#Gif of Always sunny only it's me pointing to the board asking if we can talk about Moon Knight because I've been dying to talk about MK

[what-gs-watching]

"And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

Okay. I’m getting my wit’s about me. Sort of.  It’s a process. But it’s also probably why I’m about to go all Charlie from It’s Always Sunny with his crazy conspiracy board (seriously though, this took me three days to write) about Good Omens episode 4. Because y’all, it’s the 1941 episode. And there’s sooo much going on. Pivotal, heart wrenching shit. 

The most important of the ‘present’ stuff happens in the opener, of course. Aziraphale is driving back from his fun little romp in Edinburgh when he sees a hitchhiker on the road, but he’s resolute in not stopping, he’s trying to get home to Crowley. Only after he sees the hitcher a few times and almost hits them does he relent, and guess who climbs in the car - Shax. 

She knows who he is, she starts talking about the Bentley and wondering why it had never been upgraded. She wants information from Az, she insists that Crowley is hiding Gabriel and we all know he’s not a good liar, but he does his best. At one point she says she’s confused as to why Crowley would risk destruction for Aziraphale, she says “you don’t seem his type at all.”

Michael Sheen, sweet sweet Michael Sheen and his mastery of facial expressions, just tips Aziraphale’s eyebrows, just a bit, just perfectly so. You can hear him thinking ‘giiiiiirl you don’t know shiiiiit’ and. I. love it.

She also says “I remember 80, 90 years ago hearing that you and Crowley were an item, didn’t believe it then….” and she’s trying to mess with his mind. He again tells her that Crowley isn’t with Gabriel and he doesn’t know where Gabriel is. She asks him to let her out in the middle of nowhere, says he’s already told her where Gabriel really is, and when he gets all huffy asking how he’d done that, she says “You didn’t, you have now.”

Truth be told, I am not a huge fan of Shax. She’s the one pushing this entire situation, I mean sure Beezlebub says she wants to find Gabriel but Shax is a bootlicker and she’s ratcheting the entire thing up to 11. In an extremely annoying, fumbling way. Always so fumbling.

Whatever, though,  it’s fine. We need to dig into the past. 

Of course we all remember the 1941 scene in the first season. And, if we’re clocking our timeline right, 1941 is the first time (that we know of) that Aziraphale and Crowley see each other after their dustup in the 1860’s. When Crowley asked for holy water. And Aziraphale outright refused, not wanting to provide a suicide pill. When Azirphale said they were ‘fraternizing’ and Crowley was incredulous about it, an argument ending with both of them insisting they didn’t actually need the other one.

So like 80-ish years in between, right? But then Crowley literally hot-steps into a church because Aziraphale is playing spy games that he doesn’t understand.

My theory? After their little tiff, Crowley realized pretty quickly he’d gone too far (too fast) with Aziraphale, my dude doesn’t have anyone else to fraternize with, let’s face it, and he missed Az. I have to assume he’s had low-level Aziraphale detection since they met (alright, maybe it’s not so low-level, I’m sure it’s jacked up as fucking high as it can GO), so he just had to bide his time and wait for sweet little Az to get into one of his rescuing situations, because he so loves being rescued, and it would allow Crowley to apologize in his own way. You know, instead of actually explaining why he needs the holy water in the first place. 

Baby girl had to have had a plan in mind, because the entire story after the church burning? Hard ‘doting boyfriend’ vibes. He was gonna make Aziraphale want to be friends again. The internet seems to think that when Crowley saved Aziraphale’s books from the bomb, that’s when he realized he was in love with a demon, and that could be - and if it was, the rest of the night absolutely solidifies it, with the way Crowley comes for him. All of the heart eyes, all of the squealing.

So, they escape from the church. And then we see the three German idiots in hell, being processed by Furfur, who, it had been established prior, wanted to get out of his shit desk job and into something better. Fucking Shax of course, tells him to be on the lookout for any good information and to bring it to her, she’ll help him out. She’s the worst.

The Germans of course say they don’t belong there, their plans were cocked up by someone named Crowley and his friend and Furfur puts it all together. So he tells them they can go back to earth and be free of hell’s grip if they help him find proof that Crowley and Az are working together. After our favorite two have driven off, we see the Germans reanimating, and eating a drifter’s brain for good measure.

In the Bentley, (everytime I hear Crowley say “lift home?” in the scene before all nonchalant, my brain breaks a little) Aziraphale is still gripping his books and he tells Crowley he did a very nice thing and then says “there must be something I can do for you in return…” and I enjoy the implications y’all have assigned to this little exchange. We all love suggestive, dark horse Aziraphale.

It blows (haha I’m sorry) past Crowley though, and he takes them to a theater in the West End so he can deliver some bootleg booze, which of course turns out to have been shattered in the bomb drop. The theater owner is livid about it, and distraught over losing her magician for the night and immediately Aziraphale offers his services in ‘prestidigitation’. Because of course he thinks he’s a magician. That’s so Aziraphale.

Back at the bookshop Az is aflutter at this opportunity and Crowley thanks him for getting him off the hook, to which Az replies a little hesitantly “that’s what friends are for.” Clearly he’s also feeling bad about their last interaction and he’s trying to make up for that, and the church rescue all at the same time. But I have to assume he’s terrible at magic and I think Crowley does too but again, he’s all in on being a doting boyfriend. Both of them are working so hard to get back to a good balance with each other.

Crowley sits and lets Az practice some close-up tricks on him and he does a terrible American accent pretending to be an audience member. He encourages Aziraphale so delicately while suggesting he needs some bigger, better tricks for the show. He isn’t mocking him, he isn’t condescending, just supportive. When Crowley says they should buy a trick and Aziraphale insists the shop is for professionals only, the way he says “You, my Nefertiti fooling fellow, are about to perform on the West End Stage. If that doesn't make you a professional conjurer, I don't know what does” is loving, with only the slightest tinge of amusement. 

At the magic shop, the two poke around, while being followed by German zombies, and Crowley picks up a trick that the shop owner opens, covering them both in confetti. There’s a meme out there with this gif that just says :excited demon noises: and that’s exactly it. He’s so tickled the entire time. 

Meanwhile, the shop owner tries to suggest amateur tricks to Az but he’s not having it and his eyes fall on something called the ‘bullet catch’ which requires a rifle, and as we find out, a trusted confidant with a steady hand that Aziraphale has to really trust because a handful of people have died attempting it. 

So he pulls Crowley aside after saying “I’ve got the perfect man for the job” and he swears he’ll do all the tricky bits, all Crowley has to do is fire the gun. He’s so excited and sure of himself and he assumes Crowley has plenty of experience with firearms and Crowley agrees to do it, sticks his hand out for a shake but Aziraphale grabs it with both hands and glows and wiggles and shakes vigorously. It’s another fun little adventure for Aziraphale.

They get a little manual that’s supposed to explain the trick and off they go to the show because who needs to know how to actually do it, they’ve got miracles. They’ll be fine. 

The zombies follow of course, and take up in the back of the theater and then summon Furfur. Aziraphale’s magician name is “Fell the Marvelous” and they give him a ridiculous intro and he slinks onto the stage and he’s so nervous, it’s sweet. Az is really all in on the human experience - he took magic lessons and he wants to be so good at it that he just dives in without really thinking it through. 

He asks for a volunteer from the audience, indicating he needs a marksman, and all the hands go up except for Crowley, which is very on brand. He’s sweet boyfriend right now, but he’s nervous and yet, up to the stage he goes. Of course, in the background, Furfur has activated a miracle blocker so when Aziraphale tries to warm up the crowd by turning a turnip into an inkwell, it doesn’t work. He tries a few times, Crowley tries from the wings, and he realizes what’s happening. Kid pulls out the manual from his coat and frantically flips through it. They’re in actual danger. Ya know, like they do.

When he joins Aziraphale on the stage they both confirm their miracles aren’t working, but Az knows they need to plough ahead with the trick. He tells Crowley to load the gun and he looks a little unsure and confirms he hasn’t actually fired a gun, “not as such”. 

Meanwhile, as they pass the gun between themselves, Furfur takes a polaroid. 

The anxiety between them is palpable. Az instructs him that he’ll need to fire on Aziraphale’s signal. They stare each other down. Crowley aims at him clumsily, he’s supposed to aim for his mouth but shoot past his ear. Neither one of them bothered to learn the trick at all, whatsoever. And they’re in it. 

Aziraphale seems to mouth something. There’s a post out there from Neil Gaiman confirming the sweet summer child said “trust me”. 

So, he gives the signal. And in my mind Crowley maybe shuts his eyes a little bit and just goes for it. And it works, no one gets shots and Aziraphale pulls a bullet out of his mouth and the crowd goes wild. Furfur is disappointed, but it doesn’t matter, he got what he needed. 

Afterward, they’re in a dressing room and Az is absolutely tickled pink, he’s floating around with a boa and he asks Crowley if it really went well and he gets the affirmation that he needs. Az needs encouragement, all of the time, and it’s always all the better coming from Crowley. 

But their celebration is interrupted by Furfur, ready to have his own little moment. He introduces himself to Az and says he knows Crowley but Crowley truly seems not to recognize him whatsoever (which is the first time this happens in the season, but isn’t the last. Crowley has cobwebs y’all, and I know we are all curious as to where they came from). 

The point, he says, is that Crowley is in violation of the infernal code because he’s cavorting with an angel. He pulls out a little booklet that educates demons on angels of earth, open to Az’s page. The way he butchers Aziaphale’s name is wonderful, and gives Az the opportunity to correct him in a perfectly stern and authoritative way.

(Side note: if you blow up the page you can see that Az is classified as dangerous, and it says that if anyone runs into him, they shouldn’t approach and instead contact Crowley immediately. Boy has been protecting that sweet little angel's head for so long. But to be fair, he is potentially dangerous, guardian of the eastern gate, and all.)

Crowley tries to pass the whole thing off as coincidence but Furfur has the instruction manual for the trick, citing needing a “trusted stooge and confidant.” He tells them not to try anything funny because of the miracle blocker, and then he says to Crowley, “Shall we?”

The demon is unaffected though, he says “we shan’t” and he lays himself right out on the couch he’s been sitting on, covering his face with his hat. They don’t know about the photo of course, but each of them get a look at it and Furfur says Crowley can expect a legion to come for him in the morning, he should enjoy his last night on earth.

He then tells the zombies they’re free to go, but surprise! They’re gonna need to stay zombies. Hell’s deals are always trash. Don’t forget that, kids. 

Next thing we know, Furfur is back down, ready to show off his proof and get his promotion. Shax is looking on, interested, but when the envelope is opened, it’s just a flier for the girlie show, polaroid nowhere to be found. Our heroes have pulled one over on him. 

Back at the bookshop, Crowley is impressed with Aziraphale’s skills. He tries to recreate how he recovered the photo and swapped it, but of course he can’t. It worked when it mattered, and that’s all that matters. 

And then Aziraphale goes for it, he says “I knew you’d come through for me. You always do” and he’s using a quieter tone and it’s more of an acknowledgement of their relationship than Crowley’s gotten in a long time, maybe ever.  Crowley just says “well, you said trust me” and Aziraphale’s voice goes up a little bit and he says “and you did.” 

That’s the entire Arrangement, gang. They trust in each other that both will protect the fragile, whatever it is that they’ve forged, from everything. It’s not about helping out with the odd temptation or blessing, it’s about the fact that the only thing they have is each other. Which is why Aziraphale refused the holy water, and also why Crowley asked for it. 

True to his nature, Aziraphale insists that if Crowley was as evil as he says he was, he would have walked away from the trick, from the situation, but the demon says that you can’t just see things in black and white, you need to blur the edges. And Aziraphale actually agrees, he says there could be something said for shades of gray. Light gray, of course. And they just smile at each other.

SO my question is, all of this is lovely, right? They’re back to the two of them, whatever that might be, everything mostly worked out and Crowley thinks he’s successfully navigated their last fight and so does Az. Aziraphale is even starting to admit that maybe he could step out of the confines he’s trapped in (sometimes). 

But the next thing we know (from a timeline standpoint) is Aziraphale delivering a thermos full of holy water 20 some-odd years later and desperately saying “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” 

That poor angel spent twenty years thinking about 1941 and he’s got to be feeling guilty. Maybe he realized what the holy water could really be used for - after all, his love for human pageantry almost got Crowley dragged back to hell. Again. Like his need to do the holy thing had done in 1827. And his newfound interest in shades of gray could make everything even more dangerous. Especially with the way Crowley had treated him that night, the books and the trick and he never even tried to deny the compliments Az showered him with, and Aziraphale’s own feelings. 

So maybe it does make sense after all. Doting boyfriend was too much for him. I imagine him purposely avoiding Crowley at all costs through those years, until he could work up the nerve to deliver that thermos. He stepped out of his box ever so slightly and it almost ripped his only friend from him. All of the mini-sodes in this season are really about Aziraphale trying to get to gray (Crowley getting him there, so slowly, so patiently) and he does, and then it’s horrible somehow.

Do I now kind of want an entire season about the years between 1941 and 1967? Yes, obviously.

The point is, Aziraphale is still in his goddamn box throughout the season even though he’s more accepting of doting boyfriend as a general concept, and they’re still not fucking talking about any of it. Because that’s the Arrangement, and doing so would definitely skew more toward the dark shades Crowley prefers. 6,000 fucking years and the shade is still agonizingly light. It’s too light and y’all really need to find the correct hue and fast.

Because in the present, Shax gets authority to amass as many demons as possible, and attack the bookshop, that asshole. 

And Aziraphale returns home and Crowley thrusts a box of plants at him and coos to the Bentley about missing him and he asks how it went and Az unconvincingly says nothing weird happened at all but they aren’t hearing each other, they never ever hear each other properly.

 But, Crowley’s awning of a new age has failed, and so it’s Aziraphale’s turn to mess with human emotions that he doesn’t (quite) understand. Whickber Street Shopkeepers Association monthly meeting, here we come.

[animegirlop]

Zoro X Y/N Pov: after their first meeting p.4

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Y/N Pov:

🍻"I guess Zoro wants you in the crew..." Luffy smiled bigger, "And if Zoro can sense and see how strong you are, then you're welcome to the Crew". It was hard to believe what Luffy just said, was it that easy to become a part of this crew? For all, he knew y/n could be a Bounty hunter. "Thank you Captain" Y/N smiled and looked at Zoro, he seemed a bit happy but calm. The doors opened up and the rest of the crew appeared, "We are trying to sleep, what's with all this noise?" One of the crew mates that chough your eyes was a skeleton. Your eyes widen, Y/N was unsure if she should be amused or a bit scared. "Oh I see we have a new lady on board. Hello I'm Brook, would you like to show me your panties?" "Like she would show you anything!" Zoro and Sanji attack Brook at once. You were taken a bit back at all this, what kind of Crew is this? A skeleton? a Racoon? a pervert? And a Long nose?

🍻Nami and Robin came up to you with a smile each, "I heard that you are our new crew mate from Luffy. Welcome, let's give you a tour" You smiled back and followed the two of them. This ship was amazing it was so big and had so many rooms. "So tell me, does Brook always ask to see panties, and is Franky a pervert?" The two of them laughed at your question. "Well the one about Brook is true, Franky on the other hand gets called a pervert just because of his choice of looks and clothes. But still, they both are great guys and they are strong and reliable" Robin explained and looked from you to Nami. These two ladies were so nice to you, to now you had been a bit skeptical to the crew. You felt so safe with Zoro, after getting to know the rest of the crew little by little it was interesting. Y/N had fallen in love with Chopper, he was truly adorable.

Zoro Pov:

🍻 Zoro was laying on the grass at the Sunny and just relaxed after last night, he couldn't get away the image of Y/N when she was fighting the Marines. She had given him another view of Swords-Women, but only for her. Y/N sure was a special woman, "What's up there?" Zoro turned his head to see her with Nami and Robin. Y/N was pointing towards the crow's nest, Zoro smiled, stood up, and went over to the three girls. "That's the crow's nest, it's my training room. You want to see?" He asked and hold Y/N close by the waist, this was the first time he was in love. And he was not going to hide it! "I'd love to" Y/N looked up at him and smiled, Just how adorable can she get?. "We'll go back to bed, you should also get some sleep" and with that Robin and Nami went back to the girl's room. Zoro led Y/N towards the crow's nest, "it sure is a big ship, and many rooms here" "Yeah your right, I don't sleep in the boy's room. I spend so much time up here so this has become my place to sleep, you are welcome up here anytime you want if you need silence" He helped Y/N up the last part.

🍻 "so quiet and peaceful it is here," Zoro smiled at her and laid back down, Y/N sat beside him. She was smiling too, "Listen Y/N, I have never had feelings for someone before like I have for you... Do you have feelings for me?" Y/N didn't react like he thought she would, she just gave a little smile and laid down beside him. "Do you think I would fight with you and then come with you to the Sunny if I didn't?" Y/N gave a little laugh and poked him on the nose, Zoro couldn't help but laugh a bit himself as he pulled her to his chest. Y/N placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes, "so you do wanna be my girl?" "Of course," her voice was so sleepy as she fell into a deep sleep. Zoro didn't fall asleep at first, he was laying there stroking her hair. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep, it made him feel some kind of peace. After a while of watching Y/N, Zoro could feel his eye slowly closing as he was drifting into sleep.

[amindofstone]

Starry night

a/n: Guys! Listen to me! Smoking is bad! It is bad and I simply hate it. Like how are so many people okay with that smell?! My head hurts so damn much whenever I smell it and my nose starts to burn. But that’s not the point. It´s just that I want to make clear that smoking is bad not only for the smoker but also for the people around them. Oh and: Smoking is not cool! (For the little kids that think its "SOOO COOOOL". Shut up. It´s not!) Anyways, enjoy the little work of me that was made out of a little daydream of mine.

Genre: anime imagine?

Words: 1291

Character(s): Sanji x Reader (Rose)

Spoiler(s): None

Info: Please keep in mind that the words in italic are the train of thoughts of Rose (reader).

!!! Please do not steal my idea or work. Credit me if this is shared or published in any other platform or any other way. Please respect me as the writer and my work. Picture is not mine. Credits to: @yn.xx.l (can be seen in the pic) !!!

A calm night with a clear sky surrounded the sunny. A starry night worth to be seen and spent on deck. A comfortable warm weather spread around the area of the New World in which the Sunny sailed since a few hours and made the crew relax and sleep in peace. Usually the Strawhats would use a night like this to celebrate and be as loud and energetic as they are and would only stop when no one is able to stand anymore. Sometimes they are even so loud that Rose couldn´t help but feel bad for their ally Trafalgar Law, who was a naturally calm and introverted person. The thought of him locking himself up in the girls cabin still manages to make her laugh each time. Even Nami who didn’t like any boy be in the cabin felt bad for him and let him stay there. But the money loving woman she is, she wanted him to pay for his stay and if Robin, Chopper and her didn´t interfere the poor man would have paid as frustrated as he was.

Rose took a deep breath and closed her eyes while she enjoyed the calm silence that was accompanied by the waves crashing onto the sunny. A soft cool breeze made the brunette shiver what caused her to wonder if she should go and grab a blanket or at least a jacket if she planned to stay on deck but that thought quickly left her mind when she felt a jacket being placed on her shoulders. “Hello my dear. What are you doing all alone this late?”, Rose turned around and was surprised to see the blond cook behind her. A bit startled she looked him in the eyes “How come I didn´t hear you coming?”, she asked surprised what made the tall man next to her smile. “It seems like you were lost in thoughts. Is everything alright?”, he asked and leant against the railing. Rose gave him a tender smile and shook her head. “No worries. Everything is fine. I just thought that the night was really beautiful and needed to be seen.”

She gave him one last smile and looked back up to the sky when she heard a little click that made her look back to the man beside her. With a new cigar between his lips the man beside her loosened his tie and tried to put his lighter to work. But his lighter to his luck was working against his will. “Even your lighter is tired of lighting up your cigars.”, Rose said with a sad smile while she put on the jacket her crew mate put over her shoulder. A bit confused the cook looked up at her. “10 minute is the longest time you did not have a cigarette between your lips. 10 minutes was what I counted. Don´t you think your smoking habit is a bit too much?”, overwhelmed but also surprised by her words Sanji stopped in his tracks with the lighter still lingering close to his cigarette that wanted to be light up. “I´m sorry I didn´t wanted to put you in any uncomfortable situation. I´m sure that you have a reason for the constant smoking but I just can´t help but be worried. It´s detrimental for you after all.” Another click could be heard and Rose spotted a small source of light out of the corner of her eyes. First puff, …. second puff, …. thrid puff, …. fourth puff. Rose counted silently in her head before she saw him flick the spent ashes over the railing. Fifth puff. “I know.”

