dark Forest cats don’t make much headway in ShadowClan, but the arrival of Sol helps. The cats need somebody to listen to them, to guide them through these tough times. Isn’t it nice that all these Dark Forest are there to help? A few careful digs at Blackstar here, a few warnings about rebellious cats who aren’t happy with Blackstar’s decisions there, and boom! A civil war looms on the horizen. Firestar’s dark forest warning and the aftermath of Breezestar’s coup help ShadowClanner’s realize that they’ve been played against each other like puppets. Fury at this indignity helps them patch things together.

ThunderClan is the hardest. Some of the cats are receptive to dire warnings about how Jayfeaher, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf/storm are half-clan monsters, but most grew up with Firestar and Graystripe, an outsider and a respected senior warrior who fathered two kits with a RiverClan cat. Feathertail is half-ThunderClan, and she’s a hero. And anyway, the three are still Firestar’s kin. That has to count for something, right? The Dark Forest never manages to get a clawhold in ThunderClan and plans to kill most of them.

When their careful machinations and manipulations are blown, they manage to cobble together a new plan. So what if most of the clans have banded against them? WindClan is on their side and the rogues Breezestar readily welcomes into the clan have made it large and powerful. They’ll send WindClan cats to attack patrols and hunt prey from the other clan’s territories. They’ll slowly pick off cats and lower food supplies until all the clans are weak enough for WindClan to overpower them. When they learn of the planned WindClan ambush, the Dark Forest cats are ecstatic. A force powerful enough to be a threat, but not big enough to be a serious danger, that can be lead straight into a trap. It’s perfect. They warn Antpelt, who warns Breezestar, and WindClan makes their plans. They turn the ambushers into the ambushees.

If it wasn’t for Jayfeather’s frantic warning, the fate of the clans would have been sealed when WindClan attacks the force sent to ambush them. As it is, several cats from the other clans lie dead, and most are seriously injured. It’s a major blow to the clans, and they slink away to lick their wounds.

It’s the perfect time for an attack. The Dark Forest gives WindClan a few days to repair and prepare, and they attack. The final battle happens at night. It is long and harsh and many cats are killed. At the end of it, Firestar and Tigerstar stand against each other. They fight for a long time, until both die of their wounds underneath the rising sun. The Dark Forest has lost, and the clans are victorious.

Some Extra Stuff:

-Breezepelt never gets his nine lives. Witnissing the brutal death of Onestar leaves him feeling awful and shaken. He and Nightcloud return to the clans in time for Crowfeather’s trial.

-As much as I like the idea of Hollystar, her character arc is all about accepting that she can be important and do good as a regular warrior. But I really really want Hollystar. Maybe if Harespring dies...

-Ashfur goes to the Dark Forest. Just as he deserves...

-The three don’t lose their powers, but their powers do get weaker. Jayfeather’s crazy visions ease up, Hollystorm’s senses dull a little, and Dovedream has to really focus to do her dreamwalking thing and her emotion reading becomes weaker and a little less precise.

[tessisawriter]

What Real Support Looks Like, Part 3 (Mat Barzal)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

A/N: I created a playlist of songs that have influenced me throughout the series.

TCD = Trinity College Dublin

Warnings: One swear word, angst

Word Count: 2.6k

As Lauren pulled into the parking lot of Mat’s building and searched for a parking space, Gemma’s phone lit up with a notification.

Gemma lamented her decision to not throw the phone into her bag as she picked it up and scanned the screen. It was another text from Mat: “I will never forgive myself for what I said. I love you more than life itself and will do whatever it takes to make things right.”

I love you more than life itself. Mat saying the phrase replayed in Gemma’s mind over and over again. It meant a lot to both of them: those were the words Mat used when he told Gemma he loved her for the first time, and after that, it caught on. He said those seven little words whenever he could, and Gemma’s heart always melted whenever he did.

The emotions that she had pushed back in the Eberle’s dining room overwhelmed her now. Gemma didn’t know how things got so bad in the past twelve hours that she was about to collect some of her belongings from the apartment she and Mat used to share.

“Gem? Sweetie?” Lauren’s voice pulled Gemma out of her spiral. “What’s wrong?”