“If you already know this why don´t you try to smoke less?”, the cigarette was put between his pink lips when he rolled up his sleeves. Little smoke clouds were dancing around the somehow majestic looking man while he rolled up his left sleeve then the right sleeve. With his cigar still in his mouth he put his hands in his pockets. Rose followed each of his movements with a sad but tender and loving gaze. “Smoking is a part of me. It belongs to me just like cooking. I mean, I do know that smoking is not healthy, partly also because Chopper tells me that on a daily basis, but going honest I never cared. Smoking was a way for me to grow one way or another. It… well… I´m really sorry, dear. But I just don´t know how to explain it. Just know that it´s a part of me and can not be taken from me that easily.”

Rose looked down at the railing and focused on her hands but kept talking to the man that managed to take her heart. “Did you know that one cigarette shortens your life up to 10 minutes? This might not sound a lot but just think about what you can do in 10 minutes. And think about the fact that one package of cigarettes has 21 cigars. That makes 3 hours and 30 minutes you threw away and . I.. I mean… I´m sorry. I should keep quiet. Please forgive me if I hurt you. I didn´t mean that.”

Sanji was confused and didn´t know how to react to her words of concern, what was unusual for someone that is constantly flirting with every woman passing him. “Rose, please. You don´t have to apologize. You didn´t do anything wrong. It´s okay, because you´re just worried and going honest that´s actually really sweet of you.”, a little blush spread across the young pirates cheeks and made her close her eyes. No matter what he says or does. Even if it´s just a tiny compliment or a smile he is able to make my heart race. But it´s fine because we are dating, right? “Rose, how come you always tell me that? I mean, tell me that I should stop smoking?”, Sanji slowly came closer and stood right beside her with one hand of his taking hers in his to intertwine them. “I might sound annoying but I´m just saying this because I care for you, a lot.”

Simple words but with a heavy and deep meaning left her mouth that made the blond man’s heart race like crazy. He tried his best to keep a calm and controlled facet but failed when Rose slightly turned towards him to look him in the eyes. “I care for you Sanji, more than anyone in the planet.”, Rose hesitated for a second but decided to follow her heart and mind that screamed for his warmth. She placed her hand that was not intertwined with his and placed it on his cheek just to caress it slowly and make him close his eyes and whimper. “I am not sure if I´m allowed to do this since we went on just one date, but it´s something I wanted for a long time.”

She released her hand that laid in his and used it to take his cigarette. She didn´t take it out of his mouth instantly but rather waited for a reaction of his. But he didn´t do anything. He stood still and let her do whatever she wanted. Rose gave him a genuine smile and took his cigarette from him and threw it over board. “Rose…”, Sanji was confused and wanted to ask what she wanted but never had the chance to do it because everything was long forgotten when she placed a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. A quiet moan could be heard that came from the cook. He wanted to hold her closer and ask for more but before his brain could process everything she placed a short kiss on his cheek and wished him a good night.

[dreamiesdotcom]

butterfly effect│nct dream

Summary: You think of it as something caused by the butterfly effect — the great loves you had to leave, and the one that made you stay.

Pairing/s: 7dream x Reader

Word Count: 12k

Moon's note: since it's my birthday and I promised... it's not the best but I'd like to thank you guys for staying with me and wishing me a happy birthday! I hope you all have an awesome 2021!

You weren't really thinking straight when you met him — instead, your mind was a mess of one thought and sidelines; the little things. Butterfly effect. The knowledge that ten minutes from now the train will board — you'll miss your ride to school, you'll miss school — so you run faster, faster, and there it goes. The butterfly effect — knowing that what little thing you did could've changed someone's life entirely.

If you have made it ten minutes earlier, maybe you'd be sitting in the spot where a child buzzes with excitement, knowing that she'll see her father sometime soon, and in exchange, she will be in another place — maybe she won't meet the girl sitting across who offers her one of her candies. Maybe she won't be riding the train at all — maybe she would have to wait six months again before she can go see her dad.

You sulkily take the path to one of the exits, thinking about catching the bus or something. The skies are dark and you're aware of its plan, also aware that you left your umbrella. Frustrated and too annoyed to even think about school, you crash to the empty bench, bags left to drop to the floor. Tough luck. 

The boy chuckles, "Missed the train too?"

"Yeah," you grumble, not even bothering that he's a total stranger. "Was caught in a daydream and got lost on the way. You?"

"Eh, my idiot of a best friend made me wait," he shrugs. He brings his book down and offers you a handshake, "I'm Huang Renjun — I see we study at the same place. May I know your name?"

You don't speak after a minute or two, but you shake his hand, to which he laughs at. You think it was you being overwhelmed. Maybe your soul just knew how much impact he was meant to throw at your life.

Huang Renjun doesn't become a one-time encounter, but instead, he becomes someone you take train rides with; be it you're late or not, to school or to the library. He stays constant occurrence, so much that Huang Renjun turns into Renjun, then Renjunnie — until you're free to call each other names like 'dumbass' and 'stupid' and everything crumbles down; formalities, facades, walls. You don't feel it then, but if you were to look back, you think it's that one dark-skied Monday with you two terribly late and finding yourselves back in the same bench, when everything the world laid down for you has shifted.

Renjun pout his lips, bored. He tears his bag from himself and lets it stay under the shed, but he stretches his hands out to the sky where his eyes are set, watching water fall in tiny drizzles before a full-blown rain, "Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?"

"When we should be at school?" you huff, more amused than questioning but it comes out as a scolding. He only nods his head, and you furrow your brows, "Renjun, you're crazy."

He doesn't reply, only answers with a deadpan gaze that asks Are you going or not? and it makes you tighten your expression further. 

"Hold me."

The boy grins in triumph — he cheekily smiles, immediately pulling you under the rain and laughs like a tiny kid. It's contagious, you figure out, his laughter; if not for his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours, you would've fallen over laughing with him. It was less of a dance and more of a cuddle, swaying to the sound of the rain and his sweet hums. Renjun whispers to you the melody of a love song, and you couldn't help but ponder.

"I always wanted to do this, you know?" you feel silly even confessing, "To dance under the rain with someone, look into each other's eyes, exist as if the world doesn't and maybe give them a kiss. I wonder how that'd feel."

Renjun's serenity read ideas — those that never failed to get you two in trouble. He tilts his head, "Kiss me, then."

You feel like the world stops, and your heartbeat slows, as if the raindrops are little speckles of star-like lights littering the surroundings. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, shock ripping through your body, a confused sound escaping your throat, "What?"

"I guess you don't always need to have feelings for the person you're kissing," Renjun purses his lips. Of all people, you laugh in your head, those words you expected to come out of this one's mouth the least. He huffs, "And I don't have feelings for you."

There's just enough hesitation — uncertainty, unpredictability, skepticism — in his eyes that you find he can't be trusted as much as he normally would be. Renjun drops a half-smile, eyes unreadable, "But I sure do know I want to kiss you. A lot. Right now." 

Renjun smiles in victory the second time that day.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You come across Donghyuck in the most inconvenient way possible; a few months after you started dating Renjun and there's a little too many mishaps with making schedules meet. He strides to your chair one sunny Friday, clothes too colorful for the shades of beige decorating the place. Donghyuck didn't know how to approach you; he just kind of winged it by showing you Renjun's texts that he asked him to pick you up because something came up and he can't make it anymore. You didn't really like that — the fact that he didn't even speak, the fact that Renjun stood you up. You thought Donghyuck was arrogant. The car ride home was silent.

He was far from that, you learn the one too many times the same scenario occurred. Renjun was too busy to even show up, more often in the library than in his own place. Donghyuck, being his best friend, never failed to be there for you, keep your relationship intact, make excuses for the other. He'll pick you up from where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend, grab food and spend the whole day playing video games that only he understands, and then half of the time he'll compliment you with little playful remarks. That day was supposed to be nothing so different from the others — it's just that it didn't take much longer for Donghyuck to fall.

How could he not? You smiled so lovingly and spoke so gently, always so understanding and patient and kind. How can he not, when he's already known what song makes your day the most? When he saw how ethereal you looked under the moonlight, as he danced with you by the shore? Sure, maybe most of these moments wouldn't have been if it wasn't for Renjun's absence, and truly most of the things he loves about you aren't for him; he fell in love anyway. Still, that day was supposed to be nothing so different from any others — you're stuck in the odd place quite between grateful and guilty.

"Something came up, he won't be here." The boy says firmly through gritted teeth, hands-on your wrist trying to make you get up, "Please. He doesn't have his phone. He's not coming anymore, let's go home."

"Let me wait for him, please," you say, eyes teary, "Please, Donghyuck."

"No." He simply mutters, and whether it was the sinking feeling of defeat or the determination in his voice, it doesn't matter. You let yourself get tugged away from that place, feeling weak and oddly empty. The car ride home was silent. 

"Thanks a lot, you know?" You shyly say later, once Donghyuck's lost enough in video games and he's run out of knock-knock jokes and witty statements. He couldn't stand the sight of you with your head hung low and eyes teary, "You're always there for me when Renjun is not and... just thank you."

"You're welcome," he sincerely replies. You try to look for it, the lilt in his voice or the smirk stretching his lips, but all you see is worry, and it concerns you. The bad butterflies in your stomach, the bad thoughts in your head; you feel like right now, with you so vulnerable, there should be someone by your side — someone that is totally not Donghyuck. He clears his throat, "You know he didn't mean to, right? He wants time with you too, a lot, you know?"

"I know what I have, Hyuck," you reply, a chuckle at the end of your tone. You lean your back to the couch, head tilted up and voice hoarse, "and I'm fucking scared I'll take him for granted."

Donghyuck's heartbeat slows down, but you don't need to know that. If you're thinking of a similar situation, a place in time back then as cruel winters and as harsh as summer sunlight in the afternoon, you figure he doesn't need to know that, too.

You let out a huff and a smile, "I don't want to know how painful it is to lose Huang Renjun."

Donghyuck thinks he knows why you said it; things normally go down the drain when you start realizing why someone fell for a certain person — at least, he thinks. If his experience is a reliable source, this is the point where you start falling for that person too. When you see how gentle they are, how caring, how understanding. Maybe Donghyuck is lonely — maybe he just wants to be someone who holds another person, singing them lullabies until they fall asleep, much like Renjun does for you. Maybe you're really just lovely — maybe there's an undiscovered force in the universe that places you in the center of his everything. He makes note of the rejection in your confession, and he accepts it, gracefully.

This is the point where he suppresses all the what-ifs in his head — what if you gave me a chance? What if I met you first? What if I didn't skip class that day, and I was with Renjun, and I met you at the same time as him? Do you think you would've ended up with me? — but these thoughts, despite being concealed, they leave a constant reminder that they're still there. It's a truth you both already know, the words that drip like honey from his lips, "I could love you better, so much better."

It'd be a lie to say you didn't think of it, considering his feelings. It would be an even bigger lie if you said that you don't think anyone can love you better than Renjun — you know someone can, and with how you two are handling this, it wouldn't be so hard to. Donghyuck is just so easy to fall for — the way he always knows the right thing to say, the compliments he throws at people, how confident he is, how clingy he gets. You would lie if you're asked, but you can't deny having feelings for Donghyuck, you can't deny how many times you've fallen in a reverie thinking of how good it must feel to be adored by him. Maybe you were lonely, maybe Donghyuck was just like that. Either way, no matter how great this love could be, you know it's wrong. 

"I know you could. I couldn't be any happier when I'm with you. Those instants, they're one of the most beautiful moments in my life, but —" you halt, eyes still staring up at the ceiling. The twist in your gut tightens as you proceed, "But in those moments, I was secretly hoping for things. I was hoping that he was the one doing all of that for me. I was hoping that the happiness I had with you, he was giving me instead."

Donghyuck remains silent for a while. He smiles wistfully, "I know."

It's a rather odd answer, but you figure it shouldn't shock you as much anymore. You sit up straight, confused. Donghyuck motions for you to stand as he does the same. Stars shine in his eyes still, but it's a different light — there's hope in them, but it's a difficult kind of hope. He's beautiful even under dull lighting, it's something hard to pronounce; unrestrained and raw, as if one look at him and you'll crumble.

"Please, for just a while, even just a little bit," He steps closer, eyes downcast, "hold me like you love me."

You figure you were right about thinking that there was always something wrongfully more with Donghyuck — also discover that no matter how much more this feeling is, whatever it is, it can never be love; at least not a healthy one. What love could possibly ruin relationships? Donghyuck and Renjun are practically soulmates — they were made to be best friends, and while they had their other friends, nobody is just like Renjun and nobody is like Donghyuck. You don't want them to fall apart; you of all people know how hard it is to lose someone special. 

Donghyuck's hug felt like fire, uninhibited and uncontrolled, given to someone so undeserving. You hold him like you love him the same way.

"I don't need you to love me back," but maybe he was hoping a bit. Yeah. Maybe. "There was never a chance for us, you know? Against my own best friend, I know I won't stand a chance. I just wanted to hear it from you."

A pause.

"Because I can dance with you under the moon, and I can walk on streets holding your hands, I can give you all the time in the world — I could spend a lifetime telling everyone I'm yours," Donghyuck locks gazes with you, and you wonder how he manages to be both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. He shakes his head a bit, "But that won't make you love me."

"Because I can only ever catch you," he says wistfully "whenever he fails to. I always do, don't I? Catch you, save you, love you. But you're not falling for me. You're not in need of my saving. You're not mine to adore."

He loosens his hug, looks at you like the sun bidding farewell to the moon. He's just as beautiful, if not more, he really is — gold dusting his eyelids and strawberry balm on his lips — he's ethereal. Donghyuck is beautiful in all ways manageable and not, but it's also a different kind of beauty — quite like love, adventurous but uncertain, poetic but tragic. There's a lot of pain in this beauty. He closes his eyes.

"There's not much of us, but I'm setting you free."

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You find yourself knocking at Renjun's door that night, for no particular reason — certain events made you forget that he stood you up. Renjun apologizes and repeats his reasons like a mantra, but words seemed to leave his mouth once he sees your eyes; tired and sore. You don't really need his apologies. You just need him.

Apologies, you see, they almost always never come when they're asked for. When they do, they're mostly unwanted and unnecessary from that point forward. You just feel odd, more restless than you actually are, the world is too loud — you just want to close your eyes and escape for a bit. Renjun holds you silently the whole night, his heartbeat calm, his arms holding you tight and secure.

Renjun knows, but he decides it's better for him not to. He shifts a bit, "If not because of me, why are you sad?"

A part of you knows that this is his way of telling you he understands, that he's aware of what somethings happened behind his back. Renjun always knows. The bigger part of you hoped he didn't — selfishly. You know it's the safest choice to keep your mouth shut. 

You're sad, for a million reasons or for just one, you don't bother keeping up with the numbers. Renjun looks at you like you're a treasure, though, like he means it — you think the only favor you could do him and for yourself as well is to lie. You grin, effectively hiding away the tears threatening to brim your eyes, "I forgot."

He doesn't really know what answer he expected, but his heart sinks at the reply nonetheless. Renjun decides, tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes quickly in a way Renjun wishes it wasn't. He wakes up tired — he was up all night singing lullabies to himself, whispering confessions that wouldn't change a thing and promises he'll never be able to fulfill, stuff that would never make you stay. Renjun didn't cry all night — there was a tear or two, there was three — he didn't just cry all night. He did so much more — relive the past, think that he's sorry, accept defeat and the fact that he's never gonna be enough for you; then he closes his eyes. The rain pours heavily outside and Renjun reaches a hand out to the sky.

"Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?" he says with tired eyes. "One time once more, baby."

You ignore the telltale signs of a heartache — maybe you were too numb, maybe you wanted to pretend it's all normal. Renjun tugs you outside and pulls you into a hug so tight, as if he didn't want to let go but he's losing you. Is he? 

Dancing with Renjun under the rain is oddly similar to the one you shared with Donghyuck under the moonlight, and you find yourself full of guilt as you sway together with him, humming love songs just right next to your ear. 

Renjun knows of that dance, of course he does. He was in front of the place you two were supposed to meet at, hoping that he could still make it. Because of this, he doesn't ask why you're entwining fingers with his while recalling memories of another. He doesn't mind — he thinks, as long as your eyes look at him so softly like that, he doesn't mind anything.

You think Renjun is beautiful like this — his everything an aesthetic you can endlessly write about. His eyes, though, his eyes look distant, wishful and longing. Renjun looks at you like he's letting you go and your heart drops, as gentle and as sweet as the poems he's written of you and the kiss he gifts your lips with.

"Just leave, darling," he whispers, "Stay a lovely memory to me."

It's just like any lovely excerpts you wrote, the last line with Renjun quite familiar and bittersweet. As if in any other circumstances, had he said only the second sentence and the second sentence only, it would have made your heart skip and your cheeks rise in temperature.

Real love is a little not like literature, though, at least the one you had with Renjun isn't. It wasn't almost being the same person. It wasn't sweet chaos. For both of you, it was doing what was the best for each other at the moment — whether it will make you cry, whether it will be painful before it becomes easy, knowing that it won't always be picture perfect but still wanting to give each other what you deserve. It was so much simpler than how he said it in his poetry, just as complicated but not any less romantic than that. Huang Renjun knew that you were aware of what was the best for the both of you — with neither of you ever wanting to force something to work and end up hating each other the more it fails, successfully trading the happy memories with more regrets, you walk away. Renjun doesn't follow just because love isn't always like the idea of it, but he does remember to never forget. You walk away, holding his love dear to your heart.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

Some people are just not meant to be alone, you think. Mark Lee comes just as quickly as Renjun was gone.

You don't even know why your paths crossed — Mark is literally the town's golden boy. He plays sports and aces exams and has a good set of friends; surely, he has more important matters to deal with, and definitely getting coffee at a dingy coffee shop isn't one of them. Not when it's three a.m in the morning, at least.

The shy barista at the counter sends you a gleeful smile as he hands out your order, one which you return with a curt nod and a quiet wish goodnight. He watches intently, subtle but focused — he really isn't one to gawk at people, but he couldn't help it. You held with you a smile that doesn't match the exhaustion in your eyes. You looked like hope. You looked like someone to look up and search for the stars even on a cloudy day. You seemed like a full-bloomed spring to trapped minds and sour hearts. You think Mark is a little too curious like Alice. Mark thinks you're even better than the Wonderland he'd always fall for.

He knows you saw him, he feels the hesitation in your stare. He knows you know him, he's shared a couple of classes with you and has done a couple of assignments as a team, so naturally, Mark couldn't help himself but ask, "Wanna sit down with me?"

You walk up to him with a nod, grateful. Mark tries to remain calm for the rest of the night — caffeine not helping — and he tries to look at his book instead of you, but he simply fails to. He tries his best to conceal himself, but he can't seem to tear away. He can't look at anywhere else when you're sitting there right in front of him — you know pain, you're familiar with sadness, have always been friends with enduring what you couldn't take; Mark sees in you a landscape that makes his heart hurt, a leafless tree he loves by itself but couldn't resist the urge to nurse back into life. Every now and then you'd look up from your cup and he would look away from this book that he's "reading" and your eyes would meet, and the both of you would shyly giggle and open up a small talk.

He walks you home that night, this one and the other and the many next times after that; it's just your thing by now, getting coffee at the most unreasonable hours of the day and staying up until it's too late for either of you to sleep because by this hour you should be blinking awake, walking down lifeless streets and past neon signs and holding hands. Mark would look at you with such awe and when he does, you have some things you forget, and your heart races. He's became a regular part of your day, a constant stranger. And then he becomes your friend. Then kind of more. You think, maybe, just maybe, he can become something more than more.

"I have many regrets in this life, you know? But I don't wanna be imprisoned by them," you shrug, too scared to look up at him and see that he wonders just what failures you've done. You continue your slow pace, both in walking and letting go of things much like words, "I don't want you to be one of them."

Mark stops walking, but he doesn't make you feel like you've said something wrong, so you finally glace up and meets his eyes; those that hold as much tiredness as yours, pressure, those that are glassy and brimming with tears. You smile, "And I like you, a lot, even if I'm in broken pieces. "

Mark looks at you and doesn't see majestic brokenness. Mark falls deeper in love that day, the next and all the others; you were deep like that. He fell and couldn't stop falling and he can't wait to fall even deeper into you, diving into unknown waters with blind fates and silent confessions of love. 

Your relationship was practical — literal and convenient, full of compromise but in a good way. You both were almost always on the same page of what should be done and how to do it, and if not, you two know that it's the best to give it a rest and understand. The balance, that kind of synchrony — it was something you both need, was something you liked about your dynamic; the fact that the partnership was there and you're certain of no taking more than you could give and no giving of less than you deserve. For once, you feel like you aren't pouring liquid into a leaking jar, and you feel content at the warmth he gives you with.

Renjun never made you feel this way; he didn't make enough accommodations for your relationship and you didn't voice out your expectations of him, you just wished he magically knew. Because he always knew that you would understand and other people wouldn't, he ended up giving you most of the weight of the relationship you both should've carried together. Mark was everything you hoped Renjun was; this is where the conflict begins.

When love is fueled by what the past wasn't able to give and what the present is willing to offer, you end up falling for the ideas and not the person. He makes up to what Renjun didn't, he filled to the brim what Renjun wasn't able to, he satiates what Renjun couldn't satisfy. You always saw the things Mark did as what you expected from someone else, so you weren't able to appreciate them as they are. You never truly saw him as Mark Lee who loves you, always as the boy who did everything the last didn't. 

Just as any relationship that revolves around somebody who's not involved, the conclusion was something you saw coming. It comes with tired eyes and worn out sighs, burned out hearts and linked fingers, sour hearts turning bitter. Mark doesn't look at you at all, and you keep your eyes set to the stars.

"The thing with me is I always long for consistency — for someone to understand me and stay understanding of me forever." He breathes out, voice raw. Did he scream? Was he screaming in those empty spaces you two gave each other? In any of those yells, did he call your name? You think you need to yell at the top of your lungs just to hear a sound louder than your heartbreak. He chuckles before continuing, "And I know that it doesn't exist and it never will. I knew that since childhood, but even if I continue disappointing myself, I never stopped hoping."

His shoulders drop — he feels that weak that time, even his knees buckle down and his eyes sting from holding back tears. "So baby, don't play with me," he whispers, more begging than warning and he falls apart, "I don't need a chase — I need someone to wait for the end with."

There's a whine at the back of your throat, but you settle with looking at his direction with an apologetic call of his name. He doesn't reply.

Mark never knew that he could fall in love with the same person all over again even during a break-up. You're just lovely like that — always dancing in your daydreams while you carry the world on your back. Mark feels his breath catch at his throat, he feels his palms go numb, he feels his heart going haywire and begging him so desperately because no, no, don't let go, please, don't let go! 

"There's a huge difference between how much I love you, and how much I can take." He finally spares you a glance, his everything so spent and lonely and blue in a way that isn't the calm of an ocean. "If you can't love me, then please let me go."

Mark knew your answer when you smiled.

────── ❁ ──────

The trip to the coffee shop was slow and empty and chilly, your hands trembling in need to get a hold of warm coffee and your feet taking little steps to such a familiar place. Honestly, you don't even know why you're letting yourself go there — why do you keep on doing this, torturing yourself? You don't even know — maybe you came here to reminisce the past, hold it close one last time before letting it go. Maybe you're here to remember how Mark was, how he was before he met you — oh, how you wish he didn't meet you. How badly you wish he never did, how you wish he never offered you a seat, his comfort, his love, a place in his heart. How you wish you didn't steal the sparkles in his eyes, and at that very moment, you feel the sudden urge to turn around. 

But you're already pushing the glass door wide open, causing the chimes to make that delightful sound.

"Good...!" the cheery voice fades, a concerned look adorning exhausted eyes, "...evening. The usual?"

You hum, nodding soullessly. The boy — Jeno, quietly works your order until he decides he's had enough of you rubbing your cheeks raw wiping down tears. He sighs and finishes your drink, hands it to you with a sympathizing smile, "Uh, you don't look fine, but are you okay?"

You suppress a giggle and a glare — why does he care? But you're lonely, too lonely, so lonely that you only manage a nod, "Rough time. I wish today didn't happen."

"Oh, but other people had the best day of their lives today. They wouldn't experience that day if today didn't happen," he smiles, flashes of child-like optimism and hopes hinting behind the sleepy glaze in his eyes. "You're on your way to yours."

And while on any other day, his reply would have made you annoyed, you find that he's right, and wish that he indeed is. You feel like it's the only right that didn't go wrong today.

Something warns you that you shouldn't be getting yourself caught in his strings and his ways, but you find yourself straying around his orbit. You were lonely. It was that bad — so bad that you found comfort in everything and everyone and Lee Jeno just happened to be convenient; It's just safe to be around each other, and that's what great friends are supposed to be, right? Jeno doesn't judge and he doesn't pry when you tell him not to push it, and he tries to understand without forcing you to make him if you're not ready. Lee Jeno had a soul like comfort and a smile like a piece of home. You insist that you had no interest in either, but with you so down and him the only thing pulling you up, you couldn't help but let him in.

You think some people are just like that — timeless souls stuck in mortal bodies, liquid gold; glowing and burning and bright and hopeful, stars. They're like stars — human stars.

He's always beside you, you see, Lee Jeno. He answers the dumbest questions and the deeper ones, he stays up listening to your heartaches and struggles. He knows a lot about you — never everything, but they're more than enough — and you know about him, too. It's a dangerous edge you two are leaning far too close to tipping over, and still, your gaze screams life and hope and energy, Jeno thinks he doesn't mind. He remembers earlier memories with him crumbling under your fingertips, tears in his eyes.

"Mark Lee... he's not replaceable and I'm not a replacement..." he shifts his eyes down, can't bring it to him to just look at you without breaking himself. He manages a heartwrenching smile, "but I think I'd rather be a replacement rather than a distraction, darling."

But you looked at him and cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead so mellowly, assuring him that he's neither. The storm in his heart stops and all his insecurities don't matter, and Jeno doesn't think he ever felt this good — so light, so dreamy. Your touch brings comfort, much like lullabies, and after years on insufferable insomnia, Jeno falls asleep.

Your gaze, too. If you continue looking at him that way, he doesn't think he'll mind anything.

"Thanks, Jen. For the coffee," you say with a smile, another night spent with him at the coffee shop. These days, you spend most of your free time waiting for his shift to end, watching him stutter and flush every time he realizes you've been watching him. There's a giddy feeling spreading inside your gut as you continue, "and for staying with me. That was so thoughtful of you — how much lovelier can you be?"

He laughs, shaking his head. He sighs, "Stop it. You're giving me hope."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Oh, but I want to," you quickly roll your eyes, an attempt to faux cool control, your expression immediately shifting to something welcoming and soft just enough that his chest tightens. Jeno feels kind of odd — a good kind of odd, a welcomed sensation. You beam up at him with glassy eyes. Jeno shifts his to his shoelaces.

"Don't do that."

"Jen..."

"I love you," he confesses, shallow breaths coming in quick intervals. The floor seems to sway under his feet and the skies feel like they're swirls of dripping liquid, and it's hard to even breathe, let alone swallow the bitterness of his words, "But I would rather have you not say it back than hear you not mean it."

"I'm... I— Jen," you gasp out, fast to hold his hands to try to keep him down. For a reason or two, you feel like crying. Jeno feels lost. "I'm falling."

But you're not, and you don't know why you said it, but there's a galaxy in his eyes and the universe so beautifully laid down in his mind and he's pulling you close, tears in his eyes, this boy. Lee Jeno who's so in love with you, Lee Jeno who's hopelessly whipped, Lee Jeno — your sweet, sweet boy. You look up to him and shakily whispers, "Please catch me."

Jeno looks at the luminaries and wonders what it would feel like if one day he looks into the very same orbs only to find that the stars have fallen.

The wind blows gently, the coldness of the place prickling his skin, but Jeno doesn't think it's what caused the flush to rise on his cheeks. He stutters, curses a little, says again those little words and dives for a kiss — you feel like it's the best night ever; no nightmare, just pure bliss. 

You blindly walk the path inside your house, dropping your belongings on either of your sides. You try to keep your knees from buckling as you bring yourself to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes. You lean your back to the cold tile walls of your shower, feeling the rush of water that is supposed to drown your thoughts not doing anything to keep them at bay. What have I done?

Loving Jeno is easy, though, far too easy if you may. He's so full of love and in need of affection but never asks for them, and you're more than glad to give all of that to him without words needed. The days with him have been light-hearted, felt deeply nonetheless. In this little world, it's you and him, him and you, no one else. Right? Is that right? Do you promise?

Jeno knocks at your home one day, sullen and lethargic. He spreads his arms out for a hug, one you throw yourself into without hesitation. He leans into the touch, leaning down to burry his head on the crook of your neck, "Thank you, baby."

Your brows draw closer, "For what?"

"You were never mine, but you were always lonely." He suddenly says, He suddenly says, voice fading weak and unstable. There's warm tears dampening your shoulder, and he shakes ever so slightly that you panic and try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he continues, "In my twisted logic, I made myself believe that it's the same."

"What are you saying, Jen?" You laugh, a bit confused and a lot afraid. "I love you."

"No, please, don't say that," his reply baffles you. When he lets you go, Jeno has a certain saddened look in his eyes, and it feels so familiar that you should be numb to it by now. You're not, though, and so you pretend to not know where this all would lead. He pulls you in again and hugs you tighter, "Let me tell you that I love you without you answering back, please."

The boy breathes out shakily, "I want us to have at least one memory that isn't a lie."

And then Lee Jeno says goodbye.

────── ❁ ──────

Park Jisung is the clumsy florist who keeps breaking vases in the flower shop his cousin owns, just several blocks away from the kindergarten both your nephews attended. You meet him one too many times you had to pick the little boy up, and talked to him finally one fine Tuesday when you decided flowers would be nice, out of random. You become friends from then on. 

This thing you have with Jisung is something lovely, child-like, and carefree. It doesn't put any pressure on you — there are expectations, but they're all voiced out and kept healthy. You're friends — great friends, not best friends — whose dynamic is not necessarily convenient. It's safe to say that some people think you have a complicated relationship.

You think, not really. Not to the two of you, at least — Jisung just knows when you're down and in need to be left alone or cuddled, while you know when he needs to cry or if he's pushing himself to his limits. He knows what flower you hold most dear, your treasured scent, your favorite shade of yellow. You know his most loved tracks, the beat he looks the happiest humming to, the color of his dreams. It's much more simple than that — it's just that you two have fun, even with your differences, and when you're together, everything else just fades away.

You just... don't like being alone. Jisung doesn't like not having company — well, there are indeed people he doesn't want to be accompanied by, but he doesn't like being the only one walking alone in crowds of many. He doesn't make your heart skip, not really, instead it's just a warm feeling in your chest, much like home. He doesn't make you nervous — not at all, but he does make you feel safe. Comforted, even. It's the type of love you've always yearned for, the only kind of love he's comfortable with.

"You dance?" Your eyes widen in surprise, dropping your book on the table. Then you smile, "Oh? Aren't you full of surprises?" 

"Mhm, you'll see." He says with embarrassment hinting his voice, but then he stops arranging the flowers and looks at where you're sitting. "You? Aren't you full of surprises, too?"

You pick up your book, a sudden low, shrugging. "It won't be a surprise if I say now, wouldn't it?"

He just shakes his head, tries to lift the vase to the other side and accidentally knocks another one down. You laugh at him, curious at how much control he has over his body that he must be able to dance so fluidly, hit the beat like it's what he's born for, and yet he can't seem to hold a vase and not break it. Jisung giggles, taking it lightly. You wish he didn't. 

The days with Jisung are filled with your favorite bouquets and post-it notes. Each and every day, the words written inside changes from 'You did well', until it develops to 'I hope you smiled today,' 'I wish something good happened today,' and 'You're really, really pretty.' He'd take you to little uphills, asks you to teach him how to make floral crowns from wildflowers, dance with you barefoot under bright daylight. A little summer, a certain person, your most dreaded feeling of having someone mean so much that you let flowers bloom in your chest until it's so hard to breathe and you cough them up.

"My parents asked me to study dance in another country," he mumbles one day, a shaky breath leaving his lips, "Please give me a reason not to go."

"Chase your drive, Sungie," you whisper back. You lean your head further to his chest, safe and warm and fading, "I love you, so choose your dreams over me."

There's the slightest hint of betrayal in his voice, a tinge of rejection in his eyes, "If you love me, why would you make me choose?"

If you love me, why can't you choose me? You selfishly ask, the kid in you whining at the thought of being left alone. The greedy part of you begs to ask him to stay, the needy part of you wants to hug him until he's so full of you that he forgets even the bare thought of wanting anything else. The silent voice inside you, the one that learned and keeps learning, the one that could've saved you so many times if you listened to it, sighs sadly. Don't risk anyone's future for your present, it seems to say.

"Because I love myself too," you look directly to his eyes, cupping his cheeks in between your palms, "and we need to put ourselves before anybody else."

And yet again, you're starstruck by the almost golden swirls in his irises, a peek of his soul. You think his eyes are beautiful — astounding, art worthy, a sight to never get tired of. He thinks they're only beautiful because he's looking at you.

This thing with Jisung isn't something you should've let go. You shouldn't have let him go but you weren't ready and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone who held you so close beautifully. He didn't mean to, though — it was just too hard not to go overboard, and the next thing he knew, he was in love. He didn't mean to, so he walks you home the last night, hand in hand with a certain something hidden underneath his mellow smile. Jisung stands in front of you, waiting for you to open your gates, but you don't move. You stay basking in the tenderness of his gaze.

You think the little problem is that he's even more breathtaking up close and in silence, when the night feels so dead that it thrives — you feel like if you weren't so broken, if you don't keep on seeing another person when you look at him in the eyes, if you let go of the past, Jisung would be everything your heart desired. It just so happened that you two are both too infinite for forever, too broken to fix anything for the latter. Jisung was too charming — his smile was one that doesn't ask for attention but still steals it, never content with just taking your breath away so he takes with him your mind and soul.

You can't handle losing any more of yourself, though, so you smile, "Thank you for waiting."

"I have always been waiting for you," he grins shyly. You make a mental note to remember him like this — dyed locks a mess on top of his head and glasses messily perched on his nose bridge, tall and too pretty to be real, eyes so loving and expressive. There's an obvious sorrow in his voice, "Without fail, consistently, inevitably, forevermore."

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheeks, "Good night, Jisung."

The last note comes in between the pages of your notebook, a pretty pastel purple accompanied by pressed wildflowers. There, in his messy letters and colorful ink, reads a confession:

Maybe I couldn't stop myself from falling because it felt like flying with you.

You shake your head, sigh reading 'I told you not to do that'. Still, you feel a tug at your chest, a link between the two of you in the sense that you seem to be moving in synchrony with these words — Park Jisung is your last love, you swear. You shift your eyes, tired of the same chain all over again, flipping the note to read the words behind them. 

When you find the right love at the wrong time, what will you do to make it work? 

You sigh to yourself as you read the question, tracing the pristine paper with your pen, and finally, finally you smile;

Let it go. Set it free, because the greatest love of all is the one that lets you grow.

You tilt your head up, holding back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. 

────── ❁ ──────

Zhong Chenle invades your life like a hurricane of mixed emotions, a little like three months just in time when you finally decided you've had enough heartbreaks. You meet him from one of your friends, Qian Kun, and literally had to stop and wonder how in the world he managed to find this thing — you can't help it, alright? Chenle just stood silent and proud, clad in leather and rumors and reputations and reeking of expensive. He comes in the scene like thoughts as turbulent as unwanted flashbacks and as easily as finding trouble looking for the right answer when you're in a rush.

Quickly as he entered your life, he became a friend; you're too familiar with this scene, but you've had enough. You can't take any more. You've spent most of your life haunted by sugar smiles and breathy laughs and in exchange, had yourself break everything you wanted to keep intact. It doesn't matter that he's not at all what he's perceived to be, it doesn't matter that he makes your breath hitch. You don't even care what you're going against with, if it's fate or heavenly beings or the world — no more. You can't anymore.

The world is the ocean and the ocean is a God — people are mere sailors who think they're stronger than the tides, but they're not; once the waters have made their decision to kill you, there's no reason you should fear the phenomenons trying to do you harm. It seems like it's made that plan, that thing you hoped so much you wouldn't do. Chenle knows so he smiles at you brightly, "Don't you dare run away from what you're feeling."

"Else what, you gonna run after me?" You bite back just for the sake of it, laughter bubbling from your throat, "Gonna go chase me down?"

He shrugs, taking a challenge and a risk, "You better not regret."

"Absolutely fucking not." Kun hisses after you've told him what happened, months after you've started dating and you're tired of hiding it already. Your friends already tease you about getting together, anyway, so why should you even hide? Apparently, this. The profanities leaving his mouth should worry you, really, but it doesn't; not as much as his disagreement. Still, you couldn't even bother to ask him why because you see it in his eyes — you know him that much, you're familiar with that look — "You're not in love with Chenle, please, we both know this."

"I am in love with him!" You say, hurt. The look in his eyes softens, but the pain of his word doesn't, neither does his determination, "Kun, please. I didn't tell you just so you could lecture me, I told you because you're my friend! I do love him!"

"Are you, really? In love with him, you say? Completely?" Your eyes shift to the side after his statement, the lack of sarcasm and warmth in his tone both bothering you. You want to cry. When you look at Kun, you find he feels just as much. "You're not in love with him in the way he deserves."

There's a dry chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your bag, standing up with a tear slowly rolling down in your cheek. More than devastation, there's a certain withering look in your eyes. Kun tries to apologize, but you're already moving away from him. The betrayal in your voice is impossible to ignore and forget, "How dare you make accusations about how I'm feeling?"

Falling in love with Chenle wasn't in the plan; in fact, you hardly even had any plans to begin with. As another fact, the only plan was to not fall in love with anyone anymore. Plans are ever-changing things, you'd always counter, they depend on the situation. When Chenle came in your life, you figure there happened to be another shift — something significant had changed, a good change.

Maybe it is why you didn't even take Kun seriously. You've always hoped that all those lows would lead to this point, the part where there's content spreading on your chest, a feeling just as bright as the luminescent blanket of embedded diamonds and rubies, a sky full of stars. By your side, the boy looks at you with eyes shining just as much; Zhong Chenle, badly misunderstood, so truly loved. You couldn't help but pull him in a kiss — giggly and messy, chaste and ever so delicate. 

You think you could spend lifetimes just staring at him. You swore on it, really, to not be in love with him. More than anybody else, you hoped to fate that you'll never fall in love again. It's just that this person — Zhong Chenle, he has a tendency to be very addicting, and oh, how easily addicted you are. His kiss a lovely burn against your lips, his words a heavenly whisper to your ear, his existence a delightful surprise. You find it inevitable to fall because of the many similar nights before this, just weeks after you two met. Those days where you two were laughing way too hard for midnight and your heart blossomed with happiness it hasn't felt for long. It's the sweetest kind of doom.

It's doom, nonetheless. 

"With whom was your first relationship with?" Chenle suddenly asks, no hint of jealousy in his eyes, but there is, aside from pure curiosity, something else — lost, baffled, seeking an explanation for something he doesn't even think he should know. "I mean, you're mine. You're my first love, but I know I'm not yours, and I'm curious. "

"You don't even know him, Lele." You laugh, trying to hide your hesitation. The boy insists, says that he just needs a name. You roll your eyes affectionately, "Huang Renjun. He's a great guy, but timing kinda messed up."

Chenle hums appreciatively, but he stops trying to find constellations and making up shapes of his own; instead, he dives in a pool thoughts deeper than the dark. He thinks of what he doesn't know if he believes in, but he keeps his eyes up at the stars and hopes to God that his life wasn't such a movie; he stays quiet.

"Who's Jaemin, then?" The question comes, harmless but shocking nonetheless. Chenle breaks his stare from the dull-starred sky and looks at you with a smile brighter than daylight. His question makes your gut twist. "Jaemin who danced with you under the rain... Jaemin who made your day with corny jokes, with late-night talks, with coffee, with notes."