Gemma looked up and realized that her car was now sitting in a parking space. “Everything,” she said. “I have so many feelings and I just don’t know how to process them all.”

“Feelings about Mat?” she asked. Gemma nodded her head in response.

“Are you sure you want to do this today? We can always come back in a few days when everything has sunken in,” Lauren offered.

“It’s not about that,” Gemma snapped at her, and she immediately regretted it. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, sweetie. You’ve been through so much in less than a day’s time.” Lauren assured her.

“I just…I don’t know how I feel about Mat. I’m obviously beyond angry with him for belittling my career, but…I think I still love him. And I hate myself for feeling that way. He made me feel like a bad girlfriend for pursuing my dreams. I should be closing the door completely, but I’m having a hard time doing that.”

“It’s completely normal to have mixed feelings about a break-up, especially since everything’s so raw right now,” Lauren said. “It doesn’t make you a bad person, Gem. You’re human.”

Gemma let that soak in for a minute. She really did feel like a bad person (not to mention a bad feminist) but, like Lauren said, she was human.

“I don’t want to overstep, but in your heart, do you think you can forgive him?” Lauren asked, then hastily added, “Not that I’m saying that is what you should do, because I don’t know what I would do if I were you, but I think you have to ask yourself if you can forgive him because you clearly still have feelings for him, and you need to consider that, too.”

Gemma didn’t answer her right away; instead, she thought long and hard. Could she forgive him for what he said? If she took the statement itself at face value, the answer was an obvious no, but there was so much more to it. Mat was so drunk that Gemma didn’t think he was particularly coherent when he said it, but she also meant what she said earlier about drunk people being more prone to saying the truth. Even if he didn’t mean it, he probably still felt that way deep down. Not to mention that Mat shouldn’t have even been drunk in the first place because it was Gemma’s birthday and he forgot about it. But they had both been so busy since the New Year, and Jordan did say that relationships are tested in this way. 

Gemma hated that she was so torn up about this, and she knew she shouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking him back. The problem was, Lauren was right: Gemma still had feelings for Mat, and she needed to sort them out before making a decision one way or another.

“If we’re talking about forgiving him right now, definitely not,” Gemma finally replied, “But if I had some space and time to think about it…I don’t know what I would do. The only thing I am sure of is that I need time to reach a proper decision.”

“And that is completely valid,” Lauren patted her shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I will fully support you, and so will Jordan and Sydney. We will always be there for you.”

“Thank you, Lauren,” Gemma unbuckled her seat belt and reached over to hug her.

“Of course,” Lauren said, “Now, do you want to go to the apartment or go to a store and pick up a bikini there?”

“I would rather leave, but I left my passport and a few other really important things there in my haste last night, so we should go get them,” she replied. Gemma couldn’t believe she was so stupid as to leave behind her passport, but it was in the safe, so she forgot. At least she had been wearing the Tiffany heart necklace her mother let her take with her to college; Gemma’s dad had originally given it to her mom.

“Yeah, you should really get that back. Let’s go.” They each opened their respective car doors and shut them, and walked to the apartment building, Lauren’s arm slung around Gemma’s shoulders.

When they reached the apartment door, Gemma’s hands shook as she took the keys out of her backpack.

“Do you want me to…?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks, though,” Gemma quickly added. She found her keys, put them in the lock, and turned them to open the door.

The living room looked exactly as she left it, but when she walked into the bedroom, Gemma’s heart sank. Her green TCD sweatshirt was rumpled up on Mat’s side of the bed, as if he had been wearing it or holding it during the night.

Lauren took one look at the sweatshirt and knew exactly what to say to distract her. “Where are your bikinis?” she asked.

“In the wardrobe over there,” Gemma pointed to her left, “Top drawer. I’m going to go in the closet to find my passport.”

“Got it,” she said.

Gemma walked to the door next to the wardrobe and opened it. One of the perks of this apartment was the walk-in closet. She ignored her dresses and his suit jackets, dress shirts, and pants hanging side by side and made a beeline for the safe, which was hidden in the back of the closet. Gemma opened it and felt around inside the safe for her passport. She found the passport and pulled it out, but when she looked at it, she realized that her triskelion necklace was tangled in the passport cover. Gemma smiled for the first time today. She thought she had lost the necklace because it had been missing for months.

While Gemma was on her semester abroad at TCD, she, Annie, and a bunch of their other friends went to the Cliffs of Moher on a weekend trip. Before they went to the Cliffs, though, they visited Poll na mBrón, a Neolithic portal tomb in the Burren, a predominantly rocky area nearby. Near the site of the tomb, a man was selling handcrafted authentic silver Celtic symbol pendants on necklaces at a reasonable price, so Gemma took a look. She was immediately drawn to the triskelion, which has three spirals, and she asked Annie if she knew what it meant. Annie replied that it meant many things and ran through the list, but when she said one of the meanings was “past, present, and future,” Gemma knew it was the one she wanted.

It seemed like her triskelion necklace had come back to her when she needed it most. Gemma ran her fingers over the grooves in each of the three spirals. She had originally chosen this symbol because as a history major, she believed that the past, present, and future are all connected, but the symbol gained a more personal meaning over time. The triskelion reminded Gemma of how far she had come, and that while it was important to remember her past, it did not have to define her or her future.

“Gemma, where are you?” Lauren called, snapping her out of her reverie. She turned around and saw Lauren enter the closet. “What are you doing? Do you have everything you need in here?”

“Yeah, I actually just found my Celtic symbol necklace. I thought I had lost it,” she said, failing to mention the triskelion was actually a Neolithic symbol that was later adopted by the Celts. Gemma was afraid that she bored people when she went off on tangents about history, so she forced herself to not talk about it too much with others. The only people she talked to without reserve were her mom, Annie, and Mat. Well, not Mat anymore.

“It’s so pretty! Did you get that on your semester abroad?”

“Thanks! Yeah, I bought it near the Cliffs of Moher. Would you mind putting it on for me?” Gemma said as she closed the safe and locked it.

“Of course,” Lauren responded, and Gemma stood up, the necklace and passport in her hand. Gemma gave her the necklace and turned around, holding her hair up while Lauren clasped the chain around her neck. Gemma grabbed the pendant and realized that she felt whole again.

“Maybe I should grab a few more pairs of shoes, t-shirts, and sweaters,” she said, thinking about the wacky upcoming weather forecast.

“Already beat you to it. I picked a few and put them on the bed. Except for the shoes, of course,” Lauren replied.

“You know me so well,” Gemma said, and the two of them walked back out into the bedroom, but not before Gemma spotted and grabbed two of her larger overnight bags near the front of the closet. She wasn’t surprised to find on the bed every piece of clothing she had been thinking of taking, so she simply gave Lauren a high five and shoved everything into one of the overnight bags.

“Which bikini do you want?” Lauren asked, pointing to the only pile left on the bed. Gemma examined the bikinis and narrowed it down to a navy and white polka dot set or a sunshine yellow bikini that was a little more revealing and had a removable halter so that she didn’t get tan lines.

“Which one should I take?” she turned around, holding one bikini in each hand, but Lauren was on the floor closing up Gemma’s bag instead of standing next to her. Lauren quickly stood up and pointed to the yellow bikini.

“That one. It gives off happy vibes,” she said, and Gemma couldn’t help but agree. She put it down on the bed, grabbed the other bikinis, and shoved them into the top drawer before returning to her chosen bikini. Gemma knelt down on the floor in front of her bag and opened it, only to find the sweatshirt that had been on Mat’s side of the bed inside the bag. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the sweatshirt’s presence in her bag felt wrong. She took it out, packed the bikini, and zipped up the bag before standing up and putting the sweatshirt back on the bed by Mat’s pillow.

“I don’t want Mat to know I was here,” she told Lauren, “So I’ll take it back another time.”

“Good point,” Lauren agreed. “It just felt weird to see it there.”

She knew what Lauren left unsaid: she thought it was weird that Mat had been clearly cuddling the sweatshirt because it smelled like Gemma. Gemma thought so, too, until she saw the sweatshirt in her bag. Seeing it there made her realize that keeping her sweatshirt was Mat’s way of grieving, and despite still being angry with him, Gemma wasn’t going to judge him for it. She knew it was twisted, but she felt a little better knowing that he missed her.