You don't reply, so he ponders some more. He thinks about walking the streets holding hands, he thinks of cheek kisses. He thinks of waking up tomorrow and doing all of that with you. He looks forward to a couple of years — maybe you'll move in together, maybe you'll share a place and clothes and everything. He thinks of counting down the memories, having lived most of his life satisfied. Chenle thinks of doing it all with you; someone who takes tragedies and turns them into masterpieces. Someone who sings sad songs with a saccharine smile.

"Jaemin with a reputation, known for all the wrong reasons..." his eyes cast down, dull and slowly piecing everything together, "Just like me."

He thinks of a vow, a promise — to the stars, till dawn do us part. He thinks of how near the sun is from rising, and he thinks of silhouette, of being hidden behind one. You don't answer until then, so he just takes it as your reply.

"You don't have to. I already know," he smiles, fingers entwining with yours. "Maybe I just hoped that I didn't have to find out from Kun."

Chenle is innocent, kind of naive. He wears his heart on his sleeves and gifts its pieces to anyone who dares to get to know him. He loves a lot — his friends, his family, stars. A person who grieves the loss of midnight too, when the stars start to fade; you. Because of that, he could forgive anything you did and would do.

It's one of his many ways of love, you see, this thing you have going on. Chenle's just like that — you never know just how much more he can give before he runs out; there's just so much of him and it's difficult to put it into words. He's shown you how he treasures relationships, how he adores everything around him in each and every time a different way and kind. He's shown you so much, all the ways he displays his affection with, this little magic trick. That's not all of it, though, and a little part of you sinks because of the fact that a lifetime will not be sufficient enough for you to know just what this love is, completely, because every passing moment, the boy falls for something; each fondness different from the lasts.

Chenle just loves like that; so much that he doesn't mind being loved for carrying pieces of another person — being adored simply because he made you remember what you didn't want to forget. He thinks, if he doesn't think it matters, it wouldn't; he prays that if he doesn't bring it up, you'd forget. He's loved you for so long but you know so little of his kind of love; ever so pure and limitless, impossible to define and dictate. 

When he holds your hands, though, you feel like it's enough — it's enough to have known slightly more than what you think you should.

"You give too much," are the only words that you were able to form. He looks at you as if to ask if you think so, and you feel the time stop for a bit when he leans his head on your shoulders, his dark locks tickling your skin. You laugh, humorless and sentimental, "Isn't it about time you'd learn to love within limits?"

"You're brilliant, you know?" He mumbles, albeit sleepily. "Kind of infinite. There are no restrictions in the love you deserve."

Something about brilliant just hits so different from beautiful — something so damning and sweet and you feel it again; just how much love you have in you, how much of it you are willing to give. Maybe boundaries really aren't your thing, maybe its the reason why you let Chenle adore you beyond what you know you can take, why you allowed him to give more than he should've given. Maybe it's why you poured affection after affection without conditions — maybe that's why you were selfish enough to love shadows. Maybe it's as most people say — you tend to burn too bright, to share too much of yourself, and not everybody can handle that. You're a bit too much for others. Maybe it's why you find yourself sitting down, pen roughly scribbling on paper.

Somewhere, there's a soul aching for your love... but no matter how much we try, we know it's not here, with me.

────── ❁ ──────

Kun doesn't knock at your door until a few weeks later, and whether it was him giving you space or him not being able to leave Chenle alone, you think of it as a blessing in disguise. It wasn't even after a week or two that you found it in you to get your life together — fake it till you make it, clean up your home, clean up your mess. You greet him with a smile on your face, tears prickling your eyes, "Come in."

Kun doesn't even say anything, he just puts the snacks he bought somewhere and crashes the sofa. He turns off the television, eyes the clearly was-messy place, and huffs at you, "It's just me. You don't have to play cool with me when you're feeling so broken."

"You're acting so much like Kim Dongyoung." You whisper just enough that he could hear before making your way to him and sobbing in his arms. Kun lets you stay like that, his hands threading your hair and affectionately patting your back, a soft 'I told you you're not ready yet' that's less scolding than it is loving. You stop crying then, just miserable sobs and sniffles, and he stands up to get you a cup of water. You look at him.

 "Thank you, Kun."

Suddenly, his not amused expression is back. He moves away a little, placing a strict space in between the two of you, and then directly looks into your eyes, "Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Were you ever gonna tell me, or was I just supposed to learn about it after you've left?"'

"Kun," you breathe deeply, "I need to."

"For who?" He asks, hoping that amongst the reasons read your name. Are you finally choosing yourself? Is it still because of other people? He wants to ask, but his voice keeps failing him and all he can whisper is words about how he's proud of you, how much you've endured, how badly he wishes to ease the pain. Kun doesn't look at you with disappointment, with hurt; he looks at you with pure utter understanding, and you find it in you, a reason to smile.

────── ❁ ──────

You can't help but reminisce things as you walk from your home to the train station, neither can you when you asked the person in charge for which train will get you out of the place the quickest. You didn't really have plans, you never did, and perhaps that's where everything starts to go wrong; you just forget things, or at least, you try to suppress them. You never tried to solve anything.

This town knew too much — there are memories of Renjun on the trail from here to the benches, flashes of Donghyuck's sly grin meeting your gaze in the reflection of the glass whenever you look at the vending machines. You feel like you've walked every street in here, hand in hand with Mark, like you've danced under all these blinking lights with Jisung, like you've been to everywhere with Chenle. There is so much to remember, and this place can't hold them all and it breaks your heart so much, knowing that many things are meant to be memories, but not all memories should be remembered. You close your eyes in silent hopes that no matter how painful, you never forget one second.

It was impossible, surely, but you think that the thought of being able to recall them completely will be enough to keep you company. Even until now, you don't really want to be alone — some people are just not meant to be by themselves, and sometimes those people aren't really good at settling down either — being one of them, you leap from one crumbling bridge to another, hoping to never feel the pain of a great fall. There was never an end where you didn't. 

Waiting for the train to board, you look back to a certain place in time. The one where you think everything began.

Your first love is something you remember vividly. It came in the form of childhood crushes, wildflowers, and ruined playgrounds. It's a coincidental meeting; you were running away from your house, tired of the yelling and the crashing and the constant fear in your little heart, while he was sneaking away from his house to play more because he's a 'rebel'. Your first heartbreak takes some years forward, years just a little far from now even if it feels like it's been forever standing here, waiting for an uncertain return.

Until now, you think that it was that night under a rusty slide and above dry leaves when your life started to change.

You meet again with Na Jaemin just minutes before your train arrives, a brief eye-contact and a skip of heart and it doesn't take so much for you to know; those eyes, that smile, the red string sitting too tightly on his wrist. You remember what promise that meant — you know that, right? The thing they say about red strings, how they connect people? — and what childish hope that strand held — if we wear this, we would always find our way to each other, because we have a red string connecting us now! You remember, you do, really — of course, you do; how you could you ever forget him? Surely, maybe he's grown a lot, and everything about him has changed, he even dyed his soft hair blue. You're certain, though, you knew that it's him — maybe the red string worked. Maybe it's the butterfly effect and the heartbreaks your heart and several others nursed. Maybe it's the look in his eyes that remained soft and sweet and honest.

You miss your train, but you can't help but feel like you're just in time.

"Jae—" you choke, eyes wide and shocked, "Jaemin!"

────── ❁ ──────

Na Jaemin meets you again on a busy train station, three years ago after he just came back in town for a visit. He remembers the punch in his gut at the sight of your face, the red string delicately wrapped on your wrist, far too small but still so beautiful. He remembers the sullen look on your face, the realization dawning on him that you're late for your class and he chuckles; you never really made it in time for school, even as a child. The rain pours and he has to fiddle his bag for his umbrella, opens it so that he could let you in. When he takes a step closer though, you were talking to another boy, and Jaemin thinks he's the one a little late.

He comes across you a lot of times next to that, too, but never when you're alone. He thinks, his timing is a mildly off as well. Every time he tries to come and talk to you — when you were sitting alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, inside the coffee shop, in front of his niece's kindergarten — there was always somebody else. It reminds him of back then, one of your conflicts as you started to grow up and apart; the many times you needed each other and the other person is too caught up needing someone else. Jaemin thinks that the beat you both are dancing to is a little too delayed.

Jaemin remembers meeting a boy just as blue as him, a face a little familiar, smiling longingly at the two dancing under the moon. He remembers eyes as regretful as his, he remembers a smile, "They look so happy, don't they?"

None of that matters, though, not when he's pulling you into a hug and dragging you to a rooftop, not when you're several floors off the ground and beside you is Na Jaemin, sitting side by side, with eyes that take you back to the past and makes you hope for an unbroken present.

When you two stand under the bright sky and you stare at him instead of gushing about flying, Jaemin realizes just how drastically different this present is. If the look in your eyes says anything, he's certain that you feel the same.

You have just always been waiting for this moment, you know? And you missed your train, but you were just in time to meet Jaemin, and the rush of affection cleared all the lines you had to cross and everything was light and filled with teary laughter before right now. You've had it planned, the both of you, multiple scenarios where you two could meet again — none of them are this way. It's awkward and tense and the other feels so far away; this wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Jaemin could leave. He should leave, he figures, thinking that it's always been what he's best at. It's not working, anyway; maybe it was him being gone and you going through so much, maybe it's life knocking some sense in the both of you, but none of that matters — it's not working. It's just like this, relationships — two people could start at the same point and still go separate ways. It's not meant to be. He could leave, forget, maybe he'd find enough courage that he marks this chapter closed and finally, finally stop thinking of childhood feelings and even the grown-up ones. He could find a new beginning in this chapter closed.

That's the way it goes, anyway, right? Some ends feel like new starting points. Jaemin could drop it here. He could make it easier for himself, he'd be able to say this isn't working and he'd be back to his normal self; the one that looks at you and looks for you in a way that he did before falling in love. He could be young and free, away from untold reasons and unsaid apologies and undelivered feelings. He could make it easier for himself.

But to hell with ease, he didn’t want to.

"Remember, back then, we would always sneak out to play in the rain?" Jaemin is the first to break the silence, "And we look at flowers... you used to cry at everything back then!"

You flick his arm at that, and he sits on the floor next to the railing because he couldn't hold himself up anymore, laughing. Even until now, this still feels like a very vivid dream. You spend the night trying to believe that this is reality — Jaemin does the same.

Fate has a tendency to bring people apart and put them back together again, so you can't really help it that Jaemin was months and weeks away from leaving the town again. There was a point where you cursed time — you just found him, and now, why is he being taken away from you? There was a time where Jaemin thought you weren't meant to be — if you are, then why do you keep on being forced apart?

He thinks he really should stop thinking this way. It's just something really odd, this love stuff, because it's never really just one thing but rather a couple of many nothings to make up an entirely different, supposedly magical occurrence. Love is never just love — it's oftentimes euphoria with even the slightest glimpse of devastation. Jaemin doesn't think he understands why the both of you try so hard to make it easy — no matter how difficult, he knows it's worth it, knows that he'll fight for it.

Jaemin spends his last day in this place smiling, cupping your cheeks as he stands in the middle of a busy train station yet again, this time, with you in his reach. The skies are dark but his smile is bright, and it burns brighter when you flush after asking him why he's staring at you so hard. The boy cooes, "Perfect should try to be you."

"If perfect was me, perfect would be a mess," you quickly counter even through you being too flustered. In your absolute anxiety, you think that everyone is looking and judging you. With the way Jaemin is staring at you, you don't think you'd mind even if they whisper things so mean.

"A lovable mess," he raspily whispers, sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. Jaemin smiles, "I can't make this up. I fall for you several times a day, repeatedly."

Jaemin lets go of your face and dips in to kiss your forehead, and then he giddily messes your hair. You can't even bring it in you to get mad — you have several minutes and you have so much to say and the time is too little, your words are so limited. Jaemin asks for your hands and leaves a red string, identical to the ones you gave each other as children but bigger and adorned with the tiniest butterfly charm. You look at him, confused, "What's this?"

"A farewell gift, and something I'll definitely come back for," he flicks your forehead as if to say it's so obvious, and you can't help but feel like time is running out all over again. You breathe, unsteady and ragged, a desperate call of his name, "Na Jaemin?"

He doesn't answer, but he wipes the tears streaming down your face and he hums.

"I'm so happy that the ending is me and you." You finally confess, taking him aback. You smile, sweet and cruelly beautiful, brutally emotional, and if there were no children around and Jaemin was a tad bit more shameless, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He couldn't, though, so he just gapes and stares and listens.

"I'm so happy that it's back to you."

As the train boards, you find yourself realizing how tough the world gets — the lovely, sinking feeling lingering in your chest as you recall the highs and the lows of life and fate.

You've had far too many great loves in your life, so much that using the term would probably not sound special anymore to other people — but they're different, each one of them, the way they loved distinct at least — and this one, just this one, Na Jaemin, by far, is the greatest.

The end is sweet and lovely, if a bit sour and bitter. The end is where you hopefully find yourself.

────── ❁ ──────

"Mom and dad keeps on fighting. " your nephew murmurs under his breath, one sunny Friday spent walking on streets that are cooling down, on the way to what must be the happiest place on Earth for a kid. "Do you think they don't love each other anymore?"

You nervously scratch your nape, thinking of easy ways to reply to the question. You think of your childhood, how you spent most of it dreaming of love. How until today, the thought of it still haunts you. You just shrug, "People just have some bad days, but look, they're still together, right?" he nods, and you feel a blossom of proudness in your chest, "They love each other, and that's why they had you."

The kid suddenly frowns, "Why do people get together, then?"

You halt your steps before continuing, on the verge of asking why he asked that question before you realize that it's your nephew, anyway. He loves holding mature conversations even if he doesn't understand anything, he likes asking away and being taken seriously, like an adult. You chuckle, "Uhm, because people make each other happy!"

"Why don't you have someone, then?" You don't know how to answer his question, and neither did you expect it. He looks too interested to be brushed off. "You said people make other people happy!"

"Hm, well, I do have someone," you think of sugar smiles and giggly kisses as you say those words. There's a comforted exhale leaving your lips as you look down on the kid, "But, he's not the only reason I'm happy... I'm happy with myself, without him."

"Do you not love him, then? Because you're happy without him?"

"I love him, I do, a lot! We went through a lot to find each other again," you smile kindly, patient. "But it's a different kind of love, just like how it is a different kind of happy with him."

His lips jut out, wondering about things not so completely disconnected from his first questions. He then sighs as if he's carrying the weight of the world, "If you had to find each other again, it means one of you left. Why did one of you leave if you love each other, then?"

Why?

"Well, you see, maybe..." there's no answer pouring from your lips, but emotions threaten to spill from your eyes and then down your cheeks. The child won't understand your tears, though, so you think of familiar faces and the one you entwined your fingers with, like home. You keep your head held high. "Maybe it's so that we could find each other again in a time where we would be better versions of ourselves."

It's not enough to sate his curious mind. "But if he's almost always never here, how are you supposed to know if he's the love you're supposed to have, then?"

"The love I'm meant to find has always been here, within me," you say genuinely, and the child, ever so confused but curious, remains silent to understand. You shake your head a bit, "but with him, this love grows bigger and bigger, and it helps us cross any kind of distance between us."

Finally satisfied, he stops asking questions at the sight of his most favorite place, muttering incomprehensible gibberish as he tugs you closer to the entrance. Then you think of how happy you are to be standing under this sky, above this ground — you think of the butterfly effect, all the little moments and major events, and everything that passed and will forever remain remembered. You think of all that lead you to this.

You look at the reflection of yourself from the glass walls of the candy shop, and you couldn't help a smile. The look in your eyes screams dreamy as you push open the door. This is it — you're on the way to loving yourself. 

Welcome home.

[kaznejis]

I choose you- Marco Peña x reader

@rayof-sunnie said: Hi! I absolutely love your Marco fanfics and I hope to see more of them, since I literally fell in love with him. I was wondering if you can write a fanfic where the reader (a singer) knows Marco is falling out of love with her and she lets him go and it’s all sad and angst but bam he realizes she’s the one after she sings I choose you by Alessia Cara. Sorry if it’s too much to ask

A/N: Thankyou so much for sending this prompt! I’ve noticed this is a recurring quote during requests and I just want to say that no request is ever too much, I enjoy writing and I love turning your prompts into something real! <3

Sorry for the wait on this one, I had a first draft that I wrote about 1200 words of but then ended up scrapping it- so here’s the second draft!

Word Count: 2820 words

Feel free to send in any prompts! 

High school relationships don’t always last. It’s what the people around you had said for years- their advice was always to save relationships for college because then the two of you would have a better chance at surviving the real world. You’d promise to stick to this, going to the lengths of keeping to yourself so that you wouldn’t ever be enticed. 

But then, Marco came to your school. 

Obviously, you hadn’t jumped straight into it there and then. The two of you had been mere acquaintances at first; nothing but polite smiles in the hallway and casual conversation if you were seated beside each other. Marco had been focusing on sport and Elle Evans at the time, so nothing happened between the two of you. 

Though you did think the guy was hot- you couldn’t deny that. With his dark curly hair, broad muscles and smiles to die for; what wasn’t there to like? You brushed it off as just a small interest though due to the whole, you know, saving yourself until college thing. 

Nevertheless, Marco’s sort of relationship with Elle quickly crashed to the ground almost as soon as it had started- leaving the boy devastated and confused. This is where you came into the picture, going from an outlined figure in the background to the centre point of the illustration. 

It had been like any other day: walk to school, grab essentials from your locker, go to class. Despite this, an interruption came in the pursuit to said class. Marco, leant against his locker with his head resting on the cool metal. 

“Hey, uh, are you okay?”

“What?” Marco’s head shot up, his hair a wild mess as he turned to look at you, “Oh, hey Y/N.” 

“Hey,” You smiled slightly before repeating your previous statement, “Are you okay?”

Marco turned to lean his back against the locker and practically crumpled into it before releasing a heavy breath out of his nose, “I think everyone in this school is aware of what happened.”

“Yeah,” You coughed out as you lent against the locker beside his, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Don’t be, I’m better off without her.”

“Well, at least you're staying confident and optimistic?”

“Yeah,” He laughed, it looked like he hadn’t done that in a while, “It’s the only way to stay afloat.”

You nodded, pursing your lips as you stared at the sad boy beside you, “Do you want to skip class and grab a coffee?”

“Sure.”

And that is where it all began.

-

It looked like a whirlwind had swept through your dorm room as you rushed to find the bracelet Marco had gifted you for your previous birthday- the two of you were going on a date, something that you hadn’t been able to do in forever due to the stress of college and separation in general. It was weird though, you and Marco had attended the same college therefore causing you to be relieved that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be necessary. 

Despite this, you felt like Marco was far away and not in the vicinity of a 5 minute walk across campus.

At the start of the school year, you and Marco had been attached at the hip- meeting before and after classes, sleeping in each other’s room most nights, doing homework/studying and just generally being together. Eventually, the stress of exam season got to the both of you and seeing each other every day turned to seeing each other once a week. 

But now you were just confused, exam season had ended weeks ago but at this point you and Marco saw each other once or twice every two weeks. So, you swallowed your pride and arranged a romantic night out consisting of a candle lit dinner.

Turning in the mirror and running your eyes up and down your outfit- you decided that you looked good. After weeks of wearing nothing but sweatpants and oversized hoodies, wearing a flattering dress was exactly the confidence boost you needed; seeing Marco’s reaction would only fuel that. For the date itself you’d decided on a small Italian restaurant only a few minutes walk from campus, after that the two of you would stroll leisurely back to campus before returning to one of your respective dorms where you would spend the night together. A perfect, fool proof plan. 

At least, that’s what you had thought. 

-

The most essential factor for a successful date with your boyfriend…is that said boyfriend actually shows up. 

This is the thought you mused to yourself in a burst of sarcasm as you curled into your stupidly thin coat on a bench in front of the restaurant you had arranged to meet Marco at- 40 minutes ago. Exhaling harshly, you hauled yourself up from the bench and did nothing but stare up at the sky as thunder crackled from above. At that moment, you made a decision- one that did not make your dorm the desired location.

Embarrassment filled every fibre of your being as you trudged through the halls of the college dorms completely alone wearing a tight dress and heels. Once you reached the dorm in question, you rapped loudly on the door (which earned you a number of dirty looks) and waited for the person on the other side of the door to answer. 

“Hello, Who’s there?” A voice called sleepily from the other side of the door as it opened, “Oh...hey Y/N.”

“Marco,” You pushed past him and walked into the room, moving to grab a fluffy towel, “You better have a great excuse for what happened tonight.”

As you made an attempt to wring out your soaked hair, Marco went and sat back down on the messy bed at the side of the room- he must’ve been asleep, “What do you mean ‘what happened tonight?’ I’ve been asleep since 7, you know college has me exhausted.”

You stopped your frantic scrubbing and paused, letting the towel drop to the floor, “What?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

“You don’t know what you were supposed to do tonight,” You wiped a hand over your face in disbelief, “What we were supposed to do.”

Marco froze, chewing on his fingernail as he visibly tried to remember. “No, I’m sorry-”

“We had plans,” You snapped, causing Marco to snap his mouth shut, “Solid plans for an actual night out for the first time in months.”.

Realisation dawned upon Marco’s face as his whole figure slumped, though his actions showed no signs of regret, “I completely forgot.”

“Yeah, I assumed that.”

Marco huffed loudly, before leaning back on his elbows, “Y/N, I-”

“How long is this going to go on for?”

“What?” Marco raised both eyebrows.

“How long are we going to go on like this?” Despite the sadness you felt your eyes were completely dry, “How long are we going to be in this dying relationship where we never talk and never see each other,” You let out a deadly laugh, “I mean, I haven’t even said I love you in weeks let alone touch you.”

Marco looked down, unable to meet your eyes, “I noticed.”

You had been ready to go off on another rant, but the lack of empathy and straight up emotions in Marco’s voice left you mystified- leaving you feeling defeated, “Me too.”

“What have you noticed?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

Marco didn’t reply. He just stared blankly at the wall behind you, his face portraying no emotion. That was all you needed in order to nod numbly before hightailing out of there. As the door slammed shut behind you- all you could do was slide down the wall beside it and stare at the bright red heels adorning your feet. 

-

Although not a single emotion slipped out during the initial breakup, the fallout hit you during the following weeks. You did nothing but eat, sleep and go to class; the first two were still very much lacking. To say the least, the people around you were worried- some would pop their head into your room every now and then only to find you curled up in a ball beneath the covers. 

Marco, on the other hand, had seemed completely fine; hanging out with friends and keeping up with his usual routine of work and play- at least, that is what your friends had told you. It was almost like he didn’t care, that he was happy you had ended things. A small part of you knew that wasn’t true though. You knew Marco, having seen him at his lowest and highest points- you knew that he hid his sadness behind a mask of either anger or pure joy. This instance was obviously the latter. 

Stumbling out of the shower you had finally managed to drag yourself into, you pulled on an old hoodie as you walked towards the exit; where a notice board stood. 

There, on the board, was an advertisement for a Karaoke Night in a local bar. 

This is exactly what you needed. A chance to let go, sing silly songs and possibly even meet someone new. You would do anything to fill the crater in your heart that Marco had left behind. So, you texted all your friends (who were really just glad to see you enthusiastic about something) and invited them to go with you- it took place that very night, meaning you only had a number of hours before it began. 

-

The bar was a small, hole in the wall venue that students of the college tend to frequent regularly. Despite the majority of patrons not yet being of legal age, the workers found their way around these guidelines and supplied students with the majority of their alcoholic intake. 

“It’s really busy here tonight,” Molly, one of your close friends, spoke as you entered the main area, “You sure you still want to sing?”

Shooting her an amused look, you followed the group over to the bar, “That doesn’t faze me, it means more people can appreciate my gorgeous voice.”

“As someone who has never heard it- I’m not sure about that one.”

The whole group burst into laughter, you just shook your head and let out a small huff yourself, “I cannot wait to prove you wrong.” 

As each of you settled into a seat on a high-table close to the bar, you all broke into conversation as you fed off of the energy the bar supplied. For once, you weren’t curled into your bed antagonising over what went wrong in your relationship with Marco or sitting in class unable to concentrate because your ex was all you could think about. For the first time in over a month, you felt really great. 

Of course, that was abruptly cut short. 

“Y/N,” One of your friends gasped, staring at something behind you with wide eyes, “Don’t turn around but Marco just walked in.”

Your entire body seized up, a cold wave of shock trickled down your body, “You’re joking, right?”

She shook her head, sympathy painted her features before she reached forward and squeezed your hand, “Don’t even give him the benefit of looking at you.” All you could do was nod, blinking through the panic that was quickly rising. 

“Mhm,” Molly nodded, rubbing your shoulder, “Don’t even talk to him and then blow him away with your singing.”

“Yeah!” A few girls at the table cheered around you, “You’re still going to do that right?”

“No going back.” You twisted your mouth into a nervous smile as the group surrounding you cheered and held up their respective drinks. Taking the girls advice, you didn’t even look at Marco- which was extremely nerve wracking as you had no idea what he looked like or what state he was in. Your night went from being calm and a relief from drama to a tense and gnawing situation as you fought to not look over at Marco; wherever he was. 

-

“The karaoke event is beginning soon! If you want to take part just come up here and grab the mic from whoever is on stage.”

“That’s your queue.” Molly squealed, shaking your shoulder excitedly. 

“Not yet.” You laughed, moving away from her teasingly, “I have to work up my confidence first.”

“Hey,” Molly shoved at your shoulder a lot softer this time, “You’ll be great, don’t even think about Marco.”

“How do you always know what to say?”

Molly shrugged, a smile crinkling at her eyes, “I guess I’m just a great friend.”

“Oh, shut up.” You both broke into laughter and continued to talk until the first act came onto the stage, which you all turned to watch and cheer on. The event had a mix of talent, to say the least- some were extremely talented and left the crowd erupting into cheers, though some were obviously there as a dare or joke. 

“Who wants to come up next?” The current singer behind the microphone grinned as they held it before them. 

“I’ll go!” You yelled without thinking twice, having drunk a little bit of liquid since the original announcement- your friends around you cheered for what felt like the millionth time but the most interesting point was the head of black hair across the room that whipped around in shock at the sound of your voice. 

As you clambered up the stairs towards the stage, the guy manning the sound beckoned you over and asked for your song choice, “I choose you by Alessia Cara.” You grinned as the guy gave you an encouraging thumbs up. Grabbing the microphone, you stood in the middle of the stage and waited for your queue to begin singing. 

-

Relishing in the cheers the crowd gifted you with, you grinned nervously as you walked back to the table; laughing as your friends pulled you into their arms and shouted numerous compliments at you. 

“Thanks guys,” You smiled, allowing yourself to breath now that you weren’t under the bright lights of the stage, “Told you I could sing.”

“You sure can,” Molly laughed brightly, slight shock showing in her features, “You should do that more.”

Before you could reply, an unusually timid voice sounded behind you, “Hey Y/N.”

Slowly, you turned to face Marco who stood behind you- he had a nervous look on his face as he wrung his hands in circles and silently begged you. 

“Marco.”

“Can I talk to you?”

Oh, hell no.” Molly barked, stepping in front of you, “You’ve already broken her hear once.”

“No, Molly,” You pulled her back, smiling at her reassuringly, “I’ll be okay.”

Marco nodded before leading you out of the building as you walked together side by side- it felt weird for him to not have his hand on the small of your back like he usually would in places like that, which only drove in the fact that you were broken up. 

“You were amazing up there.”

“Thanks,” You smiled tightly, hugging yourself with your arms with the same enthusiasm. 

“Y/N-” 

“What do you want Marco?”

He frowned at you, his eyes teared up slightly, “You didn’t give me the chance to speak, Y/N.”

“What?”

“When you said that I didn’t love you anymore,” He gulped and looked down, “You left before I could prove you wrong.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, “Your reaction was enough of an answer.”

He just shook his head, smiling slightly at your antics, “I left you alone after that because I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me...but then I saw you singing tonight and I realised that you are the one for me.”

“Marco-” Your voice wobbled as you looked on at the man before you.

“Please let me speak,” Marco laughed, “I never stopped loving you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way. The stress just got to me and I shouldn’t have let you be a victim of that too.”

“It’s okay.”

“No,” Marco wrapped both of your hands in his, he was begging now, “It isn’t and if you let me I will never shut you out like that again.”

“Really?” You hiccupped slightly, tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Yeah.” Marco whispered softly, letting go of your hands to wipe the tears coating your face, “Unless you realised that you’re better off without me and if so-”

“Shut up.” You sighed before reaching forward and pressing a much needed kiss to his lips. Finally, you thought.

“Fuck, I missed that.”

“Just that?”

“No,” He laughed, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, “I missed everything about you. I know I’ve seemed happy but I really wasn’t.”

You smile sadly at him as you snaked your arms around his neck, “I never stopped loving you too.”

-

If you would like to be added to my taglist for any future posts- please let me know!

“Good.” And the two of you met in a kiss once again as a nearby street lamp illuminated the night-cold air surrounding you.

[jj-bxby]

Where Do We Go? |Chapter One| JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary - Y/N is a Mainlander who has just moved to The Cut. When she meets her new neighbor, she just may have found the family she’s been searching for, and more.

gif credit @toesure

Warnings - None

Word count - 1.8k

A/N - This is the first fanfic I’ve written in about 3 years, so I genuinely hope you all like it! Gimme all of the three C’s: comments, concerns... cuestions. This is only the first part of the series, so if you would like to be tagged, just ask!

It’s never easy to start something over, especially when that ‘something’ happens to be your entire life. 

If given the option, you would have left your home a long time ago, but there's only so much that a 17-year-old can do on her own. You smile drunkenly as you feel the summer sun shining on your skin, wind whipping your hair around your face wildly. The scent of the briny sea lingering in your nostrils as you pull into the road leading to your new home. 

Outer Banks is supposed to be Paradise On Earth, and you can see why. After only being here for a few hours, you have already decided that you wouldn't really mind if you never leave this island again. A life on your own is what you’d always dreamed of, and you’re still a little dazed at the fact that it's finally your reality. After all of the sleepless nights consisting of fights, double shifts at the hotel near your house, and what seemed like an entirety of planning, you can finally go off on your own adventure.

You pull your car into the drive of the new home. Your new home. Cutting the ignition, you hop out of the beat-up Jeep and begin unloading your suitcases to bring inside. Off in the distance, you spot a group of kids that seemed to be around your age, all dancing to a beat blaring from one of their speakers. Beer cans were seized in each of their hands, and a joint was fixed between the lips of one boy. They all were giggling and chanting as a brunette boy tried to chug his drink, the booze dribbling out of the sides of his mouth and onto the grass. The happy sight made you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You were such a straight-edge compared to these teenagers, never having had more than a sip of your mother’s wine while she wasn’t looking. Seeing them all with broad smiles plastered on their faces made you anxious, but yet something within you yearned to join them. To spin and howl and beam with all of them until the day turned into night, and the night turned into dawn. Maybe you would be able to fit in here after all, even if it takes some smoothing of your rough edges.

The group all looked in your direction after the dark-haired girl pointed you out, all of them pausing their twirling and jumping to acknowledge the new girl. They all give you a look of friendliness once your eyes meet, but the blonde with the joint flashed you a big smile and waved his entire arm at you, clearly wanting to be the center of attention. You felt your cheeks turn a shade crimson when you realized they were looking at you, but you give them a grin as you wave back before returning to pull all of your bags up to the front porch. You turned back to get one last look at the teenagers before you had to set foot in your house. The set seemed to have realized that the new neighbor may not want to hear their noisiness, as they had pulled their speaker and cooler a little ways away to the dock near a house, which you assumed had to belong to at least one of them. 

Turning back to face your new front door, you took a deep breath to still your mind. This is it, this is your new beginning. 

•

Okay, so unpacking is pretty damn boring as it turns out. And honestly, with weather this nice, how can I be expected to stay focused on a task that’s just so dull? I, at least, got my bags inside and some clothes placed in drawers, but it didn’t take long before my mind wandered and I step out into the backyard. This house may have seen some better days, but the view is to die for. Living life on a lake may not be ideal for everyone, but it is for me. Fishing, hammocks, and laying on a boat on a sunny day are all I could ever ask for. Even though I may not have a boat yet, I do have a hammock, and I’ll be damned if those aren’t good for some afternoon and I-have-a-lot-of-shit-to-do naps! I spot a couple of trees a few yards away from my new home to set up my new napping spot. After I finish tying off the support ropes into sturdy(ish) knots, I crawl into the netted bed, only needing steadying myself by flinging my arms around once (which, might I add, is quite good by my standards). Finally being able to rest my body after all of the moving and anxiety of the day feels so lovely. With the glow of the soft evening sun warming my skin in small beams through the tree leaves, I hardly notice how heavy my eyelids become, and definitely don’t mind when I drift off into sleep. 

My dream is filled with the small party of teens from earlier today, but this time I’ve joined them. Now, I’m jumping and cackling with all of them while sneakily stealing the snapback off of one of the boy’s heads. I’m giggling as I toss my arm around the dark-haired girl and blonde boy, turning to give him a cheeky smile as he looks to me. Suddenly, his face is all I see. 

“Hi… Uh, hey? You awake?”

I rush to stand up and immediately regret it. As I try to get up, I end up flailing like a fish and tumbling out of the hammock, falling onto my back and groaning. I look up to see where the voice came from, and find blue eyes piercing into my own.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you like that. Here, can I help you up?” The boy asks, extending his hand to me. I gladly accept the help and get to my feet. I see that it’s now dark out and the stars are lighting up the night sky. “Again, I’m really sorry I scared you. But maybe be more careful next time getting outta that hammock, yeah? You kinda looked like a fish flopping out of water,” the boy chuckled, running his hand through his hair. Is it me being tired or… is he being extremely cute? 

I gave him a little smile as my cheeks flush with color. “It’s alright, I’m not broken or anything. But, I do think that the least you can do for so rudely interrupting my nap is telling me your name.”

“Oh right,” the blonde chuckles, ”I’m JJ. My friends and I are actually throwing a kegger tonight at the boneyard, and I was trying to be neighborly and invite you. You know, make friends and all? You seem about our age, sixteen or seventeen, right? Life here is much easier with friends, you know. Oh!” JJ exclaims, “Do you know where the boneyard is?” He questions. When I shake my head at him, he grins at me mischievously. “Shame. Guess I’ll have to drag you there so you can join in. But first, I’ve gotta get your name.” 

“Y/N,” I respond while smoothing down my hair and picking a few pieces of dirt from it. “But ‘The Boneyard’ sounds pretty ominous, what kinda place are you taking me to? And I don’t even know you or your friends, really. So how do I know you’re not just kidnapping me?”

JJ reaches over and pulls a small twig out of my hair. “Well, Y/N, I don’t know you. How do I know you aren’t some kind of axe murderer? Besides, do I look like I need to kidnap a girl just to get her attention?” JJ asks me with a smug look on his face.

“Touché, JJ. I guess I can come to this ‘boneyard’ with you.” JJ holds his hand out to me for a high-five, grinning wildly. I roll my eyes and slap his hand weakly.

“Wow, I literally just felt myself become depressed from that high-five.”

I give him a little shove on the shoulder and start to walk ahead of him. “So, ya gonna take me to this “Boneyard,” or what?”

“Yes, however, you are going the exact wrong way.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon, doll.” JJ takes my small hand into his and starts off towards the Boneyard. From being a few steps behind him, I can just make out the outlines of JJ’s shoulder blades peeking through the sides of his cut-off tee. The heat rose to my cheeks, realizing that this incredibly attractive boy is now taking me to meet his – likely – equally attractive friends, and he’s a major flirt. How in the hell am I going to keep up with this man? Figuratively and literally, his legs are way longer than mine, and I’m practically stumbling over my own two feet just trying to keep the same pace as him.

“So, Y/N, you’re from the mainland, yeah?” The boy questioned, looking over his shoulder to check on me as I nodded to him. “What in the hell made you move to The Cut?”

“Um, well, that’s a bit of a long story as to why I moved. But, what’s The Cut? Is that what you call it here?”

“Well, The Cut is the south side of the island, its where all of us who’re in the working class live, The Pogues, if you will. Figure Eight is where all of the Kooks come from. Y’know, the ones who sit around and play with Daddy’s Money all goddamned day,” JJ spat out the last part. “I’m just wondering why you would choose to move to our side, especially when you had a choice in the matter. I grew up in The Cut — All of the pogues did. Why not go full Kook?”

“Well, back on the mainland I was from a working-class family. I dunno, I wouldn’t have fit in with all of the mansions, and country clubs, and board shorts, I don’t think.” I shrugged my shoulders at him, “I wasn’t made for that kind of life.”

JJ nodded understandingly before beaming at me, “Well, I think you’re going to fit in quite well here, Y/N.” The boy stopped walking and I came to stand at his side, our shoulders brushing against each other. “Welcome to the Boneyard, babe.”

It truly was a sight to see. Teens were sat on fallen driftwood, all huddled around different bonfires, red solo cups in hands. Odd mixes of sunburned kids, girls dressed in oversized tees and jean shorts, preppy-clothed boys all mingled together, seeming to put aside any inequalities just for the night. People drifted from group to group, some gathered at the keg, and some simply standing and chatting as they drank. I grinned at the view ahead, knowing this was only the first of many parties to attend. I look to my side to see JJ’s blue eyes focused on me, and I tried to swallow down the fluttering feeling in my chest.

“Let’s go warm up, yeah?”

•

@midnightmagicmusings

[kashimos-hajime]

soldier | amaranthine (1/6) | b.b.

summary: a boy and a girl went off to war. they fell in love and the devil laughed.

WARNINGS: swearing, MAJOR angst, more fluff than usual wow, heckie doo dah they kiss, blood and vomit mentions, a lot of pain, guns, needles, trains pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 7.5k

a/n: written for @the-omni-princess​ and their writing challenge! i really couldn’t help it, i loved bucky and this reader so much i turned it into a series. my prompt was soldier by fleurie. gif not mine. this series will have a happy ending ON GOD

amaranthine masterlist

Head in the dust, feet in the fire Labour on that midnight wire Listening for that angel choir You got nowhere to run

Sunlight filters through dust and Bucky Barnes thinks it’s too fucking sunny for a day in the trenches. His feet blister as he shifts against the wet mud wall. His stomach is hollow and he closes his eyes. Chains wrap around his bones, tying him to his mud post. Mud caked beneath his nails and a strange crackling feeling festering between his legs and his gut, Bucky Barnes tries to sleep for the first time in three days. All he can feel is the mud through his soaked uniform. Yesterday, it rained like Hell’s flames had reached earth, and beneath molding wood, Bucky had tried to keep his soldiers as warm as he could.

He can’t remember the last time he was dry.

“Sarge, it’s your turn,” a soldier calls and his eyes open as he raises his head from the mud wall. Dried mud crumbles from his head and he grabs his helmet, wedges it beneath his arm and lets his muscles scream. His stomach wails and his head spins when he stands but he blinks the dust away and instead sends a nod to the soldier who begins to lead him through the maze. Hand dragging along the crumbling trench wall, he heads through the pits he knows too well to where the rest of the 107th are waiting. They mumble him greetings as he walks between their legs and bodies, some of them groaning when he steps on mud that leaks out dirt water. They’ve yet to see them yet, then. 

Every soldier that’s gone in has come out remarkably brighter, and these men look more ashen than death.

He doesn’t know what to expect. Suddenly this medical corp was doing a standard health check while not in combat, and safe to say, it raised Bucky’s suspicions. He continues walking and walking, his blisters bleeding and he’s sure he has some trench foot or some other shit. His feet have been swimming in water and mud for days.

His eyes scan the back of the soldier’s head. Clean helmet, new uniform and boots. Lucky him.

“They’ll take good care of you, Sarge,” the soldier announces all sudden-like and Bucky’s head rings. “Get you into right fighting shape.” 

From then, it’s a blur. Hands take him and pass him on to other hands. They take off his clothes, pour warm water over his head and clean him inch by inch. The water turns dark with red and brown when they’re done and he’s sure he can feel the lice in his hair jumping ship before they show him to another tent and then another, each one doing something different. 

The last tent is when his mind finally plays catch up. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” a voice calls as his blue eyes drift warily around him. Beside him are other soldiers, countless rows of them. Some of them are bleeding through their bandages, there are three crowded around one bed playing cards, and he’s alone in his bed. He glances down at his hands, tough with calluses and scrubbed clean of dirt before raising his head. 