“Totally” was all Gemma said out loud in response. “I’m just going to grab some books from the shelf in the living room, and then we can go,” she added.

“Okay, take your time,” Lauren replied.

Gemma grabbed the two overnight bags and walked out of the bedroom into the main living space. She put down the bag with the clothes and took the empty bag over to the bookshelf. Without even thinking, she took all of the books in the Shadowhunter Chronicles series by Cassandra Clare off the shelf and put them in the bag. She loved those books to death and was not going to leave them behind. Gemma analyzed the bookshelf for a few moments before grabbing a few history books and some classics, including Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Persuasion by Jane Austen, and shoved them into the bag before zipping it shut.

“Shit, Gem, I don’t know how you just did that, but you picked all those books in less than four minutes,” Lauren said, amazed.

“What can I say? I love my books. Let’s get out of here.”

Gemma picked up the bag with all of the books inside, and she staggered from the sheer weight of the bag. She tried to pick up the clothing bag, but Lauren put up a hand.

“Let me take the other bag,” Lauren insisted.

“Thanks.”

She and Lauren walked out of the apartment. Gemma tried to control the tremors in her hands while she locked up, but she wasn’t fully successful. 

The car ride back to the Eberle’s house was short and silent, and before Gemma knew it, Lauren parked her car in their driveway. Gemma grabbed her bags out of the back seat and followed Lauren to the front door.

“Okay,” Lauren said as they entered the house, “I’m going to get changed for the pool party. Let’s aim to be out of here in ten minutes?”

“Sounds good,” Gemma replied, and they headed off to their respective rooms.

Gemma moved like a hurricane as soon as she shut the door to the guest room. She grabbed her bikini, a pair of cut-off denim shorts, and an old t-shirt she could put in the washing machine and changed in record time. As she slid on her flip-flops, Gemma decided to respond to Mat’s text.

She sat down on the bed and started writing. After much revision, she finally settled on the following text: “I need space. Give me until Monday to think everything over, and I’ll let you know what I’ve decided. P.S. this is NOT a break: my life is not going to turn into the Ross and Rachel show.”

The last sentence was a last-minute addition. Gemma was still leaning towards giving him the boot once and for all in five days, but she didn’t want him sleeping with someone else if she somehow decided to forgive him.

Gemma heard three knocks on the door and Lauren’s voice: “Gemma, are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said, grabbing her backpack and opening the door. Mat could mope all he wanted, but Gemma was done moping. She was going to go to Sydney’s house, have fun with her friends, and try to forget about him, even if it only lasted for a little while.

@averytiredlawstudent @star-adorned @theforevermorereject

[petitprincess1]

My Heroic AU (Warning: Long Post)

So, I don’t know why, but I have this dying need to explain my Heroic AU, especially since I got newer followers. I just want explain more about this to even those that have read my fics, but are more curious about it.

Central/Main Idea: Mine are more on the chaotic good side of things than lawful because I find it more fun and they kind of explore the whole “if villains can kill and destroy and people just accept it, why can’t a hero do the same, especially when justified and with a corrupt justice system?” Basically, whenever a hero does anything like kill or destroy, no matter the reason, they are automatically seen as corrupt or they have a dying need to be stopped, even more so than villains. My Heroic characters basically exist to prove such a thought wrong…even if they aren’t the most mentally balanced people.

Also, the images I’m using were created by @themcnobody when they did a commission for me and I posted it up, so I don’t think this counts as reposting, but I’ll remove them if they don’t want me using them.

The Crew:

Clemencia/Felicity Clement Age: 19-20 Height: 5 foot 3 Job: Assassin/Hitman for Hire Background: Clem was born powerless in a family full of superheroes both on her father’s and mother’s side. Around the time when she was born, White Hat made her family move to a more crime filled neighborhood to lower the crime rate. Unfortunately, due to them being stuck in a bad neighborhood and not having powers, Clem was stuck sheltered for over 19 years. 

However, that changed when she left out on her birthday without her family knowing…and she instantly got followed and almost attacked from a drunkard. Luckily and unluckily, Clem was “saved” by Demencia, who was following the drunkard because they were in debt with the BHO. Dem was going to attack Clem for fun, but she instantly got out of her murderous mood when the girl just expressed her gratitude and she just left her. 

When she came back, in the middle of her party and in front of her entire family, she expressed having a newfound inspiration with her life and finally knowing what she wants to do. And says loudly and proudly, “I want to be an assassin like Demencia!” Everyone was quiet. No one clapped. No one cheered. The only person even seemingly intrigued was a man wearing a top white hat in the back. Personality: She is an endless ball of energy, mostly due to her having so much fun with her unicorn powers and she will always try to use them whenever she can (even if it’s just simply changing her pupils to look like hearts or stars or even question marks). She loves basically being the spoiled little princess of the group, but she also knows when to get serious. And when she is serious, she can be pretty deadly, even though she hides it all with a huge smile on her face and with her excited demeanor all while summoning a battle axe. 

Clem also is a huge dork that loves to make multiple references from games to movies to music, it doesn’t matter. It’s just something that she loves to do. She’s the second most mentally dysfunctional person in the group, often constantly doubting or questioning her decisions She also is obsessed with loving Demencia as much as she is obsessed with killing her or capturing her. All because of that night of Dem saving her and she wants to show her extreme appreciation by being either her greatest enemy or amazing lover. She’s fine with either one. Just as long as she can be with her love.

She loves Slug like a brother and will often play as a lab rat for him by testing his poisons. It doesn’t do any harm, since her horn also has a bit of eldritch magic in it. And other than Demencia, White Hat is another person she’ll die for. She adores him and believes she owes everything to him.

Also, her horn is real and it constantly fries at her brain, while also simultaneously keeping her alive. It be like that sometimes.

~~~

Slug Unglück Kaiser Age: 31 Height: 6 foot 2 (with boots on) 6 foot (with boots off) Job: Medic/Scientist Background:  Basically, his mom and dad are a villain and a hero couple, one of the very few that actually are harmonious together. They actually were (and still are) rivals to each other, but they just think of their “little” fights are just a little game to them. Anyway, they have Slug and his father instantly wants his wife to stop all heroic duties, warning her that now she that she has something precious to her that villains will immediately seek out that target or use him as her weakness. Of course, her being a hero, she ignores him and says she’ll be fine and continues fighting crime. This continues perfectly for a good 5 years, until she ended up going to a mission where they had Slug captured and were using him as leverage. They basically wanted her to give up her life of crime, tossing her a gun, or else her son would die. Not wanting to waste too much time and having already made the decision. She pulled the trigger…killing herself in front of Slug.

The father didn’t blame Slug for her death at the time, but he does immediately try to get him to a life of a crime, despite the fact that he was born normal. His father does this in any way he can whether it be making him see gruesome murders or manipulating Slug or lying to him at every turn, it doesn’t matter to the father. Slug’s grandparents, on his father’s side, hate that their son is doing that to him, so they instead subjugate him to more loving things, this includes making candy and baking. And Slug loves it! So much so that he starts doing it at home more and more, which makes the dad nervous, the last thing that he wants is for Slug to make take himself out of wanting to be a villain. So, the lies, deception, and manipulation increase to full on verbal and mental abuse over the course of 5 or 6 more years. Luckily, Slug always had his baking and candy making to calm him down. 

During one night, while his grandparents were over, his father gets into a very heated argument with his parents while Slug is trying to tune it all out by making his own sugar syrup. The arguing gets louder and louder to the point where Slug felt like he needed to say something, to at least get his viewpoint on things. This gets his dad pissed off to the point where he, blindly in a rage, grabs the pot that Slug was making the syrup and threw it at his face (simple syrup, which is just sugar and a bit of water, can be from 200-240°F), which luckily only hit the left side of his face from reacting quickly. His grandmother immediately tries to calm the burning, while his grandfather keeps his father away from Slug. His father ends up escaping Hat Island and is at large.

Unfortunately, for Slug, while they did get him to a hospital, the syrup gave him four degrees burns, which means you’re to the point where you have brown, leathery skin and you need skin grafting, a part of his lip was burnt so badly that it revealed some of his teeth, and that his left eye was damaged, not blind, but he can barely see out of it. Which is why he needs goggles. Personality: He’s kind of a direct opposite for Flug, like how Flug looks soft but he’s actually intimidating, Slug looks intimidating but is a complete softie. He is pretty blunt person and will always take the more logical route than the emotional, so he tends to seem very cold and analytic, but then will pretty much stuttering out apologies once he’s realized his mistake. He also self-taught himself poisons and engineering to start his own candy van with his friends. 

He also tends to carry candy around as a habit and just something to chew on when he’s thinking or nervous. Plus, he also manufactured his candies to be weapons, just so that no one can get suspicious of him when reaching into his jacket.

 He’s 100% loyal to White Hat and is pretty much ready to kill or harm anyone who dares speak against. He’s even ready to fight against Black Hat if need be, even though he knows it’s a losing fight.

Clemencia is like a little sister to him and he’ll always have her back, but he does tend to make her powers short-circuit on purpose if she does anything too insane.