“That’s me.”

“Perfect.” 

The voice. His eyes find the voice and then he sees her. Her mouth moves and he hears her say her name, but all he can think of is one thing: angel. She isn’t wearing white, and she doesn’t have wings or a halo. Instead, she has dark half-moons imprinted on her face and messy hair and a fixed smile, and she’s anything but an angel, but it’s the only word Bucky can use to describe her. 

She has the inexplicable draw, and when he blinks, a little too stunned for words, her fixed smile softens.

He sits up a little straighter, and his heart beats a little louder, and for the first time in days, weeks, months, Bucky Barnes doesn’t feel the cold or the wet or the pain.

“Ma’am.” He clears his throat and she laughs as she sets down a tray of food in his lap. His hands instinctively reach to grab and when her fingers brush his, a jolt sends shivers up his spine. She’s the warmest thing he’s touched in days. The woman wears a uniform similar to his with tough stains along her front and in the creases of her jacket and when she bends over to pull the blanket away from his feet, he can spot the dirty rags stuffed into her pockets. A trained nurse, doctor maybe. “Ma’am, you don’t need to worry—”

“You were written down as potentially suffering from trench foot, Sergeant. I’m just going to take a look, treat it, and then I’ll be on my way,” she says, her voice lilting and soft, different than the sound of screams that seem to echo from tents away, the sound of soldiers cheering whenever they win a game of cards.

Bucky looks down at the tray of food. A bowl of hot soup, dry bread with cheese and a steaming cup of coffee has never looked so delicious. As he picks up the spoon to dip into the soup, he glances at the nurse who takes hold of his ankle. Quickly grabbing a hold of his tray, he steadies it and she sends him an apologetic look down the way. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He smiles and his face stretches strangely. 

It occurs to Bucky he hasn’t smiled in ages, and the woman’s tiny smile in return is enough for him to keep his own grin going.

“Where are you from?” he asks even though it’s painfully obvious. He only speaks because it’s almost humiliating to eat and watch her inspect his feet, especially when he can occasionally catch the glances she sends his way; it’s almost as if she hates the silence as much as he does.

“South London,” she says, slowly setting one foot down. “They soaked your feet, correct?”

“They did. Never been so dry.” She chuckles and the sound is music to Bucky’s ears as she sets down the other foot. “I’m alright to leave, ma’am?”

“You need to be treated first,” she cuts him off, shooting him a narrowed glare. “Talcum powder is extremely helpful. It’ll keep your feet dry for longer and reduce the chafing between your socks and your feet.”

“A miracle.”

“Hardly.” She sends him a quick glance to see if he’s eating before beginning to pat the powder down over his skin. “You need to keep your feet as dry as possible, and expose them to the air, or you’ll be losing more than skin.”

“Hard to do in the mud, ma’am,” he says with a shrug, chugging down his coffee and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she pats white dust over his other foot. He wiggles his toe against her palm and she shakes her head with half a smile, gently nudging his foot with a stern rub. “The rain gets everywhere.” 

“I know. It’s advice I still have to give, though.” She claps her hands, white dust springing into the air in a cloud. Waving it away, she bends over to grab pillows and shoves them beneath his legs, exposing his blistering feet to the other soldiers who care to look his way. Wiping her palms along her pants, white streaks down the dark green before she pulls out clean socks and sets them by his bedside. “Put these on when you’re discharged. I hope I don’t have to see you again, Sergeant Barnes.” A sort of yawning ache splits Bucky down the middle as she brushes hair out of her face and turns to pick up a second tray of medical supplies.

“Any siblings?” he asks suddenly just to keep her around. She blinks, turns to check if anyone needs her, and then perches on the edge of his cot like a pretty little bird. Her tray balances in her lap, tools glimmering against the stark-white of a roll of bandages. He brings a spoonful of soup to his lips and it warms him all the way down to the belly. A bit of it dribbles down his chin and she reaches over with a thumb to wipe it off. 

“Three brothers,” she says, withdrawing her hand. Bucky’s lips part and he sucks in a soft breath as she smiles again, this time wide enough to dig into her cheeks. It changes her—makes her younger and softer. Against the grey of everything, she is enchanting. “Twin older brothers and one baby brother.”

“That must’ve been the worst.” He smirks, eyebrows raising and she hides a laugh unsuccessfully. Bucky’s been told he has an infectious smile and he’s glad war hasn’t taken that away from him. She scoots closer to the head of the bed as he eats and as she nears, he can almost count the stars in her eyes.

“My brothers never stopped getting into trouble and I always got caught in the middle of it. They taught me how to fight and we fought all the time…” Her voice fades away and Bucky frowns, eyebrows furrowing together. “Until the war happened.” Her smile slips away and her eyes no longer bare the bravery to meet his. A muscle in her jaw ticks and Bucky almost reaches for her hand. Almost. He cocks his head, letting his drying hair fall into his eyes and she looks at him again, this time not as warmly, this time with emptiness.

“My brothers fled to America a few months after they declared war,” she says. Some nameless, faceless men in Bucky’s head appear and he tilts his head, lips pressing together in a firm line. He could try to imagine a selfish man with her features, or maybe a man hiding under a hood as he boarded a ship with the same eyes, but he can’t. Not when his sister sits right before him. “Because in England, they can’t conscript the last son of a family.”

His thoughts crumble to ash.

“But you’re here,” he whispers and she looks down at his tray, unseeing. 

“I am,” she agrees, wistful, regretful. When their eyes meet again, Bucky wonders if she feels the heat, too. “And you? Any siblings?”

“Three.”

“And you’ve left them behind, too.”

“You’ve been at war much longer than I have,” Bucky points out and she tilts her chin up. The grey sun that streams through the tent flaps hits her face and she’s almost blindingly radiant in a way that breaks a man’s heart. Shifting in his seat, he blinks and tries to keep that image of her, an angel in grey light before it’s gone. She ducks her head to tuck away hair from her face and he twists to set down his tray of food beside him. “You know, I used to braid my sister’s hair before school,” he says and she looks at him, eyebrows shadowing her eyes. “Can’t be rusty when I get back.”

She laughs, almost incredulous, and very, very tired, and Bucky can see the minute the weight seems to lift off her shoulders. She sets down her tray and leans back on her hands, lip caught between teeth as she tries to bite her smile down. It only makes Bucky smile wider.

“Sergeant Barnes, would you please braid a girl’s hair?” she asks, dewy sweet, and Bucky nearly melts in his bed. Mouth dry, he clears his throat and pulls at his blanket. 

“What would I get in return?” He plays for keeps, and the angel grins, leaning towards him. His eyes fall to her lips as she brushes hair out of his face. Bucky can barely breath at the featherlight sweep of her fingers.

“Would my everlasting affection suffice?” She cocks her head and waits for his answer, fingers stilling on his cheek as his eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes. He wonders what it would taste like, to kiss her. Maybe it’d taste like coffee and cough syrup, or gunpowder and ash. Whatever it is, Bucky wants to know. So he nods 

“I s’pose it would.”

.

The cell reeks of dead rat and rank shit. With the wet drip-drip-drip of water leaking from a crack in the ceiling, Bucky digs his shiv into the cement. Scratching the tally mark, he lets the ugly grating of metal against the wall ring in his ears. A mind-numbing pain rests in his veins and just the mere effort of dragging his arm up the wall to run the point through the mark again is nearly too much. His mind swirls in a twisted knot, one that only tightens with every waking moment.

Whatever they did to him—lacing fire and ice into his blood, carving him from the inside out and sharpening his every sense until he can hear the roaches crawling on the walls—has changed him. Somewhere inside him knows he’s different, disfigured on a level he cannot understand. 

He lets his hand fall to the cot as the sound of rusted metal echoes down the hall.

“Let go of me! Bastards!”

Blinding candlelight streams into his cage and Bucky raises his head wearily, twisting onto his side to watch as German soldiers haul a furiously struggling figure between them. Muffled grunts and the sound of fabric rustling catches his ear as he blinks away the stars in his eyes and drops his shiv, hiding it beneath his ratty blanket.

“Herr Schmidt promised you your life for your compliance.”

“Let him choke on my compliance!” The voice rings in his ears as he pushes himself to a sitting position and his metal cell opens before the sound of a body colliding with the floor fills the silence. Bucky blinks hard, trying to get used to the golden light before it shuts him in the darkness once again, but the guards are already closing his gate. The person splayed on his floor gets up, rushing to the metal bars and slamming their first against the shaking thing as the soldiers laugh.

“What the hell?” he mutters, rubbing his eye and one of the soldiers look to him.

“You have company, Sergeant Barnes. Enjoy.” The sneer that seeps into the parting word causes an unwanted shiver to crawl up Bucky’s spine as the body crawls into the middle of his cell and collapses, letting out a sob. Propping himself on his hands, Bucky tries to remember where he’s heard this voice before. 

His brain feels burned, and the harder he thinks, the more it seems to whine. 

“Barnes?”

His name, whispered harshly and echoing in his four walls of prison, is the answer to his prayers, the answer he least desires. 

“Angel,” he utters, breathless as he slides to the floor. The rough cement crates against his weak, bony knees and hands take hold of him as a wet face presses against his cheek.

“Sergeant Barnes.” She all but melts into his embrace, and she burns with the heat of ten million stars, all too hot for his own feverish fingers yet still he digs his nails into her back hard enough that his bones ache. “What did they do to me?” she whispers, shaking, and Bucky pulls her back by the shoulder, one hand cupping her head gently.

“How long have you been here?” he asks carefully and she searches his gaze. “Where were you?” Her breaths shudder against his palm as he wipes away the tears from her face and in the grim, fading light, he can see blood leaking from her ear, dripping warmly onto his knuckles.

“After Azzano, they attacked the hospital.” Her breath, hot as summer rain, chills him to the bone. “They managed to evacuate all but the last few tents and they caught me.” A disgusted twist in her lip, her eyes unfocus. Bucky cups her face, feels something thrum in her pulse and she looks up, looks through him. “They said I was to be put under tests, and I’d be lucky to survive.”

Bucky’s hand on her shoulder trails to the collar of her shirt, gently hooking a finger and tugging. Colourful smudges of purple, blue, yellow, and green smear her skin. The effects of needles, huge and plunging and painful. If he looks close enough in the dark, he can spot the entry points, stabs that haven’t healed.

A flicker of fire burns brighter in his belly than the one that already soaks him in its heat.

“I don’t feel very lucky, Sergeant Barnes,” she whimpers. Bucky’s eyes flash back to hers, and when she blinks, fresh tears run over his skin. “It hurts everywhere.”

“You’ll be okay.” He brings her into his embrace, a hand on her head and the other wrapped around her back as he closes his eyes. Her arms slither around his waist and he presses his cheek against her temple. “You’re going to be okay, angel.”

She is silent. Two weeks and they’ve already beaten hope out of this place. Perhaps she isn’t quite used to the freezing agony set in her bones yet or the ache of ligaments tearing and building again as every fiber of her turns to steel. Bucky wants to tell her it’ll get better, but he doesn’t know himself. 

“You’ll have the bed,” Bucky promises and she pulls back immediately to protest but he shakes his head. “My ma would smack me if I didn’t insist.” He half-smiles and his muscles stretch pleasantly in his cheeks as her arms draw away slightly. Her hands rest on his hips and he nods to her. 

“You’re my patient,” she protests and he chuckles quietly. It’s a raspy kind of sound and it sounds hollow the more it echoes, but he means it. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Angel, you took care of soldiers for years before I came around,” he starts, and something in her eyes flickers. He cups her cheek, the dim light barely lighting her features. The swollen bags beneath her eyes have only grown worse since he’s last seen her, and she’s lost what little healthy glow she had that coloured her face. “I think it’s time someone took care of you.”

“Sergeant Barnes, I—”

“Bucky,” he says, brushing limp hair away from her face. He can hear her thunderous heart, or perhaps it is his beating between his ears, louder than the ocean. “My name’s Bucky.”

.

“Where are the rest of the 107th?” she asks that night as they feed on cold soup. Bucky’s fingers tremble but the pain has receded into a tiny knot at the base of his skull. His arm feels like it’s about to drop off his body and with every move of his neck, heat and bruising pain spreads into his chest. She drops her spoon too loudly and they both flinch.

“They separated me from them after they began the tests,” he mutters, letting the cold broth slither down his gut. “No one came back from the isolation ward so I thought for sure I’d be dead.”

“Well, neither of us are.” She’s leaning against the metal frame of the bed, her knees tucked to her chest. Her scrappy uniform is scuffed with dirt and wet from the mold growing beneath their feet but Bucky merely smiles softly. His back against the wall, his feet are outstretched before him. He’s quite sure if she stretches her legs too, their boots would touch. “How many doses have they given you?”

“Two.” He sets down his bowl in his lap. She looks into her own, stirring, the metal cup perched on her knees. “You?”

“One.” Something in Bucky’s arm begins to tingle, as if the injection sites open wide at the sound of her voice. He lets his head tilt back until he knocks into the stone. “They kept me in another part of the factory to treat workers before they decided to use me like some lab rat.” Fabric rustles and a presence looms near him as he closes his eyes. Something warm is set in his lap and he lifts his head wearily as she settles in beside him. “You should eat.”

“What?” He picks up the one fresh ingredient to their meal, a slice of warm bread, and shakes his head. Picking it up, he tries to hand it back to her. “No, you need to eat—”

“You’ve been here longer, Sergeant.” 

“Angel—”

“I get the bed, and you get the warm bread.” She seems to sag into her shoulders and he frowns slightly. “It seems only fair.” Her hair is slick with dirt, sweat and oil as she rests her head on his shoulder and he tilts his head until his cheek presses against her scalp. Her boot knocks into his as he rips the bread apart.

“Fine. Can’t deny you a thing,” he whispers and she shakes with a silent chuckle, weak and tired. “How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t want to move away from you,” she murmurs blearily, her eyes closed as she turns her head to him. Her nose brushes his jaw as he swallows. “Tell me a story.”

“About what, sweetheart?” he asks, and the warmth of her is so comforting he could cry. Human touch that isn’t sharp and painful and terrible has caused his body to soften. Her body has twisted towards him, her knees bent and her legs hooked over one of his. “I can tell you ‘bout Brooklyn, I guess.”

“Would you?” she asks, exhausted, small, fading. She loops her arm through his, curls herself around it as he bites into the cooling crust. He swallows quickly, feeling it lump together on its way down to his stomach.

“Yeah, and I can tell you ‘bout Steve. He’s my best friend and I made him ride the Cyclone once on Coney Island. I gotta bring you there, the lights at night on a warm summer day… it’s the prettiest sight…”

He can tell the instant she slips away from him, the subtle change in her breathing and her heart rate, the peace that overtakes her face, the tender warmth that seeps into his own bones. He gently brings the slice of bread to his mouth, devouring it in two or three bites before picking up his bowl of soup again. Sipping quietly, he is careful not to disturb her as she squirms against him, seeking something warmer than what he can provide. He carefully sets down the bowl and wraps his free arm around her, squeezing gently in hopes that it’ll give life to her frigid skin.

His own heart thuds in his throat when she lets out a soft sigh and melts into his body. He tilts his head, nose in her hair as her breath puffs against his neck, soft as snow. He closes his own eyes and his mind wanders as her arms, wrapped around his arm, hold him even tighter to her own chest.

A small bomb explodes in his chest and he smiles even though no one’s looking. 

Bucky Barnes has never really loved a girl before, but in this moment, as her body fits into his like it is meant to be and he sits, rots, in an Austrian prison with poison running through his veins, he is sure he will gladly die for one.

.

It’s by the third dose for her do they understand best how to take care of one another. Bucky can usually tell when they’ll take one of them away by the meal they present. It’ll be warm, almost hot, and rich with nutrients their bodies crave, and in the mornings, fresh towels and ice will be shoved into their cell like they swelter from the heat. 

They toss her into the cell with a rattling slam with a promise to return for him soon but Bucky doesn’t say a word in return. An agonizing mess, his angel lets out a soft moan as he scoops her into his arms. The smell of clean soap and sweat clings to her skin, her hair slightly damp from the shower they always force upon them before the doses. Dark, reddening marks imprinted into her temples, her eyes stare sightlessly ahead as he lays her down on the cot. He dips a towel into the bowl of freezing water.

The soft clack of ice against the metal bowl echoes in his head as he numbly wipes away the sweat, gently cleaning her tears and soothing an ache he knows festers between her temples.

“Doctor…. Prisoner… 56899…” The words slip between her lips, soft and jumbled as she turns her head away and the pit inside of Bucky widens as he tries to catch her eye.

“Angel,” he whispers, running his hand over her cheek. “Come back to me.” Turning her face towards him, he lets out a sharp breath as her eyes stare through him. “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Bucky?” It’s like magic the way a soul seems to fill her body in a moment’s notice. Life pours into her eyes, and a hand grips at his sleeve.

“Hey, angel.” He dips the towel in ice once again and she raises a hand gently to touch his face. Her fingers tremble, clammy with sweat, as he blinks. A strange smile stretches her face and he thinks she’s laughing at him as he wipes away the blood from her ear once again. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re crying, Sergeant Barnes,” she whispers fondly and Bucky blinks again, just realizing the heat that floods his face is not from the factory that works around them. Her cold fingers swipe away the wetness from his cheeks, spread it over his face and he resists the urge to press a kiss to her palm. Instead, he uses his free hand to hold her palm to his cheek. A shiver runs down his spine. “Who’s gone and broken your heart?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he says. She laughs again, painful and quiet, and this time her eyes flutter shut as she slips away from him. Despite how much stronger she appears with muscles that flex and wane beneath his arms, he sees the cracks they split into her soul. He hopes the love he harbours for his angel is enough to seal every single one.

He knows it is not.

.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t tell her he loves her.

He doesn’t think he can bear the thought of telling her and disappearing the very next day, but perhaps it’s the little things that count.

“There’s enough room on the bed, Sergeant Barnes,” she had said, and they started to sleep together on the small little cot barely fit for one, Bucky slightly hunched over her as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Their legs entangled and more often than not, it ended with one of them squished against the wall and the other flush against them, but it was always worth the morning blush.

“Have my blanket,” he had insisted as autumn swept over their prison cell and warm food was more and more of a necessity. Even though they didn’t need to eat and hunger no longer clawed at their stomachs, Bucky always remembered to share the slice of warm bread with her as their fingers turned numb and chattering teeth filled the silence at night.

“Hold my hand…” as fingers entwined with fingers.

“I’ll take care of you…” accompanied the sound of blood dripping onto the stone floor.

“When we get outta here…” followed by a million promises and the scratch of the shiv against the stone wall.

It’s the little things that count.

.

“You’re upset.”

Her voice is soft, gentle as snow as Bucky runs a towel raggedly through his almost-dry hair. He twists on his bed to see her standing there, in a new uniform and hair damp as it falls around her face. He thinks she’s never been more effortlessly gorgeous. Life has returned to her cheeks and her eyes spark.

“Angel,” he says with a smile and he scoots over to allow her room next to him. After a wash, he can almost imagine feeling like a new man. He tosses the towel onto the pillow behind him as she sits down. “Did they feed you yet?”

“Just had a quick wash. I was planning on eating with you,” she chirps, sliding an arm around his waist. Tugging him towards her with extraordinary strength, she smiles as Bucky ducks his head underneath her chin. Wrapping his own arms around her middle, he closes his eyes.

“I’m not upset,” he mumbles as her hand trails up his back and runs through his drying hair. “I’m just relieved we got out.”

“I know it’s more than that,” she whispers, gently tugging his head to meet eyes. When he finds her gaze, he feels boneless. A warmth floods his blood and a smile overcomes his face, small, tired. “You always let your guard down when you think no one’s looking.” But I’m always looking are the words that hang between them.

Bucky swallows and cold flashes over his body. 

“Let’s give it up for Captain America!”

“You think Steve’s gonna last till next week?” he asks quietly, hands falling away from her. He flinches back when her hands reach for him and he doesn’t see the hurt that settles on her face. “We saw soldiers die, friends bleed out, and you think Steve is gonna be different?”

“He is different.”

“Yeah, so they’ll have him fight the good fight.” His words are bitterly strung out and he wants to put a hole through the wall. “They’ll have him on the front lines and I’ll be right beside him because I can’t abandon my best friend. A best friend who I can barely recognize, and—”

“Bucky, he’s still your Steve.”

“I’m supposed to protect him!” Frosted silence pools into his heart as his breath comes in rattled gasps. His heart hammers against his ribs and he can hear hers, a gentle beat. “And I failed. So that’s the rest of my life; that’s what I’m going to do. Make up for every time I wasn’t there for him and every time I couldn’t stop him from getting hurt—”

“Steve’s changed. Even you can’t protect him from war,” she says and Bucky, with a humourless smile and darkness in his cold blue eyes, shakes his head.

“I can damn well try. If not me, who?” A hollow where his heart should be swallows him whole and he only sees the darkness of the Austrian factory, the vomit and blood after every session. The soft sobs as he whispers he can’t remember his ma’s face. Rebecca is nothing more than a fading memory. “I’m not letting this war take more from me than it already has.”

“Neither am I.” Her hands are folded in her lap and despite how desperately he wants her touch, he feels like he’s just seconds from falling apart. Sucking in a deep breath, he brings his shattered pieces together and silently tells her not to disrupt the broken glass. “If you spend your whole life protecting him, who protects you?”

“I don’t need protection.”

“Bucky.” Her sigh sweeps into his ears as she reaches for his arm and he jerks back, standing sharply. His knees shake and he feels the soreness in his feet as he meets her eyes. Her eyes glisten as she blinks against the fading dusk and he turns away to the tent exit. He barely takes a step before she pipes up again. “Does he know?” 

Turning around, he barely utters, “What?”

“What we went through. Does he know?”

“That’s not important.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She storms up to him, face an effigy of wrath as she grabs his arm. Turning it over in her fingers, she pulls up his wrist so he is forced to stare at his own veins. They run, bulging and blue-grey, and he can hear his own blood flowing. “We got fucked over, Sergeant Barnes. You don’t even remember what your mother looks like and you say it isn’t important?”

“It’s war! I’ve been gone too long.” Bucky rips his arm from her grasp as something in him slants.

“I never forgot my brothers’ faces until I went in there.” She throws an arm out, points to some distant corner of their tent but her glazed eyes do not stray from his. “Sometimes, I can’t even remember their names and you’re no different, and right now, it isn’t about Steve. This is about you and what happened to us back there!” 

Heat bubbles underneath his skin and when she does not speak, it’s almost as an avalanche rushes through his body. “I’m trying to forget what happened to me in there! I have a job to do and I can’t… I can’t be distracted because that will get Steve killed. People die every day and I’ve gotten used to it, but I won’t let my best friend be someone I have to leave behind in No Man’s Land. I thought you of all people would understand.” Sticky, humid air clouds his face and his vision blurs as he collapses to his knees. Hands immediately land on his shoulders, slide down his back as he’s pulled into a spine-crushing embrace.

“Oh, Bucky, I do,” she whispers. She pulls him back, cups his face and the suppleness of her skin causes his shuddering breaths to hitch. He sucks in a huge gasp as he continues to crumble. He slips between her fingers as he desperately tries to pull himself together but with her every swipe of his tears, he only shatters. “I promise I do. Just let me take care of you when you can’t do it anymore.” Her thumbs brush underneath his eyes as his hands on her hips squeeze and she lets out a gentle sigh. “You can fall apart on me. I promise I’ll protect you.”

“It’s not worth it. I’m… I’m… not worth it.”

“It’ll always be worth it if it’s you,” she promises and his eyes close. Another rush of tears spill over her fingers as gentle lips press between his eyebrows. “Besides—” Her voice whispers over his skin as she tucks her chin in to look at him. His forehead presses into her sternum as he melts into her body. His hiccuping breaths shake his shoulders jerking as she runs a soothing hand through his hair, down his back—“if you’re not worth saving, then neither am I.”

At this, Bucky raises his tear stained face to his angel and shakes his head, stubborn as they come. His heart slows in his head and cool wind kisses his wet cheeks. Their lips almost brush and his breath shudders in his throat.

“I will always save you no matter what.” 

She smiles, a soft exhale that could almost be a laugh puffing against his cheek as he shifts against her, sitting up straighter. She pulls back, wiping her hand along his jacket and he sniffs, a small, watery grin cracking over his face.

“You’re quite the romantic, Sergeant Barnes.”

“How many times do I gotta tell you? My name’s Bucky.” He can hear her heart quiver as he touches her face, spreads his fingers along her cheek and gently guides her closer until he can taste the smoke and lime that clings to her skin. He can hear her breathe his name, a gentle sigh before their lips meet, and he thaws underneath her touch. 

Her fingers brush his jaw as he closes his eyes and the feel of her mouth, chapped and warm against his, is ecstasy.

Their first kiss is everything and nothing Bucky has ever dreamed it would be. A desperate clash of tears and lips and teeth, yet softer than anything he’s ever known, he knows one thing is certain in his life now.

He has found the love of his life, and only Death will do them part.

.

The wind is knocked out of him the minute he sees her. His angel has managed to steal his heart all over again and Bucky wonders how he’s going to survive the night when his eyes are glued to her. Clean, soft, and radiant, she stands there almost bashfully, waiting for him to notice her. Her smile splits her face as he remembers to close his mouth.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greets politely as she looks up at him. In her heels, she looks as if she could rule the world. Bucky barely manages to greet her before clearing his throat. His cheeks pool with heat and he looks down at his shoes, running a hand through his hair. “Where are you off to?” 

“Captain Rogers invited me to the Whip and Fiddle for an important meeting.”

“How strange. I was invited as well.” She grins as he extends an arm and she leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth. Bucky’s cheeks flare up and he turns to look at her. She loops her hand through, holding him close as they walk down the street and Bucky places a hand on top of hers along his arm.

“Who’s the lucky man?” he asks as if he isn’t walking the most gorgeous dame in all of London to some bar a few minutes away for their first date. 

“A very brave soldier,” she replies. Her heat seeps through his jacket and he turns to look at her, trying to come up with a compliment adequate enough to express how much he adores her. “You look very handsome, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Can’t compare to you, angel.” Her smile becomes tender under his gaze and she pauses just outside the pub. Inside, the frosted glass glows with the heat and with every swing of the door, merry singing and the beginnings of Dum Dum telling a story sweep into the cool air. Words pound at the back of his teeth as he stares down at her, looking so pretty in the warm lamplight of London. “How’s your family? Did you have a chance to see them?”

“Mum’s doing okay. Dad was out with my brother so I was a nice surprise to come home to.”

"It sounds like a warm welcome, doll.”

“You know, they would love to meet you, too.” He blinks, hand stalling from where he’d been brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I told them about you, if that’s alright…” 

“They know about what happened to us?” His voice is tight, just the mere mention of it burning down his arms. 

“No.” She looks guilty and Bucky wonders if the weight on her shoulders has always been there. “Mum’s got enough on her plate with my brother leaving and all. He’s, he’s actually travelling to Oxford soon so it was necessary for me to say goodbye and Dad… I don’t think he can take it. He’s lost two sons already.”

Bucky runs his thumb down her cheek, planting a tender kiss against her forehead. 

“When this war is over, we’ll find them,” he promises and she smiles, pressing her lips eagerly against his. He can’t help the huge grin that spreads across his face and he chuckles into her mouth as she plants her hands on his cheeks and holds him there, kissing him again and again. “Give me a chance to show you Brooklyn ‘n’ Shelbyville, where I was born, Coney Island… We can take the Railroad and everything.” 

“Too many places for a time like this,” she teases, pulling back. “First the Whip and Fiddle, then I show you around London and then we go to America.”

“Deal.” She smiles up at him, like they’re not in the middle of war, like they haven’t just escaped prison with blue serum running through their veins, like they’re still the boy and girl they were before.

“Let’s go in. Steve’s probably waiting,” she whispers, turning to look at the warm, fogging glass. Bucky turns, glaring at the door. Suddenly, meeting Steve doesn’t seem so inviting. Her hands trail down his face and rest on his chest as she sighs longingly. “I don’t want you to go back in there.”

Turning around again, he takes her hand from his chest and kisses her fingers tenderly. “I’m staying right here for a while longer,” he murmurs, knowing that this is not what she meant at all.

A cool chill sweeps between their bodies and Bucky tucks her into his body, wrapping her in the tightest embrace he can manage. She’s all supple muscle, carbon bone, and she’s taller than before yet all Bucky can think of is protecting her.

I love you. I love you. I love you, he thinks, eyes closing as he rests his chin in her hair. He can feel her heart beating like a soft drum through her back as she drags her hands up his shoulders. 

“You’re the only one who understands,” she whispers into the wind, yet his ears still catch it all. She buries her face into his chest, her fingers digging into the ridges of his back as he brings a hand to cradle the back of her head. “Please don’t leave me.”

His eyebrows furrow together and he doesn’t even feel the wind bite at his skin until his fingers turn purple. His chest aches and everything inside him cracks like glass under pressure. Winding, and winding, long and elegant in a catastrophic kind of way.

Never, never, never. I love you more than anything. How can I ever leave you? He wants to scream it into the night, tell her until she understands. 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

.

“A zip line?” she says dubiously, the snow dotting her hair as she sits by the fire. Heat and frost play at her face, bathing it half in white light, and half in blazing orange. “It doesn’t sound very enticing.”

Bucky forces a smile and kisses her for what he doesn’t know is the last time. She tastes like beef jerky and mountain water, and he can hear Morita making some wise crack about how gooey the Sarge is being. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice,” she retorts.

It sounds an awful like a confession Bucky can’t bear to hear right now.

.

They leave at dawn. 

The last thing he does is slip an envelope into her rucksack and he prays that he’ll be back before she can open it.

.

When his fingers slip, there’s a moment in time that freezes. He teeters on the edge of life and death, and he can see Steve’s outstretched hand just before his.

And then he falls and a million and one thoughts fly from his head.

All he can think of is broken promises and the Coney Island lights. The wind that rips away at him is like the way the Cyclone had tossed him through the air, safely bound by the metal bars, but this time, there is nothing holding him back. 

He throttles through the air, collides with something sharp and jagged before rolling down, through snow and ice, and his vision swims in inky black as he struggles to breathe. His lungs are paralyzed and his skull splits open as he tumbles over and he thinks the blood is coming from his head? Or maybe it’s his nose or his throat or how can he still think with all of winter’s wrath surrounding him? His head is buried in snow as he tries to remember what it was like to breathe again.

Snow falls softly around him, landing on his face like tiny kisses and it is almost as if his heart leaps to his throat. Blood bubbles at his lips, his whole body wracking with agony. He sinks into the snow, ice the pillow beneath his head. It dribbles warmly down his cheeks, leaking from the corner of his lips and the snow melts in the heat of his essence.

Wind caresses his face gently and he swallows a thick glob of blood that catches halfway as a sob pushes its way up his throat. 

He wonders how long he will stay here, broken and dying, until Death comes to collect him, but then something grabs his boot and his eyes jerk open.

Wolves. Wolves will eat me alive, he muses, too tired, too dizzy from pain to fight. The blurry grey-blue canvas above him stretches above him, brighter than anything he remembers seeing, as he raises his head blearily. Men take him by the legs and pull, something he can barely feel as his bones click into place.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Angel?” he mumbles beneath his breath, eyes rolling back into his head as it slams back into the snow and he thinks he can hear her laugh echo in the ravine above him. “I’m sorry…” 

For every promise I’ve broken, for every day I won’t be here, for every time I never told you I loved you. For loving you and leaving you. For leaving you. For loving you.

I’m sorry.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

ASoUE REWRITE - Season 1; The Miserable Mill - Part i.ii

⇢ Klaus x Reader⇠

*not my gif*

     Morning is an important time of day, because how you begin your morning can often tell you what kind of day you're going to have. If you wake up in a mansion to a butler serving you blueberry pancakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice your day will probably be wonderful. If you wake up in a lumbermill to the sound of metal pots banging together...

     "Get up, lumber workers!"

     The children and their new companion woke with a start at the harsh sounds of the new foreman banging pots together over the intercoms.

     "This is your new foreman, and you've got a new shipment of logs to turn into flat wooden boards."

     "What's that horrible noise?" Klaus asked disgruntled, looking at Y/n.

     She sleepily rubbed her eyes, an act Klaus found to be rather sweet but he quickly dismissed the thought, embarrassed.

     Y/n cringed at the sound. "I'm not entirely sure, but it sounds an awful lot like metal pots banging together." She frowned.

     Soon enough, the children fell into line with the other lumber workers as they filed out of the workers dorm. Phil the optimist had joined them, a cheery disposition as always.

     "I believe everyone has a good side. But I have to admit, our last foreman was a lot nicer." Phil giggled.

     "What happend to your last foreman?" Klaus asked.

     Y/n frowned. "I'm not sure,"

"Must have quit in the middle of the night. Happens a lot around here."

     "Hurry up. It's log day." Grumbled the voice of the speaker.

     Y/n sighed and the Baudelaires seemed to notice her distress at the news.

     "What's wrong?" Klaus asked.

     "Oh nothing, it's just that log days are particularly frustrating. But don't worry, I'll show you the ropes Baudelaires. I'd be happy to, after all I had to figure it out by myself when I started."

     "That hardly seems safe," Violet frowned.

     "That's what I always thought."

     The four children reached the entrance of the mill and the Baudelaires stared on in worry at the many dangerous devices.

     "Now grab a debarked and start debarking. You too, lumber midgets."

     "The debarkers are this way," The Baudelaires quickly followed Y/n and fell in line in front of a large dispenser that was labeled debarkers.

     When it came her turn, Y/n pulled the long lever on the side of the dispenser and out came a debarker. Klaus was next to grab a debarker, followed by Violet who was holding Sunny. He shared an uneasy look with his sisters before following Y/n.

     "Will Sunny be alright?" Y/n asked Klaus in concern, as they made it to their station. "This is very dangerous work for us, not to mention a young baby."

  "I hope so, but my sister does have a talent and love of biting things, although I am not sure how long she will be able to manage with bark on a log."

   This came as quite a shock to Y/n, as it tends to when one learns that a young infant like Sunny has unusually sharp teeth and habit of biting hard things. Although, she soon saw what Klaus had meant by the time his sisters caught up to them and got to work.

     The four children had been hard at work for several painstaking hours. Although, the new friends decided to make casual small talk here and there as they worked, to help pass the time which they all found to be helpful. Y/n was very impressed with Sunny's skill and praised her, much to Sunny's enjoyment. Y/n was already beginning to get a sense of understanding Sunny.

   Of course, the day felt as if it had stretched on for weeks, when finally the whistle blew, followed by the new foreman's voice echoing across the mill.

     "Lunch breaks, lumber slowpokes."

     "I hate log days," muttered Klaus.

     "Finally, we get a break," Violet said.

     "Ejafeb" Sunny said, meaning 'Even I'm tired of biting things.'

     The four children had made there way to the break area, and the Baudelaires had taken a seat. They were confused when they saw their new friend reluctant to sit.

     She sighed, grabbing the children's attention.

     "I must have forgotten to mention, this lumber mill has quite unfair working conditions," she began.

     Before she could finish her sentence, the loud voice of the foreman echoed aloud once more.

     "Lunch break. Five minutes."

     "Oh, boy! Five whole minutes!" Exclaimed Phil, who was sitting behind the Baudelaires.

     He had just passed a box around after taking a piece of gum from the box.

     Violet was handed the box of gum and looked at it in disbelief.

     "It's gum. This is gum."

     "Unfortunately." Replied Y/n, reaching over and grabbing a piece, but discreetly putting it in her pocket for later. "Like I said, the working conditions here are abysmal and illegal, I'm quite sure. But not to worry. I have leftovers."

     Y/n discreetly pulled out a very small bag of bread that the Baudelaires smiled at. She quickly slid it back into her pocket, making sure nobody else had seen it.

     "Although I would suggest we use this limited time to explore the library if we want to do some research. Are you guys still up for it?" She asked, wanting to make sure the Baudelaires weren't too exhausted.

     Violet and Klaus, looked at each other and then back at their new friend with a smile.

"That's a good idea," Violet said.

     The three siblings stood up and followed Y/n as she led the way to the main building. When the children were out of sight, Y/n reached into her pocket and unwrapped the four pieces of bread and the spare baby carrots they hadn't seen at the bottom of the bag.

     The children hadn't realized how hungry they were until their stomachs growled at the sight.

     "I have been sneaking portions of dinner and saving them for lunch. I grabbed some for you three as well. It's not much but I'm afraid it's all I have." She held out the morsel of food and offered it to her new friends as they walked to the building.

     "Thank you, Y/n. That's very kind of you," Klaus said, admiring the young girl.

     Violet and Klaus took a piece of bread each, and Sunny had opted for some of the carrots. Y/n took a piece of bread as well.

     "Yes, thank you very much Y/n. For all your help." Violet added, before taking a bite.

     "Fleeb!" Sunny said, which meant, 'Yes, thank you. These carrots are delicious!'

     Y/N smiled at the three siblings. "Of course! It's really no trouble."

     By now the children had reached the main office building where the Baudelaire's had just been the day before. Y/n put away the remaining food in her pocket, all wrapped up and the children noticed she had quieted her footsteps a bit as she approached the front door. They took note and did the same.

     The four walked in and Klaus had shut the door behind them. They slowly walked down the hallway, Y/n in the lead.

     "If I can recall, the library should be behind these doors." She said, gesturing to the double doors that stood across from the doors to Sir's office.

     She looked at Klaus and Violet and then opened the two sliding doors.

     The children got a brief glimpse of the small but cozy-looking library before they heard another pair of sliding doors behind them. They whipped around to find Sir and Charles standing before them.

     "Trying to get out of log day, are you?"

     "No Sir, we wanted to visit the library on our lunch break." Y/n quickly explained.

     Charles perked up from behind Sir. "Oh, what a lovely idea! I told you a library would be good for morale."

     Sir remained with a scowl and took a puff of his cigar. "Nonsense. Lunch breaks are for chewing gum, not sneaking off to libraries. That's why you only need five minutes."

     "But, Sir--" Charles said.

     "You're not gonna cause trouble for this mill, are you? I already heard enough of your complaints young lady," he said, pointing his cigar at Y/n. "What with your constant ungrateful complaints for food at lunch when I provide you with all that gum."

     Y/n frowned at his words.

     "I took a chance on treating you like grown-ups. Don't make me regret it. Now, get back to work!" Sir barked.

     With that, Sir turned around and disappeared back into his office. Charles shot them a sympathetic look.

     "You'll have to excuse Sir. He recently cut down on the smoking." He began to subtly back into the office.

     Violet took the chance to speak up. "Do you know he feeds the workers gum?"

     "And pays us in coupons?" Y/n quickly added, earning shocked looks from the Baudelaires.

Charles began to stutter.

     "Yes, well, I-I've tried to discuss that."

     "If you guys are partners, you should be able to stand up to him," Violet argued, quickly recovering from shock.

Charles was subtly reaching for the doors, ready to close them. "It's complicated. I know Sir can be prickly, but you have to understand, he had a very terrible childhood." He began slowly closing the doors.

     "I understand," Klaus said in an irritated tone, stepping closer. "I'm having a very terrible childhood right now."

     By now, Charles was hiding behind the mostly closed doors, his face barely visible.

      "Okay." He whispered, uncomfortable, before closing the door for good.

     They heard the whistle blow, and the four children sighed, and they all began trudging back to the mill, not wanting to spend another second here.

[thatonegirljessy99]

Gongjunim (1/2)

Summary: You fall for Yoongi. Only problem? Your Namjoon’s little sister. Oops lol

Requested?: Yes! By @soulpunker58

Word count: +3.2K

Warning:Teasing, Fluff??

A/N: I AM SO APRRY I HAVEN'T POSTED ANY WRITING! I'VE HAD MAJOR WRITERS BLOCK BUT I PROMISE THE NEXT PART OF LONGING TO FEEL LOVE IS COMING THIS WEEK! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS! Also, credit to whoever created this gif. Sorry I don't know who made it. Anyways enjoy!

He had your mind spinning as he cupped your cheek sweetly and kissed you softly under the tree outside your house. His lips were so soft making butterflies burst into a frenzy in your stomach.

“I love you so much princess...”

“Oppa... I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same way and I would make things...”

“Weird?”

“Yeah,” a giggle escaped your lips as you looked up at his grinning face before turning towards the darkness of the night hearing something.