~~~

White Hat Age: Old…but 300 years younger than Black Hat Height: 6 foot 6 (with hat on) 6 foot 4 (with hat off) Job: Owner of White Hat Incorporated/Consultant Background: …He won’t let me tell you. Personality: How does one describe him? White Hat is the worst out of everyone. Depending on who you are, he can be sweet and nice one second, but then snapping and downright terrifying the next. He likes to refer to people, at least mostly when he’s alone, as his puppets because he can easily trick people that he’s an all-around. I mean, who’s gonna question the man that’s the number one hero and was documented doing so many heroic deeds? No one, which makes this perfect cover up. And no one is safe from him, if you’re a hero or a villain or just an employee and you defy him, trick him, backstab him in anyway, you are probably not gonna live for much longer (in other words, you’re gonna get a visit from Clem) or if he sees value in you, then he has no problem in re-teaching you the rules here in White Hat Inc. 

Other than that, White also loves to be around humans, however. They oddly fascinate him with how interesting they are, especially with how they can easily make their lives harder by making one wrong decision or how they can ruin their day with one intrusive thought. And yet, a lot of them still find reason for continuing to live. Extraordinary. Plus, he also adores the food made on Earth and will sometimes take that over souls or flesh any day.

Also, he’s in a poly relationship with Clem and Slug because their his two most favorite puppets…and he does care for them. Fun fact: I was/am scared of White Hat because I don’t trust people who smile or are happy all the time. I just don’t. No one smiles that much and no one is that carefree. I don’t like them and that’s why I made him a master manipulator. 

~~~

Also, there isn’t a 606, but there is a Hatbot, who basically is pretty much like 505, except he often does harm others. He just believes that he’s playing with them, since he has the mindset of a child.

And that’s pretty much it. Let me know if you want to know more and this is a lot longer than I thought it would be.

[exobyharu]

PCY - Ch4

Chapter 4: Tomorrow will be better

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)...(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: After some delays, you end up in the cafe with PCY just the same. You dish about life in general. At the end of the night, all hate left you and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

⏰11:58 PM 🌏Hotel (S), City of (L) 🌚It was finally raining but neither of you notice 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, your best friend Jane (mentioned), Kim Jongdae (mentioned)

Notes: I am still alive! I am so sorry that my update took too long! This is Part 4, the final part of my sort of introduction-slash-build-up for the actual story where PCY becomes a permanent fixture in your life :D

Words: ~2,000

💙💙💙

The server ushered you to the center of the café since it was the only unoccupied spot. The place was packed and ever since you stepped in, you had encountered all sorts of curious glances from the tables nearby. Maybe they recognised your companion, or maybe he was simply much too tall to be anyone insignificant. You tilted your head in apprehension, because you surely would have done the same and gawked at these spectacularly underdressed guests.

While Chanyeol was quick to brush them off, that was something you could not manage. In fact, you did not know which made you more uneasy: to have people stare at you because you looked like you had stepped out of a slasher film, or to have people discreetly eyeing the person you were with by pretending to just be facing in your general direction.

When you finally sat down across from each other, Chanyeol asked, “what are you having?” and that was a timely distraction from your thoughts. He looked blissfully oblivious to how he had managed to divert everyone’s attention to himself. You knew that he did not care. You did, though. It was uncomfortable.

“Just… whatever you’re having,” you answered, not because you weren’t fond of coffee, but because you believed that it was the polite thing to say. You also did not know what you wanted, frankly. It was starting to become the recurring theme of your life.

“Nocciola?” He said it like an invitation.

You shrugged.

Perhaps as a precaution, he ordered the sweetest drink on the list. The silence that ensued as you watched him scan through the menu made you realise that a proper conversation with Park Chanyeol is incredibly difficult compared to just heatedly yelling back at him from your suite’s balcony. You felt as if some part of your pride was softening up as you watched this guy kindly flag down a server. You were never the type to be moved just by someone’s looks and here you were, thinking to yourself that there had to be a first time for everything.