“Y/N!”

“Present!” you scream standing up before being pulled back down to your seat.

The class busted into laughter as you looked around embarrassed, biting your lip awkwardly as your best friend sighed behind you.

‘Second time this week… fuck’

“I know Miss Kim, nice of you to remind me that. But I was asking if you could solve the problem on the board. If you aren’t paying attention I can always deduct participation p-“

Before the professor could even finish his sentence, your eyes were already scanning the board to analyze the problem and solve it faster than what most students could in the class.

‘Deduct participation points my ass’

“5i over 7 minus 4i would have the top and bottom multiplied by 7 plus 4i leaving the new equation for the denominator to be 49 plus 28i minus 28i plus 16. Once simplifying the denominator, you would have 35i minus 20 over 65 which would turn into 35i over 65 minus 20 over 65. So, you final answer in standard form would be negative 4 over 13 plus 7 over 13i.”

The class fell silent as they looked at your professor work out the problem on the board only to find you were right, as per usual. You were the youngest person in the class, math having always been your strong suite, and you were the only student that was known to have to switch classes when it came to math. Normally it would just be the teachers switching classes, but you had to go up stairs to the advance senior classes when it came time. Currently you were taking college algebra with a professor that loved to call out anyone he thought wasn’t paying attention. Which was you most of the time, but that is not the point right now.

“That is correct… please just look at the board next time Miss Kim. Or at the very least please take notes,” the older man sighed going back to teaching his lesson to the rest of the class.

-

“You are by far the biggest queen of bullshit I have ever met in the history of this school,” Sunny laughed as you guys walked out of the class and headed to the lunch room,” You were so far gone and yet you were able to make him shut up for the second time this week. I think you could set a school record for how many times you just bullshit your way through class. Now tell me what you keep day dreaming about. And I will not except anything less than the full story.”

“Honestly, it's some cheesy shit that you would see on one of out dramas. It’s me outside of my house with some guy that calls me-”

“Princess! Hey! How's my favorite girl?” a voice from behind you called out before you felt a long arm wrap around your waist to pull you close to his side.

A chill ran down your spine when you looked up to be met with that signature gummy bear smile that made your heart melt in a second. By now you would think you would be use to it from how often you saw this smile, but nope!

“Oppa! Aish! Stop it! Your being embarrassing!” you blushed pulling away from your brothers' best friend.

You’re not sure when your little school girl crush started for him but sometime during middle school you started to feel your cheeks heat up whenever the tall boy looked at you for too long or gave you a compliment out of the blue. Which for you came more often that you needed it to. Especially around a certain someone you should be blushing around.

“Tch, why do you have to be so mean to oppa. I’ve called you that since you were a baby,” Yoongi smirked letting go of you and bowed towards your best friend,” I remember calling that loser Bambi from how much she tripped in dance class.”

Sunny rolled her eyes and pulled Yoongi down to her height by the ear as she glared into his soul. In hindsight Yoongi would be smart enough to know not to say something like that to a girl like Sunny. But of course, he wasn’t, and now you were here.

“Mmm, don’t forget lover boy, I might be short but I’m still your senior one year and am top of the dance department on the girls end. So! Unless you’re my Hope, don’t ever fucking bring up my dancing again, got it Min Yoongi!” Sunny practically hissed through her forced smile at the cold face of Yoongi who was trying his best to not show exactly how scared or in pain he was.

Normally you would have understood if someone would have said that she was over reacting, but as students at the Conservatory for the Fine Arts of Seoul, Sunny had earned the right to be snippy with anyone that had something to say about her dancing. Just to get into this school was mission impossible but to stay in the school was a whole other level of stress. All the students here were considered the future of their industries respectively. Sunny was number one in the girl's department of dance, number two in the whole department. But that changed every other term since she and Hoseok interchanged spots whenever testing came around.

But the friendly competition didn’t hurt their relationship. Only Yoongi who didn’t know when to shut his mouth.

“Hey! Hands off the best friend,” your brothers voice boomed from behind the three of us as we got to the lunch line making me grown just from pure instinct.

Oh look, that person you definitely should not be blushing around!

“Oh, calm down, he can still use his other ear to hear his voice crack mid-way through a song,” she smirked letting go of Yoongi's ear finally.

Seeing Yoongi get ready to say something to her, your hand went to his wrist catching his attention as you smiled shyly at him making his cheeks flush before looking away as he rubbed his ear and walked over to your brother.

“Mmm, if only you could see how whipped you have him. I don’t think I have J-Hope wrapped that tightly around my pinky,” Sunny snickered in a low voice handing you a tray before starting to serve herself some food,” imagine if Rap Monster found out that his little sister had his best friend completely brainwashed.”

“Shut up.. It's not like that between us. I’ve known him before either of us got into the conservatory. He’s like a brother to me,” you started, feeling your cheeks begin to flush as you scooped rice into your bowl and covering it with chicken curry.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save that for someone who believes it,” Sunny chuckled waving off your denial as she turned to smile at you,” but no one would ever believe either of you if they saw you two together, ma cherry.”

A deep sigh escaped you lips as you looked at your friend with a smile of pure amusement.

“Ma chérie... please remind me never to practice my French on you,” you laughed wrapping an arm around your best friend as you two walked to your usual round table.

As you two sat down you were quickly joined by Hoseok and Yoongi, both of them having two soda cans on their trays. Of course, then being followed by Namjoon who sat between Sunny and Yoongi.

“So how are my favorite girls?” Hoseok grinned as he placed a soda can down in front of Sunny, pecking her lips sweetly before taking a seat and winking at you.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t start flirting on my girl in front of me,” Sunny glared playfully at the bunny faced boy, elbowing him softly before beginning to eat the kimchi she had served herself too much of on purpose.

“Can both of you losers not hit on my little sister, please? I don’t need her being corrupted by you two weirdos,” Namjoon rolled his eyes while taking a long drink, Yoongi looking at you kindly before handing you the extra soda can he had brought to the table.

Smiling at Yoongi, you took the can and opened it before giving a side glance at Namjoon. It was not the first time he had made this type of comment, nor would it be the last as far as everyone could tell. To Namjoon you were still that 6th grader that was auditioning to get into the same school as him. You are the girl that goes from school straight to your house and practiced and did your homework and you have only one friend. Or at least that was probably what he thought as since he didn’t know about the times you went out to a few house parties here and there.

“Wow, you got her a drink and not me?” your brothers voice snapped you out of your small trance you had not noticed you had fallen into.

“Aish, Namjoon! Leave him alone. He’s just being nice. Unlike you, Yoongi actually cares about your little sister. You should be nicer to her. Poor thing is going to die single if your keep being such a helicopter parent,” Sunny snorted feeding Hoseok who nodded as he chewed through his mouth full of kimchi.

“Mm thanks for that kind reminder of my lonely impending death,” you grumbled getting a spoonful of rice and curry into your mouth.

Yoongi chuckled rubbing your back as you slouched forward not wanting to talk about your relationship statue. Or lack thereof relationship.

-

The rest of the day went by as ordinarily as it got. You went to your music classes, vocal performance, music theory, piano practice, dance practice, and your advanced classes, later waiting at the front gate to go home with Namjoon.

By now it was seven in the afternoon, many students still being inside studying and doing class work. It was a long school day but that was the price all of you were willing to pay in order to be the best of the best. After all, there was a reason why you had chosen to sell out your childhood for a shot at being a star.

As you waited, leaning against the wall, you couldn’t help but groan when you over heard a small group of girls that was in your dance class gossiping and giggling as they walked past you on their way home. All you could hear them talking about was the new kid in your class, Jungkook. Or as all the girls had begun to call him, Kookie. Why? Because “that Kookie could be my snack.” Gross. So fucking gross. Yeah sure he was a pretty good dancer, and your new partner for this first quarter, but it never ceased to disgust you how quickly girls in her class could fall for a guy just for his looks.

From: RM

Forgot to tell you I had a study group after school. You can head home or come to the library if you want to wait for me

Looking down at your phone as it went off, you quickly typed an answer just so he knew you had seen his message before letting a small sigh escaping your lips.

You start making your way down the street towards your shared apartment a few blocks down from the school looking up at the sky. It was funny to you how you basically never got to see the sun during the week anymore. Well you and all of the other student that lived in your district. Many of the students from the conservatory lived within the same area because the school didn’t provide dorms and many of the students came from many different parts of South Korea just to be a part of this place.

As you made your way up the stairs that lead to your building you noticed some fluffy mint locks that had been the result of someone buying the wrong hair dye and a blue and yellow jacket you were used to seeing in your house.

“Yo, yo, yo, Agust D,” your yelled running up to Yoongi and bumping him with your shoulder playfully making the guy readjust his glasses, "What up homie?”

Realizing who it was and what you had just said, Yoongi's face looked pained as he laughed and turned to look at you in amusement. After seeing you do this some many times you would think that he would be used to this cringy act but he was pretty sure he would never stop dying inside when you tried to act like what you thought a rapper acted like.

“Gongjunim, how about we make deal and you never do that ever again,” he laughed shaking your hair with his hand to mess with your hair, knowing you would just swat your hand at him to stop.

“Aw, but I’m just trying to be as cool as Agust D,” You chuckled fixing your bag on your shoulder before getting it taken from you by Yoongi as you two walked side by side up the road.

“You know I hate being called that right?” he asked giving you a side smile as he rolled his eyes,” if you're going to call me anything other than my name call me Suga. You know I like that a lot more when you call me Suga.”

“But all the girls at school call you it. ‘Oh, Agust D is so cute’ ‘no he’s sexy’ ‘have you seen his body roll, I literally die’. Oh, and my absolute favorite ‘have you heard his voice? I bet he could say some nasty things while he makes me forget my name',” you said mimicking the girls you had hear saying throughout the school on a normal basis.

“Oh, come on gongjunim. You know I wouldn’t have eyes for any of those girls. They love Agust D, I want someone who loves Yoongi,” he chuckled looking up to the sky only to feel a water droplet fall on his now,” hey why don’t we go into my house and you can have a drink with me.”

“Fine but let me just text Namjoon that I’m going to be out.”

“Mmm was he expecting you home?”

Shaking your head, no you two began to run up the rest of the stairs where there was a small building entry as rain began to pour over you. Quickly rushing into his living room as soon as he opened the front door, you both laughed at how soaked you had gotten in the short span of time and how both of you now looked like a mess. It wasn‘t the first time you two got caught in the rain but it had been a while so the feeling of running through it together brought back old memories of when you were both younger.

“How long has it been since we danced in the rain?” his voice chimed as he looked at the door and then back at you with a soft smile.

“Remember the dance from Trouble Maker I did for my audition?” You asked leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah, that was three years ago.”

“That was the last time I danced in the rain,” you mused looking down at the water spots on your shirt from running through the rain,” I have to dance it again with some guy from my performance class in two weeks.“

“Some guy? I heard that you got partnered up with Jungkook-“

“Please don’t remind me. Every girl is crazy about him in my year and we’re all two years older than him,” You groaned rolling your eyes before looking over at Yoongi,” Don’t you just love how the conservatory has high school and college students all in the same place.“

“You know they do it based on your level. And you only have one year left before you get to audition in front of all the companies and pray that you make it big, but until you get to join me on stage lets change into some dry clothing before you get sick in that outfit,” he chuckled placing a hand on the small of your back, leading you back to his bedroom.

“Shhh, what your brother doesn‘t know won’t kill him princess,” a smooth voice cooed into your ear as you giggled nodding.

His hands had been all over you as you two danced against each other and now he was leading you back to another room. It wasn‘t long before you got inside the room that your back was slammed against the wall, his lips on your neck, your hand in his hair. He was like a damn drug and you couldn’t seem to get enough.

“How the hell is it that you act like a child when I change in front of you, but I have never seen you bat an eye when those girls from your year flirt with you wearing practically nothing,” you smirk leaning against Yoomgi after downing your shot of soju.

You two had gone through three bottles of sake by now and you had gone from sitting across from Yoongi to almost sitting on his lap from how close you two were. Yoongi's arm was around your shoulder as he chuckles and shakes his head putting a finger your chin to make you look up at him.

“Damn you and that stupid smile,” he chuckled causing you pout as his smile widened at you.

“Y/N, you’re always dressing so cute to school, how am I supposed to see you as anything other than pure,” he teased poking the tip of your nose only making you frown.

“I’m not pure oppa... In fact, I can show you exactly how much I have changed since we were kids,” you whisper as you straddle his lap and moved his hands to your hips,” those dance classes are good for more than just dancing on stage.”

Biting his lip, Yoongi can’t help but check you out as you begin to move against him, grinding your hips onto him only causing his hands to begin to explore under the oversized shirt you had on.

“You’re my best friends' little sister... this is so wrong,” Yoongi hummed closing his eyes as you begin to kiss his neck, making him groan slightly as he felt your teeth graze the skin right below his ear and then pull on his earlobe.

“You’re not stopping me...” your voice cooed into his ear before a knock on the door interrupted your moment.

“Yoongi! Y/A-ah! It’s pouring out here! Let me in!”

“But that is...”

[trexy225]

TSS-Chapter 2: Our Hearts Belong to The Sea

Summary: I'm having too much fun writing sea shanties y'all

“So how many crew members-” Jo started to ask. “I like to call us all The Sirens or The Siren Crew or The Siren’s Crew… Honestly, any of those-” You rambled on.

“But if we’re being honest that’s all for formalities, you’re a part of the family now, Jo.” Alex gave the girl a pat on the shoulder.

“What were you asking?” You asked, turning around.

“Oh, I was just wondering… how many… family members are on this ship?” Jo asked.

“Oh! Time for introductions! Alright everyone, line up! Line up!” you clapped your hands and all thirty-two crew members, counting Kate and the fat black cat that took care of the pests on board lined up, and you started going down the line.

“This is Cookie, she’s the cook on this ship, if you find anything that can be somewhat edible, she’ll whip it up into a five-star dish!” you announced. (Did pirates use five stars? No, I don’t think so but shut up it’s ok).

Cookie gave Jo a firm shake and gave a warm smile, Jo smiled back.

Ok so now there’s going to be a huge info dump section, why did I create so many characters? Because they’re fun to make and I googled how many people pirate ships had and it said 15-200 so I thought 30 was good… Let me be, but yeah you can look at the character master list and just skip this chapter if you want, I will be VERY brief at introducing everyone and I will flesh out their characters more as the story progresses.

“And here we have Lilith ‘The She Devil’ Wilson, she’s in charge of anything that can sink a ship to the murky depths below.” 

“I also kill people!” She exclaimed proudly.

“...I kind of assumed so.” Jo pointed out, Lilith cackled as they pulled Jo into a hug, she looked over at you.

“I like this one! She has…” they searched for a word. “...fire!” she finally finished.

“I’m glad you think that Lilith.” you led Jo over to Rita, who pulled her into a hug.

“I’m Rita Hernandez, responsible for provisions and overall quality of life here, if you need to talk to anybody, my door is always open… This is my son, Carlos, and my adopted daughter, Pepa.” Rita gestured to the small boy who clutched her hand, and the girl next to her who was playing with a butterfly knife, she offered her hand out to Jo.

“How do ya do? The name’s Pint-Sized Pepa, how old are you?” she asked.

“Sixteen,” Jo answered.

“...Ok we can be friends,” Pepa concluded.

“I like your hair…” Carlos muttered into Rita's skirt, Jo laughed at her hair… it was a mess.

“Thank you, Carlos,” she told the little boy.

“This is our navigator, Gwen Stacy-” you continued.

“I’m the best navigator in the seven seas.” Gwen held out her hand proudly, Jo shook it.

“That’s a relief,” Jo replied, Gwen smiled at that.

“Here are the Tanaka sisters, Suki and Akira-” “We are SO happy to meet you! My sister and I are overjoyed to have a new member of the family!” Akira pulled Jo into a hug, Suki stayed silent, sharpening her Katana, she didn’t look happy to see Jo.

“Don’t worry, she’s always like that.” You reassured Jo. “And here we have Sunny Anne and Glade Hadwell.” “We are going to have so much fun together!” Sunny Anne exclaimed.

“The pirating life isn’t supposed to be fun, it’s dangerous.” Glade countered.

“Glade, honey can you please just let me have this one?” Sunny asked.

Glade sighed and gave a curt nod.

“Now this bunch came from a traveling circus, we managed to get them out of that horrid situation.” you gestured to Melody, Hattie, Beastie, and Petra. Who all waved.

“Here’s Scarlett-” you gestured to the fiery redhead, who gave a flirtatious wink.

“Sparrow, Agatha, Priya, Stormy, Dalia, Peggy, Xiran, Abuela, and you’ve already met Anya.” you introduced, Jo gave a small wave.

“And Lonnie, Mary Jane, and Felicia-”

“With Jeff.” Felicia gestured to the fat black cat she was cradling in her arms.

“Yes, and Jeff. And my right hand, Alexandra… And of course.” you made a grand gesture, Alex facepalmed.

“The one and only Siren Queen! Hoist the sails!” you ordered.

“They’re already hoisted, Captain.” Alex pointed out.

“Oh… yes I suppose they are-” “Who are the women on the sails?” Jo asked.

“They’re our fallen sisters… Not a day goes by where I do not hear their song, I make sure that they get their revenge, that I avenge them. Any siren that falls is honored each and every day.” you stare off into the night sky, a knot in your stomach, you hated losing them. If you could have taken their place, you would have. Luckily your reputation had gotten around, if you murder a siren, you will face the wrath of the siren queen… Now you haven’t had as many deaths… But the injuries were getting more and more severe. You couldn’t lose your crew, they were everything to you.

“How am I going to remember everyone?” Jo asked as the crew dispersed to finish the tasks. 

“You will, trust me on that.” Alex patted the girl on the back and handed her a mop. 

“...This isn’t the adventure I was expecting,” Jo admitted.

You grabbed a mop as well “I disagree, I see this ship… Well no actually it is quite boring, but we must do it, Melody, a song please?” You asked. Melody grinned as she took out her guitar.

“My lady awaits on the old Irish road, oh my lady she waits for me, I gave her a kiss and I bid her farewell because my heart belongs to the sea! I miss my fair lady every day and night, but the sea she calls to me! I wish I could go back and hold her close, but I’m afraid the sea won’t let me free! Oh that is the song that the old sailor sings as she swabs on the moonlit deck, she looked to me and told me ‘I can’t ever go back for my heart, oh it belongs to the sea!” 

“My heart belongs to the sea! I tell her time and time again, oh my heart it belongs to the sea!” Everyone sang along.

“One day I found myself on the old Irish road, my lady still waiting for me! I pulled her in close and I begged her to give her heart to the sea with me. My lady said yes and I shouted with glee, for now, I could have all three. Myself and my lady as well as the sea, it was simply just meant to be!”

“Because in the end…” everyone joined.

“Even if you refuse to believe!” Peggy and Carlos sang.

“Our hearts, they belong to the sea!” You all finished.

Josephine laughed as you all took out your blankets and gathered on the deck, Melody strummed a few strings on her guitar.

“But our families did say that it was not meant to be… That we could not give our hearts to the sea…” Melody sang softly.

“So I took my sea maidens hand and looked into her eyes, and we both dove into the sea.” she continued.

“We both dove into the sea…” she sang.

“Our hearts belong to the sea,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“You’re twenty-one now Y/N and you still refuse to marry, you are humiliating our family!” Your mother scolded, you crossed your arms, scowling.

“I do not want to marry Lord Johnathan, I do not love him! And he’s old and boring and he never listens to me!” you argued.

“We don’t marry for love my dear, this is the only way to ensure our position in the future, don’t you want to become a Lady?” 

“No, no I do not. I don’t want to be locked up in some mansion, forced to have children that I do not want while my husband treats me like dirt!” you snapped.

“...You are marrying Lord Johnathan and that is final, you are the only one out of your friends who have not married!” 

“Alexandra hasn’t-”

“Alexandra is getting married as well, to Lord Thomas.” your mother snapped, your mouth dropped.

“No… NO!” you stood up and started pacing.

“Do not pace, that’s unladylike.”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it, you fought off tears as you ran into your room. You had to do something… You looked out of your window, the ocean breeze blowing in your hair, you started to smile as a plan formed.

You were going to be free. And you weren’t going to let anyone get in your way. 

“My heart belongs to the sea,” you muttered in your sleep.