Making sure that he did not grow on you, you made it objectively clear that he was simply more perceptive than you gave him credit for. He was nice, only because he was on the penalty here - or at least he thought so.

“I just want to formally apologise to you for last night,” he said, confirming your suspicion, and for a second, the warmth in his voice made you think that he did not have to do this. You had to remind yourself about how difficult it was to arrange a room transfer to strengthen your resolve.

“Well, this is quite formal.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“It’s a bit much for an apology,” you admitted, still. Ten dollars for a shot of espresso? This place was too excessive for your taste. Whatever it was that he ordered, you hoped that it did not cost more than the money you had on you. You also hoped that he did not see through your worry.

“Could be your luck turning around. Had a bad day, right?”

Bad day? Absolutely. Luck? If a reversal of today’s luck meant having Park Chanyeol buy you a drink, then you did not want it. Your pride was not worth a tiny serving of overpriced Italian coffee.

Perhaps today was not really getting better for you. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

Chanyeol was smiling with what felt like shining endearment. “You don’t have to.”

It was too much. He was either laying it on thick, or his smile was simply breathtaking up close. Your defences needed back up. “Then tell me why you’re so nice all of a sudden.”

“I’m nice all the time!” he whined, leaning back against the velvet seat in slight exasperation. He was a good four feet away from your face now. That’s better, you thought, until he pouted. His pout was equally lovable. “Last night was… just a breaking point.”

“U-huh,” was all you managed because you were damned and that was a big problem for you. Why was it such a difficult affair to ignore his charm? You, on the get go, had established that Chanyeol looked much better if he were nice, and tonight, he was exceptionally nice. This made him, by inference, exceptionally handsome too.

He dazzled.

You focused on your hands that were gripping the cold glass of water because you could not look at him. Breathe in, breathe out. You were having a difficult time keeping yourself together. You needed another massive glass of sangria poured on you. It was almost depressing that it came an hour and a half too early.

It proved to be too much effort, prompting your eyes to meet his. How was it possible when the rest of your body seemed to misbehave, too? Your fingers would not stop trembling and your feet shuffled under the table. This was worse than public speaking, except that nothing was really at stake. There was a very handsome guy seated before you, though. That was not supposed to be a problem.

“…never wanted it, so that’s why we’re on this date right now.”

You heard the word and your head snapped up in an instant.

A date?

You counted up to five while your head buzzed with what you would always say whenever you called Jane out for swooning over Kim Jongdae: Woman! We’re not teenagers anymore! We should stop crushing on celebrities and start dating actual real people!

How did you end up in a date with a celebrity and crushing on an actual real person instead?

In your head, you rallied to disprove both counts. But if you could not refute the latter, you decided to capitalise on the fact that this time was not a date. It’s not! “This isn’t a date, Mr. Park,” you clarified, definitely not watching the slight curve of his lips as he tried to suppress his smile.

“I know, I know. I was just hoping to get a reaction from you.” He had laughter in his eyes, which made his gaze even more magnetic. “And call me Chanyeol, for crying out loud!”

“You are loud. Don’t you ever get into trouble for it?”

“Sometimes, I have to be loud to make a living.”

“Sounds like a fun job to me,” you answered wryly.

“It’s not, when your boss thinks you’re not good enough.”

“U-huh.” His remark was surprisingly loaded and you were not sure if you were willing to explore that. You left the decision up to him instead. “From what I gathered, the world loves you.”

“What a life that would be. How about you?”

He did not seem inclined to entertain the direction you suggested. And even though you were not particularly excited to tell him, a stranger if not by name, about the summary of your life’s current struggles, you decided that this day was bad enough to deserve a proper rant as well.

“Well, since I’m an unemployed post-graduate, my displeased parents want to marry me off to their friend’s equally unemployed, but much more financially endowed son.”

Chanyeol’s eyes grew bigger. “…who poured red wine over your head at dinner?”

You managed a laugh despite your paranoia telling you that two middle-aged women were now taking photos of Chanyeol’s back. You had to focus. “…whose pregnant girlfriend poured wine over my head at dinner, actually.”

He whistled. “It’s never easy, is it? Life?”

“Sounds like a backstory you’d like to share.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “Nope.”

“Can I ask you questions then?”

He considered it. “As long as you answer them too.”

Given your excellent talent for sarcasm, this was not the response that you were hoping for. You always felt vulnerable talking about yourself, but if you always veered away from discomfort, you knew that you were veering away from self-discovery as well. Besides, a complete stranger would definitely give you the most objective assessment. And even though you never expected conversations like this to go down tonight, this was just the type that you may need.

“Life sucks, but I’m happiest when I can make other people happy,” you started vaguely after a few thoughtful seconds. “What makes life more tolerable for you?”

“Same.”

“The hell???” you choked, keeping your voice in check. “You can’t copy my answer!”

Chanyeol’s smile finally eased in again. “But I think the same!”

“Explain then.”

He hummed absently in response as the server arrived to serve your drinks. You breathed in the sweet scent the coffee placed on the table, only opening your eyes when he finally started talking.

“Tonkatsu,”  he said, taking a sip from his drink. “Tonkatsu makes me happy. And performing on stage. With thousands of fans. Hearing them sing to our songs as we dance on stage with lights illuminating everything and confetti falling everywhere around me. That’s when I’m happiest.”

When you said nothing, he grinned. “Too detailed?”

“Not the details I’m looking for, but I guess it’s enough to paint a picture. It must be nice to be a superstar.”

“The people who matter are those who support you. Ignore everyone else who doesn’t. You don’t need to be a superstar to know that.”

“So, only your fans matter and your boss doesn’t. Is that what you’re saying?”

He playfully pointed a finger at you. “That is exactly what I’m saying. In fact...” Trailing off, Chanyeol turned to the bag beside his seat and fished out the only thing that could make a musician so thrilled. It was a signed copy of his album with some other guy that Jane would probably recognise with her eyes closed.

Seriously?

It was impossible for you to mirror his excitement, but you did not want to be rude. “What is this?” you asked instead.

The guy’s smile was beaming at you, no doubt eager to see you react positively. “It’s our subunit’s EP.”

Unfortunately, you were not one to fake it to be kind. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Even though, like I said, I’m not actually a fan.”

“Oh, but you will be, when you listen to it later!”

With that, you did not argue any further. It was enough that he believed you already and soon enough, the rest of the conversation flowed without effort. He even ended up telling you about why he was there in the hotel, and why his mentors think that isolation was a great opportunity for uninfluenced introspection and creativity. In return, you shared pretty much everything, including those that you refused to tell even Jane. It was not until the cafe was closing that the both of you realised that it had been at least a couple of hours since you sat down and started talking. Regretfully, with only Chanyeol’s EP as a souvenir, it was time to leave.

You took the elevator back to your floor that night feeling easy, having had a once-in-a-lifetime café conversation with an insanely handsome, remarkably perceptive and contagiously cheerful stranger. You could not remember the last time you enjoyed spending an evening, just being yourself without fear of being judged or told off. Maybe part of it was because you knew that he was what you would call a passerby – a person that you would meet once and never see again. For that, you had nothing to lose. And unlike last night, he turned out to be capable of sweet when he put in the effort. Even sweeter was the inviting scent when you entered your unit as you discovered the giant bouquet of pink roses that adorned the living room table like a centrepiece. On it was a note, written in sloppy handwriting and for some reason, you knew who sent it. Chanyeol must have had it delivered to your room while you were at the café and you could almost hear his voice as you read the message.

Tomorrow will be better. I promise. - PCY

And so you fell asleep with the visual memory of your favourite passerby’s smile, wrapping over you like a warm blanket. Only for tonight, you promised yourself. Tomorrow, you will leave the memory of meeting this wonderful person behind.